We are Asians with slanted eyes. Lyrics

(An attempt at a modern reading)

Let’s agree right away, friends: we will not talk here about the literary merits of the last poem of the great Russian poet Alexander Blok “Scythians”, but from today we will try to just take a fleeting glance at this work, to understand its main message, ideas and goals. Perhaps this will be enough to warn the modern reader against the deeply erroneous, although so fashionable in lately, contextual reading of the poem - thoughtless (or malicious) tearing out of the text individual phrases and phrases convenient for any specific purpose.

As is known, “Scythians” was written by Blok shortly after October Revolution 1917, in the most difficult period for all of Russia - and especially for the Russian intelligentsia - a period when thinking people trying to understand the events taking place had to make their choice in complete darkness, in the impending horror and demonism of Bolshevism, in the hostile environment of the West, which was continuing the world war and with pleasure throwing firewood into the flaring fire of fratricidal civil war in our country. Just imagine what time it was! It was practically impossible to understand all that horror; God knows what was happening around, without any morals or commandments. The poet’s subtle soul tried to cope with this all-consuming darkness, but could not - the darkness and "lack of air"(six months before his death, Alexander Alexandrovich, speaking at an evening in memory of Pushkin, said that “lack of air” destroys poets) ultimately destroyed Blok’s psyche, led him to an overestimation of his worldview and complete disappointment, and soon to severe depression, ending in death.
Published at the end of February 1918, “Scythians” caused a mixed reaction among contemporaries. Many were confused by the journalistic challenge of the poem, its sharp civic sound, and patriotic pathos. Moreover, Blok’s reputation among his old fellow poets was damaged by the pro-Bolshevik poem “The Twelve” and especially the article “Intellectuals and Revolution”, after which he was even threatened with a “future boycott” (Z. Gippius and D. Merezhkovsky were categorically against Blok’s new position , F. Sologub, Vyach. Ivanov, A. Akhmatova, etc.). But that's not what we're talking about now. If we leave aside the revolutionary background, from today I personally see this poem as angry, daring, even harsh - just backhanded! - the answer to Russophobes of all stripes: “Oh, are you saying that we are Asians? So here you go, get it!” (" Are we barbarians?– Blok wrote in his diary on January 11, 1918, a couple of weeks before composing “Scythians.” – Okay. We will show you what barbarians are!") There is no need to literally understand phrases about slanted eyes And Asian faces, just as one should not exaggerate their allegory, - with the help of such expressive expressions, the poet only conveyed the high emotional intensity of this rebuke to the enemies of Russia, of whom there has always been - and remains to this day - a legion, “millions”:

Millions of you. We are darkness, and darkness, and darkness.
Try it and fight us!
Yes, we are Scythians! Yes, we are Asians
With slanted and greedy eyes!

(Remark between the lines. It is interesting to compare how A. Pushkin wrote about the same thing in his poem “To the Slanderers of Russia”:
You are formidable in words - try it in deeds!
Or an old hero, deceased on his bed,
Unable to screw in your Izmail bayonet?
Or is the word of the Russian Tsar already powerless?
Or is it new for us to argue with Europe?
Or is the Russian unaccustomed to victories?
Are there not enough of us? Or from Perm to Taurida,
From the Finnish cold rocks to the fiery Colchis,
From the shocked Kremlin
To the walls of motionless China,
Sparkling with steel bristles,
The Russian land will not rise?..)

The same goes for the line " We are like obedient slaves...”, which, splashing with saliva, is used by detractors of the Russian nation as the opinion of the great poet about his people. Here we see the same method of expression, as, for example, in the phrase “God, what a fool I am for believing you!”

For you - centuries, for us - a single hour.
We are like obedient slaves,
Holding a shield between two hostile races
Mongols and Europe!..

(Remark between the lines. Compare with Pushkin:
And you hate us...
Because they fell into the abyss
We are the idol weighing over the kingdoms
And redeemed with our blood
Europe freedom, honor and peace?..)

Reproaching western world in his usual Jesuitism (from Blok’s diary: “ Having disgraced himself, having lied so much,-no longer an Aryan... We understood your poison better than you!"; In this regard, it is also interesting to recall A. Pushkin’s phrase from the draft text of a letter to Benckendorf, written almost a hundred years ago: “Embittered Europe is currently attacking Russia not with weapons, but with daily, frenzied slander.”), the poet reminds us of the lessons of history, which, however, for some reason still do not come to fruition:

Centuries, centuries your old forge forged
And drowned out the thunder of the avalanche,
And failure was a wild tale for you
Both Lisbon and Messina!

