Love Nikonov Biography

Nikonov’s love “The heavenly light of the earth's garden, but anyone who knows how to hear me will correct me - just a poetic star, modestly hiding on the edge of the sky. But the sky has no edge!

And therefore, this “starry sky” can shine to everyone and everyone who will raise their eyes to the poetic sky. Her best verses seem to be not written, but born along with the Long Volga Plain, the old countryside, the dome of the White rural church- poems easily become “light, air and wind”, as if returning, spoken to their original sources. Behind them is the Russian tradition - both poetic and worldview.

They are from that bright and better in peasant space, which is expressed by the old word “Lad”, from that folk inquisition, that sudden impulse - to raise his eyes to the sky, which turned its stellar fabric over the old village - which gave rise to Yesenin and the great type of Russian village eccentric, and Russian fraternity - strong just its seeming social weakness.

During the Russian reverse capitalism, almost all the real poets began to seem almost holy fools to the winners, then Lyokovy Nikonova burst out bitter lines: “In this appearance, I burn as a poor holy fool like a candle of wax.” But her soul did not doubt the choice of her path, and, suddenly feeling the eternal power in itself, added: to be a stream of living fire.

I will not do too much. And don't be afraid of me. However, the love of Nikonov-this poetic leaflet, breaking away from the native rural branch, was not a squeeze-shepherd, was not even simple and in character. This is rather the type of human-nasty man, the Russian Self Made Man, which forms the basis of culture, exists in its deep streams, which is thrown up both dirt and foams and poems of Lyorov Nikonova-a person at the same time mentally clean, but highly intellectual, as if bypassing the Yesenin tradition, lead the reader to Tyutchev and Zabolotsky, to David Samoilov.

Of the contemporaries, she approached the Olympic, Yuri Kuznetsov - but not from the side of the symbol, but from the side of beyond the sensation of the mystical secret of the world and the deepness of feelings. And it doesn’t matter whether they were closely familiar during their lifetime. Her female soft, sincere and pure response remained in poetry - the response of love - to the male challenge, abandoned by Kuznetsov to the whole female world.

This is that quiet, as if humble, love, about which Nikonov herself said this: raging thoughts of threats, and the passions of the inescapable seas, and the rebellious thunderstorms are no stronger than my humility. And when this invisible power of love runs out - the trace gives it a bitter, but saving, capable of satisfying thirst, a sip of water: in a burned steppe - the eternal smell of wormwood if the cloud is to shed young here!

In the burned steppe, the label on the clay watered me with warm bitter water. With the feeling of the last kiss, not asking anything from his fate again, he then dried up, naked empty, like a heart that spent love. The subtle depth of the poetic world of Lyubov Nikonova emphasized in his long -standing review Robert wine, who quoted, in particular, and this is a poem. Yes, love permeates all the verses of Nikonova.

She succeeded in the wise acceptance of the world, to which a sincere faith in the bright, although aggravated by the introduced darkness, the plan of the creator himself leads. The child is able to rejoice at the flower and rain, to be surprised to see a snow pattern or snowflake, crying for a flying bird. And to love and perceive your mother as the whole world, as the whole earth.

So the love of Nikonov. It is only necessary to rejoice that she managed to preserve in her soul this childish and at the same time a wise-hearted view of the world. I live under a hundred -year wind. She rustles gently and deaf. My happiness is a field flower, and grass is a state of mind. Her poems dedicated to mothers should generally need to be placed in all school ackhelm.

As an alternative to the now fashionable critical and humorous views on parents, who, by the way, will say, must also be preserved. There was an evening on the outskirts of the country. Rooks flew towards the moon. And the mother followed the old eyes behind these flying roots