Streltsov mikhail mikhailovich. Mikhail Streltsov. Poems Mikhail Streltsov: biography

Eight-year-old Bob was two years older. And by dog \u200b\u200bstandards, I could be considered his grandson. Therefore, he played, slightly fooling around, with half the strength: he grabbed the end of the stick with his tenacious jaw - and pulled, crouching on his hind legs, pretending that he was determined to pull it out. Small even teeth and concave hooks of fangs - snow-white, as if brushing with paste! In the benevolent draining of the pupils, an almost human viper suddenly slipped, right before it suddenly opened its mouth. Why I, pulling from the other end, had to flop into the grass. And then, with a triumphant yap, the dog turned out to be near, perched on its shoulders its paws with black springs of pads, and began to lick its forehead in a friendly manner. It was tickling and slobbering. Nevertheless, I got used to catching a malicious moment in the pupils, and tried to release the stick first. And then Bob squatted in bewilderment, pretended to be defeated, playfully falling on his side, and I began to scratch his withers and behind his ears. The dog slowly, awkwardly even rolled over onto its back, substituting a warm muscular tummy, so that it could be scratched there too.

Probably, at first he was called Bobik, but, having grown up, made the former owners arouse respect for themselves and change the name to a respectable one. In reality: if he wanted, he would have taken that stick from me in one fell swoop. In addition to the scanty bulldog jaw, he had other signs of a boxer: strong shoulders, elastic and smooth torso, confidently standing on his paws, as if they had grown not under the body, but along it. Ears upright and voluminous deep eyes, in which there was no thoroughbred arrogance. They were light, somewhere even green, as if they had just been washed in the summer rain. A large mongrel, one of whose ancestors was probably a collie, could be seen in Bob not only in a dark red color, but also in a neck with a king's hump, and, of course, in a very straight-looking penny of nosopy. And already - of course - the character of the dog has set itself not in a noble don, but in her outbred father or mother. The dog really resembled a bob: elastic, sloping, oblong, hard and nimble, could jump out of the booth shell with such agility that a stranger who dared to be within reach would hardly have time to jump.

And although the dog carried his service on the chain regularly, I would not say that he was downright a child prodigy, rather the opposite - friendly, like most village fools. Some of the dogs stopped talking when you were just approaching the gate, recognizing your scent from behind the fence and then greeted with an air of dignified guards at the prince's porch. Bob, on the other hand, was straining in the collar - even when you were already in the yard, falling within sight. And only a few steps later, the dog recognized you, began to fuss guiltily, shifting its paws, and the tail rod rattled and wiggled along inconceivable trajectories.

In fact, for such breeds, like their unlucky offspring, it is customary to dock their tails at birth. On our city outskirts, no one bothered himself with such nonsense: what happened, it happened - if only he guarded the house, and did not spoil anywhere. In addition, the only veterinary institution was, like the devil threw it: if you don't know, you won't find it. That is why Bob looked like an awkward little lion cub, because the tip of his naked red twig ended with a small hair brush. Moreover, my grandmother got it as an adult, with such a tail.

Previously, the woman lived on the other side of the city, my grandfather died two years ago, and the hut was completely lopsided and decayed. We and the Ryzhikovs - two families - settled in the suburban village of Shoferskoye, the name of which spoke for itself. Nearby there is an expanded clay gravel plant, a motor depot of city garbage trucks and a clay section of a brick factory. And yet the houses here are newer, built no more than twenty years ago. So the daughters looked after the mother's house near them, transported my grandmother, no matter how she resisted, and the neighbors, for some reason, gave them a dog, taking a younger dog.

I suppose, not because I turned out to be her eleventh and youngest grandson, but because of her nasty nature, Baba Natasha did not in the least resemble those stereotyped grandmothers who over-eat them with pies and cow's milk. The woman never sat down at the table, reacting to your appearance as to annoying worries: as if a fly had flown into the house or a mosquito. The house had two small rooms, which could only be entered through a kitchen with a Finnish stove. The table is always clean: no spoons, no crumbs. In the living room there is a table under a lace tablecloth with an empty vase and a framed photograph of his grandfather. The windows are constantly closed with curtains, and on the dressers are pots of aloe.

In the far left corner, a lamp burned under an icon depicting a woman with a baby. Laconic, the grandmother sometimes belched loudly hiccups, while baptizing her mouth, saying: "the Lord has sinned" in a patter. Always in felt boots, belted with a woolen scarf around the waist, in a worn-out yellow-green sweater with buttons with a pork penny in size, small, overweight, constantly wandered from room to room, limping on her right leg, and abruptly ordered: don't touch it, don't go there ... In her eternal brick-colored shawl and men's tight glasses with elastic bands, with heavily fallen corners of her lips, she resembled an untidy caretaker in a village museum, where they only enter to wait out the heat or rain. The woman did not have a TV on principle, and even gave Lenka Ryzhikova the rest of her life with her grandfather for the wedding. She was a little deaf, which is why the radio in the house crackled loudly, and did not stop: from anthem to anthem.