You have been looking to the East for hundreds of years,
Hoarding and melting our pearls,
And you, mockingly, only counted the time,
When to point the guns in the mouth!

Now the time has come. Trouble beats with wings,
And every day the grievances multiply,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Paestums, perhaps!

And - finally! - a prophetic message from the beginning of the blood-drenched twentieth century to us, living in the twenty-first century that started so alarmingly, a warning from the Russian poet-visionary to the same Europe:

Oh old world! Until you die
While you're languishing in sweet flour,
Stop, wise as Oedipus,
Before the Sphinx with an ancient riddle!

Russia – Sphinx. Rejoicing and mourning,
And dripping with black blood,
She looks, looks, looks at you
Both with hatred and with love!..

Russia – Sphinx. It contains everything, and everything fits in it. Russia is more than just a country, a state, one-sixth of the land, it is an ancient mystery unsolved for many, a guardian of Life with a special mission among other nations (from Blok’s diary: “ We will fulfill our historical mission!"), who knows how to love like no one else, who knows, remembers and understands everything.

Yes, to love as our blood loves,
None of you have been in love for a long time!
Have you forgotten that there is love in the world,
Which both burns and destroys!

We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions,
We understand everything - and the sharp Gallic meaning,
And the gloomy German genius...

We remember everything - the Parisian streets are hell,
And Venetian coolness,
The distant aroma of lemon groves,
And the smoky masses of Cologne...

But, alas, we have to speak differently with those “who are coming to us with weapons.” (" If you don’t at least use the “democratic world” to wash away the shame of your military patriotism,” we read further in the poet’s diary, “ our cruel answer, a terrible answer, will be the only one worthy of a person...»)

We love flesh - both its taste and color,
And the stuffy, mortal smell of flesh...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches?
In our heavy, tender paws?

We are used to grabbing by the reins
Zealous playing horses,
Break horses' heavy rumps,
And pacify the obstinate slaves...

(Remark between the lines. Compare with Pushkin:
So send it to us, Vitiia,
His embittered sons:
There is a place for them in the fields of Russia,
Among the coffins alien to them.)

This is also hyperbole, exaggeration, a reversal: do you dream of presenting us to the world as rude, cruel savages, a kind of modern Huns? Be careful what you wish for, otherwise you will get exactly what you want!
Still better...

...Come to us! From the horrors of war
Come into peaceful embraces!
Before it's too late - the old sword is in its sheath,
Comrades! We will become brothers!

And if some people still see in us only “Asian faces”, then well, then it will be so... Of course, here the poet takes everything to the extreme, thereby calling on our opponents who cannot stop in time... to prudence : Do you really want to see Russia like this - treacherous, cowardly, cowardly hiding in the event of a global danger “in the wilds and forests”? (" We looked at you through the eyes of the Aryans while you had a face- Blok writes further in his diary, not restraining his ardor with senseless political correctness in such cases. – And we will look at your face with our sideways, sly, quick glance; we will throw ourselves together as Asians, and the East will pour on you. Your skins will be used for Chinese tambourines...»)

And if not, we have nothing to lose,
And treachery is available to us!
For centuries, centuries you will be cursed
Sick late offspring!

We are wide through the wilds and forests
Looks good in front of Europe
Let's make way! We'll get back to you
With your Asian face!

Go everyone, go to the Urals!
We are clearing the battlefield
Steel machines where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!

But we ourselves are no longer your shield,
From now on we will not enter into battle ourselves,
We'll see how the mortal battle rages on,
With your narrow eyes.

We will not move when the ferocious Hun
He will rummage through the pockets of corpses,
Burn the cities and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!...

But no, no, Russia has never been and will never be like that! She has a different purpose, sent down, entrusted only to her from the heights. " Russia is life!“So listen and hear us, finally! - we, the “Asian Scythians,” tell you again and again; in fact, we are exactly the same Europeans, your white brothers, who are still on the same side with you and have the same high humanistic principles and values:

For the last time, come to your senses, old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time at the bright fraternal feast
The barbaric lyre is calling!

