Polyan Pavel Biography

The memory of the poet Alexei Tsvetkov is dedicated to 1 and the Sun stood over us while I found friends ... Pavel Nerler in the year I entered Moscow University, entered where I dreamed - to the geophak. The winner of all kinds of Olympiads and correspondent Zakhara Zhagadkin and the ship Coca Anton Kambuzov, I did not even understand how a wonderful science I connected my life.

All our beautiful rough planet curls at my feet, and no Coriolis’s forces could break its world peace and global harmony. Not immediately, but it opened to me that the estate of the geographer is not the earth as such, not the globe and not space, but the “just“ all ”spatial aspect of everything on it-from permafrost to a person. And so that we, the surgery, newborn, neither honey, nor in fluff, it seemed to our land, and most importantly-"so that a person does not catch up!" Resolutely to any of the participants of this strange, for the sake of the district tick, the undertakings - neither we sent us here closer to the faculty, nor the hard workers with the foremen, and the least of all to ourselves - even could not occur to us that the labor impregnation imposed on us is a violation of our sacred rights.

It is extremely difficult to violate what is not, but our main right-to youth-no one attempted, we all were okay and tryn-grass. At the construction site, no one was hunching - neither the hard worker nor we. They did not chase at work - neither we nor they; And, as if understanding this, the work also did not chase us. It was as much as I wanted to be worn out, and already on the second day I brought some book with me, and by the end of the day I got so much that I could easily read at the “workplace”, that is, sitting on top of the “gun” with a solution.

This was most reminiscent of the third-party observer of the curbing of an unheard of Mustang: but have you ever seen a cowboy reading a book? Occasionally, but now, crossing the boulevard on a trolleybus or minibus, I always throw my head to the right and look where I once stuck out the fix of the “our” house and where our boarding house stood, surrounded by dusty greenery and empty checks.

Yakhontova, P. Nerlaler, A. Rugovsky, S. Photo from the archive of Bakhyt Kenzheev, however, were a little unhappy and we, in particular, of the personnel policy of the faculty, who sent so few girls to our brigade in Lilac. There were only two of them - and both Oli: Shchipitsyn and Dubrovin. The graceful skin of Shchipitsyn looked like a princess of Cinderella, and Dubrovina pulled on Freilin: she performed Pavoy and came to the construction site almost on studs - her dream seemed to put herself so that, even in a robe, to stay throughout the day on the hairpin on stilettos.

But it turned out that this team is immediately and forever. Even now, after so many years, we are still friends and rejoice at each other. Our foreman-the judicious and red-cheeked Sanya Pakhomov, having served in the fleet, did not go to oceanologists, but to geomorphologists, that is, stuck on the ground, whose wave folds, ugly, will still claim about study. For life, he taught me one important lesson, which clearly opposed the average-eioned trend: think, when you take up something, but if you have decided and took up, then work hard, do not, not Filon.

The groovy and artistic Sasha Vorozheykin, if he professed the triad “work hard, get out, do not Filon”, then in relation to the holidays. He had a strong recitative voice, and he was our main guitarist. The repertoire had a traditional one, but each almost a song was orange in an unexpected way: “What was - it was ...”, for example, he sang, as it were, with the mouth of a foreigner, unsteady in Russian stresses and diphthongs.

It was very funny. The reasonable Kolya Regent, the kindest soul, was drunk before others and loudly demanded more and more songs from Vorozheykin, and from me ditties I really knew them hundreds then. Kenzheev, V. Yakhontov, A. Photo from the archive of Bakhyt Kenzhev three of our nonresident-Trostinochka Lenya Zharov, fellow countryman Anatoly Karpov and Levsha, Korpysh Oleg Mikhalchenko, fellow countryman Dudaev on Tartu, and rounded Alik Baghdasaryan, fellow countryman of all his Armenian relatives from the Georgian Tetri-Tzkaro,-organized a kind Ironical fraction.

However, for the circus of future life, they prepared themselves not only with the need for self-worth, but also with the willingness to "come up with-how to work." Throwing off to the sewing machine, the miracle of the Podolsk masters, they began to be accumulated by one of the deficits of X - men's panties and T -shirts, not from black satin and white knitwear, but from everything that came across the shelves, mainly from a colorful seat - and the brighter the better!