That is why, when I came to my granny, I did not stay in the house for a long time: I greeted, indicating my presence, asked about my state of health, as my mother asked; standing for several minutes, because they were not offered to sit down, listened to her grumble about this or that relative - he got drunk, and this one lives with just anyone. And since of her five children, three daughters survived, and two were nearby, the eldest, Khvidora, and her corresponding surname, reddish and coarse - as if slovenly worn - sons, Tolka and Sasha, got the most of all. I must say that they gave a reason. The lean cauldron Sasha, who had not yet graduated from school, had already pasted over the doors in his room with labels from the ports he had drunk, and Tolya, who was preparing for the army, preferred vodka, after which he would beat his pregnant wife with pleasure or chased his stepfather around the garden with an ax.

Intercepting granny on a pause, he said that I would go to the yard to play with Bob, and for an hour and a half she forgot about my presence. Then, as if recollecting herself, she would go out onto the porch and begin to command me. I did not understand some of the troubles. It is known why we need to bring firewood and water to the bathhouse, we ourselves came to our grandmother’s bathhouse, because we were rebuilding our own. It is clear why it was necessary to climb into a cellar smelling of mold - granny wanted salty, she especially preferred sauerkraut with radish. But why was it necessary to rearrange the inventory in the shed from place to place? Granny herself did not take care of the garden, we dug for her, and planted, and reaped the harvest; I didn’t keep cattle, except for chickens, and I was sure I hadn’t come to the barn since the moment of moving. But how many pitchforks, hoes, shovels were in place, if anything was missing, she absolutely needed to know.

While I was busy and inclined to think that it was time to shed towards my family, where I could shake something, swing in a hammock and wait for my mother from work, Bob occasionally whimpered, fingering his front paws; he began to gnaw a bone with an eye in my direction, wondering why I had packed into a flock for useless activities instead of playing with him ...

The last long preschool summer at Shoferskoye dragged on endlessly: I staggered from morning to evening wherever I wanted, left to myself, lounging around and only later realized that it was the most happiness that could be - cozy, warm and dimensionless. But it was boring. The TV quickly got bored, the pictures in the books did not change like cartoons; my parents left for work in the morning and did not take me with them, no matter how they asked. Once my father, tired of the buzzards, took it all the same, but it was even more boring there. The excavator just dug in the clay and stank of fuel oil. It was dirty, dreary, desolate, and even the locals - cut - lured dogs did not play with me, but lay dejectedly in the shade, yawning and sleepily gnawing burdocks from their wool. There were not many children on our street, and almost all of them disappeared somewhere for the summer. Except for the fidgety Paulina in the very first house on the highway to the city. But my parents let me go to show off to me a collection of candy wrappers from sweets for a short time without supervision, and they also kept geese. And when they went for a walk, I hurriedly retreated, because the main goose did not love me. When he saw, he began to flap his wings on his sides, bend his neck, as if sneaking up and intending to grab his heel. That is why, apart from Bob, I had no friends that summer. And he, in addition to his grandmother, carrying out a mess of tasteless cereals and bread in a bowl, did not have any acquaintances. It is not surprising that he enjoyed my visits, and, abandoning his dog business - gnawing a bone, barking and sleeping in a booth - enthusiastically followed all my childish notions.

Misha, you started your creative activity in Myski, Kemerovo region, then Kemerovo, then Krasnoyarsk ... Tell us a little about your accomplishments: what was written, what was published? How can you compare literary life, literary get-together, if you like, Kemerovo and Krasnoyarsk: where is the personality brighter, where is more life, etc.? Do you regret that you moved to Krasnoyarsk?