In conclusion, I turn to you again, my friends. Read this poem again, only very carefully, tying each of its lines to our time, and you will see how modern and relevant it is right now, how many prophetic thoughts there are in it, the main one of which is about the inexhaustible and indestructible power in us, in Russians, which many do not understand and therefore are afraid of, but with the help of which we - no matter what! – we will defeat all our enemies and any adversity along our historical path. On the difficult but great path of my great people!

Full text of the poem (without epigraph)

Scythians

Millions of you. We are darkness, and darkness, and darkness.
Try it and fight us!
Yes, we are Scythians! Yes, we are Asians
With slanted and greedy eyes!

For you - centuries, for us - a single hour.
We are like obedient slaves,
Holding a shield between two hostile races
Mongols and Europe!

Centuries, centuries your old forge forged
And drowned out the thunder of the avalanche,
And failure was a wild tale for you
Both Lisbon and Messina!

You have been looking to the East for hundreds of years,
Hoarding and melting our pearls,
And you, mockingly, only counted the time,
When to point the guns out!

Now the time has come. Trouble strikes with wings,
And every day the grievances multiply,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Paestums, perhaps!

Oh old world! Until you die
While you're languishing in sweet flour,
Stop, wise as Oedipus,
Before the Sphinx with an ancient riddle!

Russia – Sphinx. Rejoicing and mourning,
And drenched in black blood,
She looks, looks, looks at you
Both with hatred and with love!..

Yes, to love as our blood loves,
None of you have been in love for a long time!
Have you forgotten that there is love in the world,
Which both burns and destroys!

We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions,
We understand everything - and the sharp Gallic meaning,
And the gloomy German genius...

We remember everything - the Parisian streets are hell,
And Venetian coolness,
The distant aroma of lemon groves,
And the smoky masses of Cologne...

We love flesh - both its taste and color,
And the stuffy, mortal smell of flesh...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches?
In our heavy, tender paws?

We are used to grabbing by the reins
Zealous playing horses,
Break horses' heavy rumps,
And pacify the obstinate slaves...

Come to us! From the horrors of war
Come into peaceful embraces!
Before it's too late - the old sword is in its sheath,
Comrades! We will become brothers!

And if not, we have nothing to lose,
And treachery is available to us!
For centuries, centuries you will be cursed
Sick late offspring!

We are wide through the wilds and forests
Looks good in front of Europe
Let's make way! We'll get back to you
With your Asian face!

Go everyone, go to the Urals!
We are clearing the battlefield
Steel machines where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!

But we ourselves are no longer your shield,
From now on we will not enter into battle ourselves,
We'll see how the mortal battle rages on,
With your narrow eyes.

We will not move when the ferocious Hun
He will rummage through the pockets of corpses,
Burn the cities and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!..

IN last time– come to your senses, old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time at the bright fraternal feast
The barbaric lyre is calling!

Scythians
Pan-Mongolism! Although the name is wild,
But it pleases my ears.
Vladimir Soloviev
And every day the grievances multiply,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Paestums, perhaps!
O old world! Until you die
While you're languishing in sweet flour,
Stop, wise as Oedipus,
Before the Sphinx with an ancient riddle!
And dripping with black blood,
She looks, looks, looks at you
Both with hatred and with love!..
Yes, to love as our blood loves,
None of you have been in love for a long time!
Have you forgotten that there is love in the world,
Which both burns and destroys!
We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions,
We understand everything - and the sharp Gallic meaning,
And the gloomy German genius...
We remember everything - the Parisian streets are hell,
And Venetian coolness,
The distant aroma of lemon groves,
And Cologne is a smoky mass...
We love flesh - both its taste and color,
And the stuffy, mortal smell of flesh...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches?
In our heavy, tender paws?
We are used to grabbing by the reins
Zealous playing horses,
Breaking horses' heavy rumps
And pacify the obstinate slaves...
Come to us! From the horrors of war
Come into peaceful embraces!
Before it's too late - the old sword is in its sheath,
Comrades! We will become brothers!
And if not, we have nothing to lose,
And treachery is available to us!
Centuries, centuries - you will be cursed
Sick late offspring!
We are wide through the wilds and forests
Looks good in front of Europe
Let's make way! We'll come back to you
With your Asian face!
Go everyone, go to the Urals!
We are clearing the battlefield
Steel machines where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!
But we ourselves are no longer your shield,
From now on we will not enter into battle ourselves,
We'll see how the mortal battle rages on,
With your narrow eyes.
We will not move when the ferocious Hun
He will rummage through the pockets of corpses,
Burn the cities and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!..
For the last time - come to your senses, old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time at the bright fraternal feast
The barbaric lyre is calling!