On the flight, the “workshops” gave me a luxurious “deuce” from the poisonous blue almost satin with a gold fringe: a clear thing, only for solemn occasions. Having bestowed all friends, they entered the external market and instantly won it - at least in the scale of the hostel.Over time, their paths dispersed: Lenya and Oleg entered Tyumen, where the first one hit the writing and consulting of the Governor's Corps, and the second circleed, he kept-crawl around oil science and settled in some slurred business, from where he almost did not give a voice.

Alik, as a real Virmenin, temporarily repatriated to Yerevan, where he gained experience at some junction of geology with the economy and froze in a penal room the size of a compartment. One of his hacks was outstanding in its zero: at dawn on dawn, he scraped and drowned Lenin’s ass with shampoo with the shampoo on the main square of the city, sometimes, not every time, taking on pigeons on the number.

With such practical experience, it was no longer difficult to defend themselves on economic and cling to the capital. And it’s not a secret to anyone that the best Tetrom and Khachapuri in Moscow Tetritskarovskie Baghdasaryans today. Later, Tanya Kapralova, the countrywoman of Tsiolkovsky, was nailed to us from the hostel, so that under the new, from a needle, the name of Tanya, the regent went to power - to guarantee all the migrations of the country, which she even coped with, because it did not quite exclude the idea that people were migrants.

And here is our real princess and favorite: Lenochka Stezhenskaya - just from Zurbagan, a character from the prose of Alexander Green and songs of the novel Matveeva. Life "What a big wind! Never once the sailboat of her soul gave a leak, and the sweet expression of a blind smile turned out to be not filmed over the years. And finally, Kolya Side is just a man from another world and dough, an alien: older than us, on and more freely on everything in everything in him: a carrier -worker, a submariner, a polar explorer, an indefatigable smoker then - four packs a day, now there are “only” three.

In the world of painting and in the world of poetry - at home, Parsecks of all kinds of poems - by heart. He was an ideal reader of poetry: with the horizons and systems of views that do not pass through the hack through themselves, with a fine skeleton, which is finely tuned to a miracle that does not allow either falsehood or emptiness. It was he who explained to me the difference between Mandelstam and Kirsanov, whom, along with Mayakovsky and Aseev, I then idolized.

I still remember the lines from Aseev: “How will I become your poet, the tribe communism, if it is dyed with red color, and not red time? .. I sincerely accepted them all three-their staircase-span graphics, their masterful juggling with words and sounds, especially in rhyme-for the highest piloting of poetry. During just a few conversations, Kolya completely “turned me over”, simultaneously reconfiguring my ear to completely different ones than a ladder and consonances, criteria.

He achieved this very simply - after reading to me, I have several magic poems by Osip Emilich, and among them - “For the fact that I could not hold your hands ...”. Even in the first year, passing by the stands of the club part, I got a look at the discreet posters. The text, printed in the case in two, as I recall, the colors-blue and red, read that then the next meeting of the poetic studio of Moscow State University “Ray”, at which the poems of such and such and the meeting was held by a meeting of a certain Igor Volgin, would take place.

Important recognition: back in school, being in love with Shura Kneeller, then in Ira Ponomarev, I could not resist and fell into the sin of poetry. In the second case, however, there were no words: the parental dignity of the Cekov ideologist, apparently, easily shielded any intangible emanations - even to her daughter. It is not surprising that the memory of this pretty girl with luxurious resin braids is also some kind of obscene: from the depths it is not adored by the face, but her day-to-bearing gift is a brown Gadera Carapus from the Berlin coat of arms and a rearranged calendar made of stainless steel, where this is the number of things that are scrolling at the bottom.

My dad fell in love, he is now starting the day with this simple operation! Bakhyt Kenzheev. Photos from his archive of obscene traces of school composition, thank God, have not been preserved. But, remembering my condition well, I can confidently say that its nature is exactly the same as the eruption of magma in an overheated from excess of volcanic feelings of a weakness of the earth's crust.

Below, you see, he is hot, and he bursts at the top-the earth smokes, the water gurgles and evaporates, another slurry is about to rush and flow-and that look, some kind of Pompeysk will sweep away to the hell. Vesuvius and Krakatau as a variety of Hephastious graphomania! Meanwhile, the process has already fallen out of control and was no longer satisfied with the lyrical exclusive.