Myski is one of the most beautiful places in Siberia. Mountain Shoria. A small provincial town with a leisurely lifestyle. There was no one to show my first attempts in prose, except for the teacher of the Russian language and literature Alexandra Petrovna Tur (now she is no longer there). In the best sense of the word, she is a fan of modern Russian literature, she reacted with lightning speed to all novelties, including previously forbidden works that flared up during perestroika. It was she who "drove" me into the city library to meet with local poets, forcing me to read some of her own there. By that time, I had already written five poems, absolutely not feeling like a poet. As a rule, I wrote satire for the school wall newspaper, and then something more splashed out, not for the newspaper, caustic, like the time in which I had to grow up. From the 80s, probably, from the situation in the country, when authorities were crumbling, the seemingly unshakable was challenged, I, apparently, contracted doubt in categorical statements, in persons, in the opinion of the majority.
That meeting in the library became the starting point, the poets were immediately accepted into their community, and for a couple of years I visited the Rodniki literary studio in Myskovo. In 1988 and 89, the first publications took place in the city newspaper "Path to Victory" (now - "Option"). Even through the Komsomol, he managed to be sent to Kemerovo to attend classes at the regional literary studio "Pritomye", which he attended until 2000. It was in Kemerovo that I then spent my student years, tried to settle down, started a family, stuffed bumps from all sides, including literary ones. In 1990, the last Kuzbass seminar took place, and by the way, since Soviet times, such seminars have not been held there. By that time, I had written several science fiction and social stories, and for some reason I reworked the latter into plays. He loved Vampilov, Chekhov and Ostrovsky. I am such an eighteen-year-old impudent man with a beard with texts about first love in the spirit of "Little Faith" and "My name is Arlecchino" appeared on the "morning of the Streletskaya execution" in Novokuznetsk. The fact that I was defeated is understandable, but it is nice that I had a chance to meet leading Kuzbass writers. With many of whom we were friends and are still friends.
Until 1997, I published mainly in Kuzbass newspapers, dreaming of getting into the almanac "Lights of Kuzbass", which then came out with a great creak, almost a year. They published both poetry and a story. By the way, the prose of those student years is still going with a bang, and is published from time to time.
The nineties in Kemerovo for me are "Pritomye" with Sergei Donbai, Yulia Lavryashina, Sergei Samoilenko; workshop "AZ" of Alexander Ibragimov; “My voice”, where I even worked for a year as an assistant to the head, Iosif Kuralov. In 1999, I created my own literary studio at the Polytechnic University. By that time, my first book of poems was published, the first book of prose was in the printing house, I was listed as a candidate for the Writers' Union of Kuzbass. The book never came out. Not grown together for the money.
Compared to Krasnoyarsk, Kemerovo is a poor and unpromising city, it was not for nothing that when he left, Evgeny Grishkovets threw us on the platform of the railway station: “Run away from here! Out of this grayness! " And then and now I disagree with him. Krasnoyarsk is only now slowly beginning to remind me of the densely nomadic literary get-together of those Kemerovo years. Naive and pure, interspersed with drunkenness, brawls, kitchen talk and everything - "for literature." In the premises of the Writers' Union, both then and now, despite the fact that they are now the Central House of Writers, there is some kind of fuss, relations are being sorted out, swearing, hugging, drinking. I remember how we held chess tournaments and drank and swore at them. Sculptors and artists go there, where a visiting Irkutsk poet can live and drink for weeks at someone else's expense. This inimitable atmosphere, which is not in Krasnoyarsk.
This is exactly how, sometimes spontaneously walking, information led poets to publications in collective collections, to speeches in educational institutions, in libraries, to buffets and presentations, to mutual friendship or hatred. The annual "Spring in the Volga Region", "Fedorov Readings" are a powerful legalized booze and an opportunity to present oneself to readers and the literary community. Nowadays, Kuzbass poets and writers also travel to Srostki every year, striking everyone with the amount of their publishing products. We do not publish anything jointly and we don’t go to Srostki, but they are fighting in Kemerovo for the right to get there. In Kemerovo, everyone who is a creator of himself is in plain sight, and the scale of his personality from this remains more vividly in consciousness, and sometimes, alas, only in memory.
We have something secretly going on somewhere, often pretentious with a touch of elitism and unintelligible in essence; or intensely enthusiastic, but unpromising due to the mismatch with elitism. And the "King of Poets" in this case is the exception, not the rule.
The final Kemerovo episode with my participation. In 1999, I persuaded Sergei Donbai to watch the story "Balcony", he presented it to the editorial board of "Lights of Kuzbass", which unexpectedly aroused a sharply increased interest in my person. The story turned out to be scandalous, they treated it ambiguously and tore their throats, proving each other that they were right. By the way, in Kemerovo it is generally customary to discuss the novelties of colleagues in regular communication. Another "fi" to Krasnoyarsk. The story was published, from which I went to the All-Siberian seminar in Tomsk in 2000, I got into the master class of Leonid Borodin. Rated up to second place in the ranking, but criticized. The revised version was discussed a year later in Krasnoyarsk in the master class of Mikhail Kuraev and Alexander Astrakhantsev. And again the second place in the rating. The first is usually given to prose with local lore overtones. The story was then published in "DiN", was mentioned in the magazine "Moscow", entered the long-list of Boris Sokolov's prize and in 2006 was again published in the Petrozavodsk "North". It was she who was then lying with a book in the printing house, and has not yet been born a book.
The reason for moving to Krasnoyarsk, apparently, lies in the hopelessness of Kemerovo in everyday life, there I had to "live" in three jobs in order to somehow feed myself with a family of four. And in the general atmosphere, the effect of the clothes from which it grew has gradually developed, and it has been pressing for a long time. For some time I lived in Novosibirsk, often visited Tomsk, Moscow, Volgograd. And I fell in love with Krasnoyarsk almost immediately. I like the city because here the quintessence of life's inconveniences is less felt. This can be seen in the faces, in the actions of people, in their manner of communication. I have more friends here than anywhere else. I have been living here for 7 years, one might say, I have settled, I know and love the history of the regional center, many cities of the region. I am happy to conduct walking tours for visiting friends and colleagues. In Krasnoyarsk, I published two more books of poetry, was a participant in the I Forum of Young Writers of Russia, was admitted to the Union of Russian Writers, became a co-founder and then a member of the board of the KROO "Writers of Siberia", joined the literary fund and was recently elected to the board of its Krasnoyarsk branch ... In order to somehow systematize my actions in recent years, I made a computer presentation about myself and sometimes I turn to it to refresh my memory of some events and dates. If a governor's grant for cultural workers is announced next year, I think the extracts from it will be useful for paperwork.
I counted up here and became depressed. It turns out that in my entire literary life I have 25 publications in magazines and collective collections. And he cheered up, because there could be ten times more of them. Whether in Moscow or Siberia. The point is that I don’t pay for my publications in principle. And to all novice poets and writers dreaming of royalties and the romanticism of the poet's fate, I want to say right away: don't roll your lip. In Krasnoyarsk, as, indeed, in most other large cities in Siberia, there is no civilized book publishing business. For fifteen years now, the author has not been paid for an open soul and words are beautiful, but he pays printing houses for newspaper paper and government ink. Naturally, I publish my books at my own expense - there is nowhere to go when the desire to leave landmarks comes, but I will never publish in one of the magazines or collections for a fee. The problem here is this: anyone can publish for money now, which means, in most cases, the lack of quality of literary work. On the other hand, an author cannot exist without a reader, he needs publications. And you have to pay, since there is no alternative.