“We will fulfill our historical mission”

The “result” of the Brest negotiations (that is, no result, according to “New Life”, which is indignant at the Bolsheviks). None - good, sir. But the shame of 3½ years (“war”, “patriotism”) must be washed away. Poke, poke at the map, German trash, vile bourgeois. Artachya, England and France. We will fulfill our historical mission. If you don’t at least use the “democratic world” to wash away the shame of your military patriotism, if you destroy our revolution, then you are no longer Aryans. And we will open the gates to the East wide. We looked at you through the eyes of the Aryans while you had a face. And we will look at your face with our sideways, sly, quick glance; we will throw ourselves together as Asians, and the East will pour on you. Your skins will be used for Chinese tambourines. One who has disgraced himself and lied like that is no longer an Aryan. Are we barbarians? Okay. We will show you what barbarians are. And our cruel answer, the terrible answer, will be the only one worthy of man (...) Europe (its theme) is art and death. Russia is life. Blok's diary entry from January 11, 1918

Links

Wikipedia: Blok, Alexander Alexandrovich
Wikisource:
Wikipedia:

On March 7, 1960, four were picked up in the Pacific Ocean Soviet soldiers a, who drifted on a landing barge without water or food for 49 days. The little boat was torn from its moorings by a typhoon and carried into the ocean. Four guys bravely fought against the elements, hunger, and thirst. They did not lose their human dignity and won. Here are the names of the heroes: Anatoly Kryuchkovsky, 21 years old, Philip Poplavsky, 20 years old, Ivan Fedotov, 20 years old, Askhat Ziganshin, 21 years old.

On January 17, 1960, a hurricane tore the Soviet barge T-36 from its moorings and carried it hundreds of miles from the coast. The situation was complicated by the fact that the guys were not sailors - they served in the engineering and construction troops, that is, in the “construction battalion”. And a cargo ship was sent to the barge to unload, which was supposed to approach the pier. But suddenly a hurricane struck, and Soviet soldiers found themselves in an almost hopeless situation. The barge carried into the ocean had no fuel and no means of communication with the shore., there was a leak in the hold, and there was food: a loaf of bread, two cans of stew, a can of fat and a few spoons of cereal. There were also two buckets of potatoes, which were scattered throughout the engine room during the storm, causing them to become saturated with fuel oil. The tank also overturned drinking water, which was partially mixed with the sea. There was also a potbelly stove, matches and several packs of Belomor cigarettes on the ship. In addition, the seaworthiness of the barge was such that, due to safety precautions, even in calm weather it had no right to sail more than 300 meters from the shore.
problem fresh water the guys decided this: they took her from the engine cooling system, although rusty, but relatively usable. Also collected rainwater. For food, they cooked a stew - a little stew, a couple of potatoes that smelled like fuel, a very small amount of cereal. On such a diet, it was necessary not only to survive ourselves, but also to fight for the survivability of the barge: chipping ice from the sides to prevent it from capsizing, pumping out the water that had collected in the hold.

When the food is completely gone, Sergeant Ziganshin remembered the school teacher’s story about sailors who were in disaster and suffering from hunger. Those sailors cooked and ate leather things. The sergeant's belt was leather. They boiled it, crumbled it into noodles, then used a strap from a broken and non-functional walkie-talkie, then they began to eat boots, they tore off and ate the skin from an accordion that was on board...

Soon, auditory hallucinations were added to the pangs of hunger and thirst. Ivan Fedotov began to suffer from attacks of fear. His comrades supported him as best they could and calmed him down.

What's amazing is that and throughout the entire period of drifting, not a single quarrel or conflict occurred in the foursome. Even when there was practically no strength left, not a single one tried to take food or water from a comrade in order to survive himself. We just agreed: the last one who remains alive, before he dies, will leave on the barge a record of how the T-36 crew died...

On March 2, they first saw a ship passing in the distance, but it seems they themselves did not believe that it was not a mirage in front of them. On March 6, a new ship appeared on the horizon, but the desperate signals for help sent by the soldiers were not noticed on it.

On March 7, 1960, an air group from the USS Kearsarge discovered the T-36 barge about a thousand miles northwest of Midway Island. A half-submerged barge, which should not move more than 300 meters from the coast, traveled more than a thousand miles along Pacific Ocean, covering half the distance from the Kuril Islands to Hawaii.