It turned out that the whole surrounding world is imprisoned for inspiration no worse than an unsuitable passion. And now another young man imagined himself to be a poet and went to a poem at the nearest mobilization point. They, in essence, were a university Lito "Ray". The scale of the phenomenon, apparently, was sufficient so that the out -of -the -way party noticed him and even authorized the legal existence of this, in principle of the unanventible process.

The room was quickly filled, and the consciousness that you are not the only such a psycho, I would not hide. I had to read in a circle. The Salags here were mixed with the elderly, but there was no grandfather. At some of the discussions, I still caught the fluids of anthonism, which had the form of contemptuous indulgence, but delimiting not grandfathers from young animals, but candidates for poets from veterans from graphomania.

And this was already wonderful, for it implied criteria, to catch and formulate which I still had to. The same romantic curly and burning gaze, the same childish roundness of the face and slightly ruddy cheeks, as if burned by eternal shame. Several times he brought to the studio of good poets of older both us and himself: I recall, for example, Levitan. Once or twice, they fought with the Levinsky "highway".

Igor Leonidovich Volgin “Ray” was a place where poetic bricks passed their first firing. Already traditional readers in a circle of each of those present one poem were touched both to the genre of events and to its heat: Igor Volgin spoke mainly, but spoke strictly, without false compassion and sparing. But personal analysis were especially gestured in the “ray”: I myself soon experienced all their nettles.

And then a certain triumvirate turned out to be the true holder of the Hamburg account: Khrovskovo, Kenzheev and Gandlevsky Tsvetkov was very rare then - he disappeared into Zaporozhye, like Tanya Poletaeva - in St. Petersburg. Immediately, as if in a circular one, I only heard their poems, I realized: for the sake of what you were going here, here are poets and now - poetry!

The poetic gift, poetic rightness and poetic tradition - for the first time I felt the current coming from direct contact with their carriers ... It is strange, but I have well remembered the one whom I, unlike Igor Leonidovich, appreciated the least - Evgeny Slavsov. I remember even her voice, inflated upwards after the boys sung by her chorus: voiced boyish voices were compared and, in my opinion, successfully with silver drills.

Her poems were not conjunctural, unless not taken into account the tastes and preferences of Igor Leonidovich himself: with something she impressed his aesthetic feeling, and he did not spare praise to her address. And the headman of the “beam” was Zhenya Bunimovich - in the world a teacher of mathematics, who even then knew how to saddle the alarm and camouflaged her under irony or a smile.

Here is a definition for expressing his face: a very serious smile.

These calmness and smile did not disappear even when Zhenya went to the Moscow Duma. Like mathematics, they were very useful to him in the cultural policy, which he took up later. This happened, sympathize, not in the perclovoy Athens, but in Baturinskaya Moscow, the stepmother of the Russian cities. Eurasian Moscow was always the internal rustican, predisposed to bad taste and eclecticism, and then Luzhkov with their turrets and ceremonies of monsters.

Piercing and defending to the best of strength worthy projects, as well as preventing or softening urban disgraces, Zhenya likened this or that trouble to solve the theorem and was very striving to ensure that it was not any more beautiful and civilized. I myself became convinced of this when fate brought me to Zhenya Evgeny Abramovich in trouble about the monument to Mandelstam: he proposed by the multi-income with a closed competition of projects and the gift of sculpture to the city was a classic theorem and a brilliant bureaucratic know-how!

In the Volginsky Ray retort, another form of our poetic context of the seventies was originated and crystallized - the Moscow Time group. There was no manifesto, instead of it - a community of poetic and worldview criteria, iconic names from contemporaries - Tarkovsky and Galich and the joy of mutual communication, both sober and not very. Of course, there were no "membership tickets." The composition was albeit variable, the solid core was quite visible: Krovsky, Poletaeva, Kazintsev, Gandlevsky, Kenzheev, Tsvetkov, Sergienko, Vanhanen, Nerler that I personally - “The Poet from the side” - learned from the Internet only now, the artist and archivist Misha Lukichev.

Alexander Alexandrovich Rugovsky, I would say to the leaders: the Syndics of the Moscow time were two Sasha - Kazazinites and the hassles, of which the first claimed formal attributes of leadership, taking the “assembly” and being unchanging as his wife, who performed semi -secretary functions.