Over the past year and a half, Siberian literature has suffered a number of significant losses: these are Roman Solntsev, Alexander Kazantsev, Alitet Nemtushkin ... What has changed since their departure, what else will change? How do you see the current literary map of Siberia: perhaps new names, new "masters"? How do you see the perspective of Siberian literary magazines, Krasnoyarsk magazines, Den and Night magazine in particular? Do we need such a magazine now? Will he be able to maintain at least some level of quality? What could be a new unifying project for all writers? Who can become the new "pusher" for all Krasnoyarsk literary affairs, and is one needed?

Some of the following may not be to someone's liking, but I think I have the right to say it. The right is based on the last letters to me from Roman Solntsev and Alexander Kazantsev. The letters arrived by e-mail at the end of January, almost at the same time. Do you know what's scary? Delete entries from the address book and from the telephone directory, accidentally discovering them, some time after the funeral. As if you bury them again.
We became friends with Kazantsev in 2000 in Tomsk, or rather, as a "master" he noted me, wrote that he regretted that he could not publish "Balcon", but in 2002 he published my story in "Siberian Athens". We met with him in Krasnoyarsk in 2006 at the Astafiev readings and renewed our friendship, corresponded. In the last letter he sent me new poems, and the last one about death. But the postscript made me happy, "Let's wait, Mishka!" - wrote.
With Roman Kharisovich, we either quarreled or made peace. Recently, he has been sensitive to my criticism of the work of our writers' organization, taking everything at his own expense. Our last correspondence, which began after the celebration of the 60th anniversary of the writers' organization, is about this. I am glad that he was able to forgive my "arrogance", realizing that this is not out of envy, not out of ambition, but for the sake of maintaining the life of the writers' organization as such. His last words to me were: “Well done, Mikhail! Hold on! Together we will fight bureaucrats and scoundrels! "
Unfortunately, I didn't know much about Alitet Nemtushkin, but I managed to love him. I remember how Roman Solntsev sent me a message asking for help with the funeral. We met at the House of Arts, where Alitet's relatives, a representative of the funeral commission, were waiting for us, they wanted us to help in some way. To which Roman suggested, they say, we can only throw in a wreath from our writers' organization, we have nothing else. Since there were no other writers in the room besides us, they took what was out of our pockets. I gave the existing 300 or 400 rubles, Roman took a thousand out of his wallet, saying that he had just received his pension. For this amount, they immediately ordered a wreath, it was small in comparison with the others. And once again I felt ashamed that I was poor, that we, writers, were so poor ...
The loss of the standard-bearers, if not fully realized, then clearly may soon become a failure of the literary life of Krasnoyarsk and Tomsk. There are those who are reluctant to raise the banners, but hardly anyone will carry them as beautifully and independently as Roman Kharisovich and Alexander Innokentyevich.
Nevertheless, I can list two paragraphs of names that we lost in Siberia, and literature is alive. Apparently also because outside of its territory, the scale and activity of the individual is not seen in full clarity. There are enough authorities everywhere. Outside the Krasnoyarsk Territory, for example, nothing is heard about Astafiev. In Kemerovo - the cult of Fedorov, in Irkutsk - quite alive Rasputin and Yevtushenko, in Novosibirsk - Prashkevich, etc.
Rather, the departure of the standard-bearers symbolizes a transitional period towards the emergence of a new literary stage, with new faces more adapted to the dramatically changed time. Five more years will pass, and the people of the seventies will become the head of Siberian literature, who will be the legislators of all areas of activity of professional creative associations. And they will come for a very long time, the new "market" generation will be powerless in attempts to oust those who happened to live and survive in two eras: socialism and wild capitalism.
Undoubtedly, in Krasnoyarsk there has been a tendency for the emergence of new periodicals literary publications, there will be even more of them. I hope that the quality of the texts in them will also improve. It just depends on us, the members of the trade unions. Not to ignore, but to help. As for "Day and Night": with the attitude that is applied to it both by the administrative authorities and by the editorial board itself, without Roman Kharisovich it will not last even three years. In order for the magazine to live, one must first of all acknowledge this. The beginning of such recognition sounded at the round table of the Krasnoyarsk book fair in November this year. Let's be bold to admit that we are not pulling. And then the second stage: to notify everyone about it: the media, administrations throughout the hierarchy up to the presidential one. All Dumas, including the state. At the same time, offering a way out - to include the editorial board of "DiN" in the organizational structure of the agency for culture of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. By all the rules: staffing, reporting, accountant, stable funding. At the same time, emphasizing the importance of this truly unique and elite magazine, which all other Siberians are equal to, which Muscovites envy, which should become a real monument to Roman Solntsev and those things that he personified that are leaving our morality.
As for the idea of \u200b\u200ba unifying project, let's face reality. It is impossible to unite the writers, each has its own priorities, developed on the basis of the time in which he was formed and lived, on the basis of the literary material accompanying this time. And no matter how hard we try, it is impossible to force a writer to take care of at least himself; during the creative process, he is in another reality, divorced from us. There is no god among us, everyone is a god, in a creative basis. Nobody is immune to physical grooming. It is sad that there is a risk of losing the professional organization. I think that the main idea of \u200b\u200bthe next years should be the desire to attract talented, able-bodied young people to the organization. But for this, oh and oh, how much needs to be done. At least - to raise the prestige of the writers' organization, at least by the way it knows how to take care of its own members.