In the first minutes, the Americans did not understand: what kind of miracle was in front of them and what kind of people were sailing on it?

But the sailors from the aircraft carrier experienced even greater bewilderment when Sergeant Ziganshin, delivered from the barge by helicopter, said: everything is fine with us, we need fuel and food, and we will sail home ourselves. In reality, of course, the soldiers could no longer swim anywhere. As doctors later said, the four had very little time to live: death from exhaustion could have occurred in the coming hours. And by that time the T-36 had only one boot and three matches left.

American doctors marveled not only at the resilience of the Soviet soldiers, but also at their amazing self-discipline: when the crew of the aircraft carrier began to offer them food, they ate just a little and stopped. If they had eaten more, they would have died immediately, as many died who survived a long famine.

On board the aircraft carrier, when it became clear that they had been saved, the soldiers finally gave up strength - Ziganshin asked for a razor, but fainted near the washbasin. The sailors of the Kearsarge had to shave him and his comrades.
When the soldiers had slept off, they began to be tormented by a completely different kind of fear - there was a cold war, and it was not anyone who helped them, but “ likely enemy" In addition, a Soviet barge fell into the hands of the Americans. The captain of the Kearsarge, by the way, could not understand why the soldiers were so zealously demanding that he load this rusty trough aboard the aircraft carrier? To reassure them, he informed them that another ship would tow the barge to the port. In fact, the Americans sank the T-36 - not out of a desire to harm the USSR, but because the half-submerged barge posed a threat to shipping.

When in the USSR they learned about the rescue of the four heroes, the head of state Nikita Khrushchev sent them a telegram of welcome.

The first press conference of the heroes took place on the aircraft carrier, where about fifty journalists were transported by helicopter. It had to be finished ahead of time: Askhat Ziganshin’s nose began to bleed.

Later, the guys gave a lot of press conferences, and almost everywhere they were asked the same question: how do the boots taste? "The skin is very bitter, with unpleasant smell. Was there any sense of taste back then? I wanted only one thing: to deceive my stomach. But you can’t just eat the skin: it’s too tough. So we cut off a small piece and set it on fire. When the tarpaulin burned, it turned into something similar to charcoal and became soft. We spread this “delicacy” with grease to make it easier to swallow. Several of these “sandwiches” made up our daily diet,” Anatoly Kryuchkovsky later recalled.

By the time the aircraft carrier arrived in San Francisco, the heroes of the unique voyage, which lasted about 50 days, had already gotten a little stronger. America greeted them enthusiastically - the mayor of San Francisco presented them with the “golden key” to the city.

Experts admired: young Soviet guys in a critical situation did not lose their human appearance, did not become brutal, did not enter into conflicts, did not slide into cannibalism, as happened with many of those who found themselves in similar circumstances.

And ordinary residents of the United States, looking at the photo, were surprised: are these enemies? The sweetest guys, a little shy, which only adds to their charm. In general, during their stay in the USA, four soldiers did more for the image of the USSR than all the diplomats.

Upon their return to the USSR, the heroes received a reception at top level- a rally was organized in their honor, the soldiers were personally received by Nikita Khrushchev and Defense Minister Rodion Malinovsky. All four were awarded the Order of the Red Star, a film was made about their voyage, and several books were written. Philip Poplavsky, Anatoly Kryuchkovsky and Askhat Ziganshin, on the recommendation of the command, entered the Leningrad Naval Secondary Technical School, which they graduated in 1964. Ivan Fedotov, a guy from the banks of the Amur, returned home and worked as a riverman all his life. He passed away in 2000. Philip Poplavsky, who settled near Leningrad, after graduating from college, worked on large sea vessels and went on voyages abroad. He passed away in 2001. Anatoly Kryuchkovsky lives in Kyiv, worked for many years as deputy chief mechanic at the Kiev Leninskaya Kuznitsa plant. After graduating from college, Askhat Ziganshin entered the emergency rescue squad as a mechanic in the city of Lomonosov near Leningrad, got married, and raised two beautiful daughters. After retiring, he settled in St. Petersburg.

This article will present an analysis of Blok's poem "Scythians", as well as his summary. It is noteworthy that this last piece poet. He wrote nothing more until 1921 (the year of his death).

History of creation

In record short terms Blok wrote his poem. “Scythians” (it is better to start the analysis with the history of creation) appeared in just two days - January 29 and 30. The year 1918 was marked by a significant creative upswing for the poet. At the beginning of the year he created “The Twelve”, then the article “Intellectuals and Revolution”, and at the end - the poem we are considering.