How do you assess the state of affairs in the writers' unions: what awaits them, is it possible to unite the organizations? With the passing of Solntsev, who can become the leader, at least unofficial, of the Krasnoyarsk branch of the PSA? Who do you see as the Chairman of the Krasnoyarsk branch of the PSA and how important, in your opinion, is this position?

I compress the previous statement to a statement of fact - the average age of the members of the writers' organization is frightening and threatens the complete disappearance of such organizations in the Krasnoyarsk Territory.
The disengagement of unions took place on a political basis, in the nineties everything was divided into communists and democrats, friends and foes. Now this issue is losing its relevance, the oligarchs are uniting in the face of danger. However, to unite unions, there is little own or individual initiative; an incentive from above is needed. I can again demonstrate Kuzbass as an example. There were two organizations there, and within the framework of one - the Writers' Union of Russia. Each of the organizations tried to publish its own magazine at least one issue per year, each had a small income from the lease of premises divided during the "divorce", each pulled from the budget for its own needs. Once the Governor Tuleyev got tired of this, he went into the issue a little, gathered all the writers and offered to unite, promising in this case to renovate the premises, to fund one magazine on a stable basis (Ogni Kuzbassa is now published 6 times a year, pays a fee and publishes supplements - books of young authors), to the journal - to create staffing rates. Now I want to breathe in Kemerovo. That is, what I proposed in relation to "Day and Night" is not my own whim, but the adaptation of the available options for solving the problem on our land. And the residents of Kemerovo, having divided the staffing units around the magazine equally, are quite happy with the way the situation has turned out. Teamed up as cute. Moreover, no one prevents them from expressing their own position, and in relation to each other, in particular.
However, in our case, when both organizations consistently receive a figurine from the budget, without claiming more, and the funding priorities of the regional administration are aimed at targeted projects, you can still contrive and push through the financing of the project of the United Writers' Organization of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. Be the resource itself and the initiator. The main thing is to have the word "project". Sign papers by giggling and rubbing pens. Moreover, the initiative should be pushed into the local Duma, through the same "United Russia", with which one of the organizations has a contractual relationship. Legal squiggles sometimes work flawlessly. Is it okay for me to be so frank? Let everyone think that I have leaked all the ideas, while I hold on to the main ones for now.
As long as the Chairman of the Krasnoyarsk branch of the PSA will be a person concerned about solving the problems of his own natural physical survival, there is no need to reap active actions from him. And the vacated position still needs to be earned. In the best case, the Chairman should be on the staff of the House of Arts or its director. Ideally, a successful royalty-free writer. In the future, we will have a Chairman - a successful publisher. Of course, such a position is necessary, since both the image of the organization and its internal structure depend on the personality of the Chairman. And vice versa. So far, the PSA Writers of Siberia, as a branch of the PSA, apart from the legal consolidation of its status, the organization is not provided with anything: no mission, no action program, no symbols, no bright projects. Apart from the general words in the Charter, which was conscientiously compiled from the existing ones by a small group, to which I also had the honor to belong at that time, there is nothing directing and prompting to action.

How actively do you think the Krasnoyarsk authorities support the writers and help them? Is everything being done by various administrations in this direction, what else could be done? Is there any sense in all sorts of "grants" that, as I heard, still exist, can a talented author be published at the expense of a "grant" from the administration? What ideas, projects could you put forward yourself?

About ideas and projects, sorry, intellectual property. I can only list briefly what we are missing: stable funding for the Russian magazine Day and Night; stable financing of the regional journal, the same "Yenisei" or the creation of a new one. Funding must necessarily be accompanied by distribution to the libraries of the region and the organization of access to publications for everyone who wants to receive or purchase it. There is a lack of systematically active performances in front of audiences, a literary agency, a bureau for the promotion of artistic creativity. We also need a publishing house, the priority of which will be the publication and distribution of copies of Krasnoyarsk (or Siberian) authors. What has been done by administrations for this? Episodic assistance from Pyotr Ivanovich Pimashkov and even more episodic assistance from cultural agencies to the Day and Night magazine. By the way, I would like to thank the mayor right away, since the journal's funding is not included in its activities, just voluntary help. What else has been done? The murder of the Yenisei magazine and the Krasnoyarsk book publishing house as Krasnoyarsk. On the occasion of the 55th anniversary of the writers' organization, some were presented with vases, and on the 60th - certificates of honor and medals. I do not consider the release of the jubilee collection a merit, it should be natural, like breathing. An amazingly cynical case - the refusal to Astafyev in an increase to his pension and a banquet dedicated to his first birthday without him, at which an amount was eaten and drunk in an amount hundreds of times greater than the amount of the desired increase. On principle, I did not go to the banquet. On a positive note, the assistance to one author from Krasnoyarsk to travel to the forum of young writers of Russia this year should be noted. For the first time (or even the second time?) In 7 years. Hurray comrades!
The grants announced at the 60th anniversary, as an aid to writers, have actually begun to play a positive role. Two books of writers of our organization managed to be published with the active work of Alexander Ivanovich Astrakhantsev, although more was submitted. The only thing that I do not understand is why only publishers (entirely commercial) can apply for a grant, and not a writers' organization, which, if successful, is free to choose a publishing house? Do the writers have any wrong bank details? As a member of the board, I would announce a tender for the right to publish a book by Anton Nechaev using a grant. Among local printers and media outlets, Nechaev's prestige as an author and as a writing organization would skyrocket. In the estimate, I would definitely include the royalties and editorial fees. Well, the poet would choose the editor himself. If I had edited it badly, I would not have invited him next time. You look, and in 10 years you would not have to blush for the texts, which under the existing conditions could potentially be published at the expense of budget money. Well, the Procrustean bed of the subject of grants immediately became the talk of the town. That is, with my texts and ideas, as a writer, nothing shines here. It is also strange that the grants do not consider the support of literary periodicals, literary club associations. I don’t know, but I’ll guess for sure now - if there are writers on the commission, then no more than one, right?
Thus, if the grant policy of the administration is not flexible and hospitable, a talented author will never publish a book with its help. Honored only.
Once again about Kemerovo, right there is the Saratov region, right there and Kazakhstan, right there, etc. The Governor (President) passed a bill for a monthly stipend for all (designated) members of the Writers' Union. That's what I understand - the support of the administration!

Tell us about the King of Poets competition: did you go to the edge as planned, what changes will be in the structure, regulations, etc. How about financing this project?

It is funny to find in the creative biography of a poet the words that he is a participant in the “king of poets.” From the official point of view, this event does not seem to exist. The "King of Poets" is a pure gamble that has arisen on the verge of interdepartmental, interlibrary and interliterary disunity. Officially, this is the poetry festival of the Regional Universal Scientific Library, it is for the festival that the cultural agency allocates funds, and not for some kind of "king of poets". It is pleasant that the event was to the liking of colleagues in the library and literary workshops, penetrated into the modern Krasnoyarsk literary history, it is referred to on various library sites from different parts of Russia. We are again playing with legal squiggles, and I think, in the end, the words “festival” will go away from the official budget, and the “King of Poets” will automatically be repeated.
Arrogantly, we call the event a regional poetry competition, and in this we are partially right. It is impossible to cover the entire region, but more than a hundred manuscripts annually come not only from the region, but also from different parts of the state. I will not talk in detail about the project itself, those who wish can familiarize themselves with the Regulations and materials about it on the website http://library.sibstu.kts.ru/alib07_2_1.php. I will say that competition is still a game and should not be taken seriously. The festival is the same! A feast of poetry, not an election!
On the other hand, I pinned great hopes on the "king ...", some of which were justified. At the beginning of the interview, I spoke about the Krasnoyarsk littusovka and I am proud that it was thanks to the "king ..." that it got better. Krasnoyarsk 2002-2003 is a separate literary association, poorly in contact with each other. Having called representatives from each of them to the organizing committee of the competition, I not only found friends, but also introduced the leaders of literary associations to each other on equal partnership relations. That, in my opinion, led in the future to an active exchange of information, to "visiting", to what was previously called "exchange of experience." I also hoped to reconcile the libraries, which, alas, did not work out.
The main difference between the "King of Poets" and other literary meetings or presentations is not only in the form of its holding, but also in the fact that the winners get a real reward based on the results. The most precious thing that can be given to a poet. Own book of poetry and not at their own expense. These are the lines I hold firmly. There will be no publication following the results of the competition, there will be no competition itself. In 2004, I had to win a grant, master and report. It took 2 years from writing the draft to the last reporting document, and I got the impression that I went to the army, so many unexpected pitfalls emerged. And I am grateful to the Regional Library and the Agency for Culture for removing some of the trouble from me in 2006. And there is encouraging information that in 2008 they will also bear the expenses. Well, in order to put everything in its place: for organizing, conducting, editing and publishing books to the winners, I do not receive a single ruble. And already begins to want.
Either to avoid the temptations of resting on their laurels, or to move the project further, in 2008 the "king ..." will, as usual, face controversial scandalous changes. First of all, The King of Poets 2008 is already funny after The King of Poets 2006. Therefore, there will be "The King of Poets: Revenge". The organizing committee will practically rest next year. The list of participants will be formed automatically from those poets who have already been included in the rating thirty of both events, but did not become winners. If the financing of the competition is approximately the same as I expect, the results will not be published in five books, but a common plump collection of verses of the winners and participants of all three competitions will be released, as well as the best works from all the manuscripts previously submitted to the competition. And thus, after completing the six-year cycle, I will leave the usurped position of the leader. During the event itself, there will be something similar to a competition to fill a vacant position. Although I already have 2-3 receivers in mind.
However, this does not mean at all that I will remain on the sidelines. Publishing and organizing committee tasks remain with me in the future. Well, I really want to watch the event from the audience at least once!
I also had an idea to see the "king ..." not only in Krasnoyarsk, but also in other cities of the region. It is necessary to gather courage and openly enter into a dialogue with the regional authorities on this matter, the principles of delineating the powers of certain governing bodies have been thought out by me. It remains to be seen whether these bodies themselves agree to this. Well, the cities of the region, of course. So far, the Regional Universal Scientific Library is thoughtfully in favor. Well, there is also hope to create a TV project on the basis of the accumulated methodological material. Moreover, I already had a similar experience in Kemerovo. People from the series switched, honestly. Everything rests on time. If I don't get paid anywhere, I somehow still have to earn money for a roof over my head and a sandwich with tea. And the main work takes the lion's share of the forces.