The reason that prompted Blok to write the work was purely political. According to the poet's diary entries, he closely followed the peace negotiations held in Brest-Litovsk Soviet power with the Germans. Their unexpected breakdown caused a storm of emotions and indignation in the writer: “... vile bourgeois, German trash... We looked at you with Aryan eyes while you had a face. And we will look at your face with our sly, quick glance; we will throw ourselves together as Asians, and the East will pour on you... Are we barbarians? Okay." This short passage contains the key to understanding the meaning of the poem.

It is also necessary to mention that in 1917 a revolution occurred and the Bolsheviks came to power.

Blok ("Scythians") gives a special place to Russia in his work. An analysis of the poem suggests that he imagined his homeland as a certain border that separated the West and the East, at the same time defending the former from the attacks of the latter and performing the functions of an ambassador and establishing relations. That is why Russia deserves to be treated with respect and honor, but enmity with it can lead to disaster.

In his work, Blok addresses a huge number of interlocutors: “Millions of you.” That is, to the entire European world, he called on it to think about the role and value of Russia.

Main part and denouement

Analysis of the poem “Scythians” by Alexander Blok makes it possible to evaluate the work as a warning to the enemies of our country. The poet asks you to listen to yourself and come to your senses, he threatens - Russia will find how to respond to the aggressor. However, the conflict can end horribly: “...for centuries you will be cursed by your sick later offspring.”

Blok is confident that Russia is capable of living in peace with all European countries: “We will become brothers.” And if a world conflict arises, the renewed homeland will simply not take part in it, since it has other interests.

The poem ends with a patriotic call: “... come to your senses, old world.” The poet calls on Europe for reconciliation and unification, otherwise disaster cannot be avoided. The anti-war intonations are heard most clearly in the verse.

Blok, “Scythians”: analysis

The work can be called a revolutionary-patriotic ode. It consists of 12 quatrains, that is, 76 lines written in iambic heterometers. Literary scholars put this poem on a par with such great works as “To the Slanderers of Russia” (Pushkin) and “The Last Housewarming” (Lermontov).

The work is a direct reflection of the historical situation in Russia in those years. It was a very scary and tense time - a new state, born in the fire of the October Revolution, was just beginning to take shape. There is no doubt that all this was reflected in Blok’s poem.

Theme and idea

The peace-loving Blok remains true to himself. “Scythians” (analysis confirms this) call for harmony and peace. In almost every stanza, the poet says that after all the horrors suffered, it’s time to sit down at the negotiating table and join forces.

Russia has already suffered enough over the previous few years, and now it has no desire to get involved in new war with the Old World. In addition, the young country has its own plans for the future, and there is no need for it to interfere in other people’s squabbles, which is why it will watch everything from the side with “slanted eyes.”

An analysis of Blok’s poem “Scythians” suggests that anti-war themes come to the fore. The poet identifies Russia with the Scythians and, despite calls for peace, makes it clear that she has enough strength to repel any enemy who dares to set foot on her lands: “... we have nothing to lose, and treachery is available to us.” The writer has his own opinion regarding identity in Russia; he assigns it one of the most fateful roles for the world.

For many centuries, our homeland, according to the poet, served as a “shield” separating Asia and Europe and preventing their direct clashes. On the one hand, Europe thirsted for the riches of Asian countries, their secrets and mysteries. On the other hand, the Mongol horde could break into the lands of the Old World and capture them. Only thanks to Russia, which took the blow, not a single side was harmed. Our homeland appears as a peacemaker in this situation. Block emphasizes high sacred meaning existence of Russia.

The poem is imbued with patriotism. Despite the fact that the poet calls for peace, he does not diminish the strength of his country. On the contrary, he emphasizes that if necessary, Russia will be able to respond. But why resurrect the horrors of war, which are already fresh in memory. A bad peace, from Blok’s point of view, is better than a good battle.

The middle of the poem is noteworthy. Here the author paints his homeland in a new way - it appears to the reader as a “wise Sphinx”, who, despite the fact that he himself bleeds “black blood”, is ready to help or give advice if necessary. The work ends with a direct humanistic appeal, filled with peace and patriotism.