You have been running the Alleya literary association for a long time. Under your leadership, the poets of this association became famous in the city (and not only), you are probably the most active participants in various poetry events ... How did you manage to “light up” the guys? How do you generally assess their level, the level of young poetry in Krasnoyarsk? Who would you name among the best young poets of Siberia?

Indeed, Alley has recently celebrated its 6th anniversary. I also have the "Yenisei Islands" at the KUNB reading center, we are 3 years old. If Alley is mainly young guys, Ostrova is middle-aged and even elderly people. They are united by the initial path to literature. Accordingly, I have different approaches to leadership. As I said, first of all, you need to be friends: borrow money from each other, drink alcohol together, talk, do not spare your time for this. Leadership in formal and informal communication, your own authority, caring for your own - one of the components of success. Others: enthusiasm and pedagogical training. Always be ahead in everything. Let's say, they celebrated the fancy-dress New Year, to win in the eyes of active inventors, they donated hair, dyed blonde. A universal New Year's costume turned out.
If "Alley" is a reckless integration of talents who cannot and do not want to form their texts as it should be, then the solid and prolific "Islands" require, first of all, authoritarianism. I work with manuscripts individually, at meetings and classes I rarely manage to give someone personal attention, so there we try to determine the strategy of creativity, its focus on literary quality and moral priorities.
I do not understand literary associations, which are closed on themselves. Imagine, people sit for years and praise each other - complete nonsense. The success of "Alley" can be explained precisely by the constant desire to go out to others, to meet new things. Despite the fact that in terms of its status this is a club of a purely one university, and the university gives preference to its students, Alleya has an unofficial image of urban literary associations, where the way is available to anyone. However, the overall level of creativity leaves a lot to be desired when compared to other territories. However, I smugly declare that in comparison with other literary associations of the Krasnoyarsk Territory, "Alley" is the most talented, and "Ostrov" is the most published.
It is a pity that Pavel Zhurkin has left for Bratsk, who in recent years has shone brightly with sparkling satire. Konstantin Chiganov works fruitfully in prose. Among the poets I would like to mention Rustam Karapetyan, Anna Cherkashina, Valentina Gurkova, Daria Slizkikh. But the problem is no longer to find and educate talents, they must be constantly stimulated, printed, published. I am not always able to cover everything alone, and even more so not by means.
The situation is complicated by the fact that since I myself do not see the point of printing for money, I do not recommend it to others either. You have to offer something of your own.

You regularly publish books and not only your own ... You, I heard, are called a "literary producer." What is being prepared for publication now? Are there any discoveries in this regard? In general, in what directions do you work: maybe with what cities, publishing houses, authors?