“Scythians” (Block): analysis by stanzas

Let's look at a few quatrains:

In the first, the poet addresses European countries. He calls the Russian people Scythians, hinting at attitudes towards Russia as a barbarian country.
In the second just we're talking about about how our homeland served as a shield for many centuries.
In the third, the poet looks back at Europe's prosperous and carefree past.
In the fifth, the theme of conquest appears - the greedy gaze with which Old World looked to the East.
The seventh quatrain describes modernity: “trouble” is approaching, with every day “multiple resentments.” But this will not lead to anything good.
In the eighth, the image of Russia the Sphinx appears for the first time, looking around “with both hatred and love.”

From the poem it becomes clear how much Alexander Blok worried about the fate of his country and the whole world. “Scythians” (analysis presented in this article) are a kind of cry from the soul. It is painful for the poet to look at the horror that surrounds him. But he understands that if nothing changes, it will be much worse.

Contemporary assessment

An analysis of Blok’s poem “Scythians” showed how topical this work was for its time. However, the reaction of his contemporaries to him was ambiguous. Many did not like the challenge sounded in the poem, the sharp patriotic and civic pathos.

The writer himself spoke very coldly about “Scythians”; he did not like how they turned out. Blok even called them “boring.”

In 1918, Alexander Blok published the poem "Scythians"
Block poem Scythians, text
Millions of you. We are darkness, and darkness, and darkness.
Try it and fight us!
Yes, we are Scythians! Yes, we are Asians
With slanted and greedy eyes!
For you - centuries, for us - a single hour.
We are like obedient slaves,
Holding a shield between two hostile races
Mongols and Europe!
Centuries, centuries your old forge forged
And drowned out thunder, avalanches,
And failure was a wild tale for you
Both Lisbon and Messina!

You have been looking to the East for hundreds of years
Hoarding and melting our pearls,
And you, mockingly, only counted the time,
When to point the guns out!
Now the time has come. Trouble beats with wings,
And every day the grievances multiply,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Paestums, perhaps!
Oh old world! Until you die
While you're languishing in sweet flour,
Stop, wise as Oedipus,
Before the Sphinx with an ancient riddle!
Russia - Sphinx. Rejoicing and mourning,
And dripping with black blood,
She looks, looks, looks at you
Both with hatred and with love!...
Yes, to love as our blood loves,
None of you have been in love for a long time!
Have you forgotten that there is love in the world,
Which both burns and destroys!
We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions,
We understand everything - and the sharp Gallic meaning,
And the gloomy German genius...
We remember everything - the Parisian streets are hell,
And Venetian coolness,
The distant aroma of lemon groves,
And Cologne is a smoky mass...

We love flesh - both its taste and color,
And the stuffy, mortal smell of flesh...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches?
In our heavy, tender paws?
We are used to grabbing by the reins
Zealous playing horses,
Break horses' heavy rumps,
And pacify the obstinate slaves...
Come to us! From the horrors of war
Come into peaceful embraces!
Before it's too late - the old sword is in its sheath,
Comrades! We will become brothers!
And if not, we have nothing to lose,
And treachery is available to us!
For centuries, centuries you will be cursed
Sick late offspring!
We are wide through the wilds and forests
Looks good in front of Europe
Let's make way! We'll come back to you
With your Asian face!
Go everyone, go to the Urals!
We are clearing the battlefield
Steel machines where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!
But we ourselves are no longer your shield,
From now on we will not enter into battle ourselves,
We'll see how the mortal battle rages on,
With your narrow eyes.
We will not move when the ferocious Hun
He will rummage through the pockets of corpses,
Burn the cities and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!...
For the last time - come to your senses, old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time at the bright fraternal feast
The barbaric lyre is calling!
On January 30, 2018, the poet wrote these lines under the influence of the news that the Germans had entered the country. He considered Russia a bridge between East and West, and calls on the West to come to its senses and not take advantage of the moment when the country, torn apart by contradictions after the October Revolution, was weak. Russia will still rise from the ashes, and the decrepit European civilization may regret stabbing it in the back. The bloc not only threatens the West, it is afraid of the unbridled and unpredictable reaction of the “Scythians” - no one knows how the war will turn out for everyone if there is one. This war will be terrible! The poet calls for peace and warns that without Russia other evil forces will break free and then in Europe
...fierce Hun
He will rummage through the pockets of corpses,
Burn the cities and drive the herd to the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!...
So, the verse was written 100 years ago. And it seems to me that it was almost yesterday? 100 years is a turn in the spiral of history...