I still don’t look for a producer. Now, if I received 50 thousand, then every month I would release a book to young people, because sometimes it just itches to thank them for their efforts on themselves, for their efficiency, multiplied by the touch of God’s finger. The only thing that I can afford is sometimes to add one of my own to the publication, if a little is not enough. The main "producer" work consists in editing and compositional arrangement of manuscripts. Now I have about ten young writers practically ready for publication. Prose has also accumulated. The beginning of the book series "Living Siberian Literature" of eight books was formed on the home computer. The authors are young and organized writers. In principle, it is really possible to launch a project in terms of raising funds, the problem is that the project lives in time, a financial return is needed. It turned out that in addition to the civilized publishing business, distribution is tight in Krasnoyarsk, the monopolized market is convenient for stores, they somehow do not dream of taking risks and getting involved with local literature. Attempts to reach out to the main book partners of wholesalers, i.e., publishers in large metropolitan areas, have not yet led to positive results. We are rapidly trying to impose plots, principles of writing, focused on somewhere and once identified average reader. It is not known what marketers decided that the reader is a kind of grubby housewife. It is unlikely that any of my friends and pupils are inclined to become a literary black man, this is somehow not a Siberian trait of a writer.
In addition to the two five-books on the basis of the "King of Poets" over the past three years, I can call my successes - a perfectly published collection of students, employees and graduates of SibSTU, another example that our universities are trying to imitate. He released the autobiography of his mother, who will soon be 76, her memories of a war childhood in the rear are captivating with details and mood. Finally, Igor Potekhin caught fire with the publication of his book, but as usually happens to him, he did not finish the job a bit. The book turned out to be funny, extraordinary, but poorly corrected.
I must say that most of the publications that have passed through me are the very first books or publications of authors, this is the same as a photograph in a passport, according to which you will be compared with subsequent work. However, I am not some kind uncle, and not everyone I go to meet. At the very least, I need to make sure that the author is adequate and disposed not to publish "imperishable", but to painstaking work aimed at improving, to hone the literary craft.
Sometimes they bring and send works that are wonderful in spirit, in theory, according to the target audience. However, so illiterately written! Here, as they said before, the time of literary processing comes. She is also a study. And if the author is ready, do not regret any time. This is exactly how this year, it is difficult, but seriously, the books by Andrey Teslenko "Kohai" and Lola Belovskaya "Amalia: crossroads of secrets" were published. The last author, by the way, is from Kuzbass, the distance complicated the work. However, I hope that next year we will release a sequel with her.

Misha, what have you got besides literature? As far as I understand, you are a fairly successful person: you wrote a dissertation (defended it?), Seemed to be going to marry ... Who are you friends with, what are your hobbies? Share, if it's not a secret.

Indeed, in Krasnoyarsk the roads with the woman with whom we lived for 14 years parted ways. She also achieved success in her own affairs and very quickly fell into the clutches of the "golden calf", choosing her main demeanor - acquisitiveness. Found out fundamental differences in views, and the marriage broke up. Now I am a "Sunday dad" to my children. Nevertheless, life does not stand still, a chosen one has appeared, with whom I would have dreamed of living for many years. While this is mutual. But the formalization of our relationship must mature. And in everyday life, including. If anyone does not know, I have never had my own home. All life in student dormitories, which means - the regime: not to invite someone to visit once again, not to come home at night without an explanation.
A person with a salary of a librarian can hardly be called successful, however, for libraries I have a good salary. Until. We are waiting for what the cancellation of the ETS will bring us. Nevertheless, I am lucky that I love my job, I know this profession, I graduated from a university in this specialty, I see the purpose of my activity. Chief Technologist, I am responsible for the adaptation of traditional library processes to automated technologies. Accordingly, a future dissertation on this. While I was conscientiously attending graduate studies as much as I could, this year I passed two candidate exams for A's. And I am especially proud of English, which I went to take because I studied German at school and at the institute, and I got tired of it. I twice went to Novosibirsk for advanced training, reporting and studying. Now is a very difficult moment - you need to get together and force yourself to sit down and work on the collected and accumulated material. Since I am a person who is carried away and does not like to do unfinished work, I am afraid that at the same time I will go to work, that in a binge, and the turning points, both in my personal life and for our professional organizations, will pass by irrevocably. But for now, a candidate's degree is the only prospect for me to fix something in everyday life.
Among my friends I can name Eldar Akhadov, Mikhail Melnichenko and Mikhail Dementyev. This does not mean that I love many others less, we just communicate less. Significant periods of friendship have also made me akin to people who are far from literature, but from this they do not cease to be dear. Some of them are from kindergarten, from school, from students. Also, over time, you realize that people will not be dearer and closer to parents, sisters and brothers. The creative leadership of literary clubs has the same effect; we are seriously friends with some of our pupils.
Since, like most normal people, I live from paycheck to paycheck, many hobbies are simply not available. Go to a sports store and see how much even a regular stopwatch costs now! Work, science, events and personal creativity eat up most of the time, I often have to spend my free time working with manuscripts, mountains carry them to me. I don't watch TV for six months. From time to time I look through modern book and film novelties. Sometimes, to distract myself, I play simple computer games. And sometimes I just get depressed, I cram into a chair and, according to the Russian intellectual habit, I begin to doubt myself, analyzing and figuring out whether I did everything in order to ...

Did you know: in Novosibirsk

In addition to the metro, there is a roller coaster!

Not high and not low

Reminiscent props

From some absurd movie.

With the indispensable presence of lightning and thunderstorms

More effective are exclamations in the morning,

Airplane steam locomotive,

Shaking arrogance and bravado.

Think about it if: shame on Obi for what?

The coolness just melts away.

The shores just came close ...

Even felt in Novosibirsk,

How dreams, obsessions intertwine:

If you fall, then it's fun, with a squeal,

If in the sky - forgiveness is more tender.

Do you know: incredible, but

Woland came up with this attraction,

To be able to fly out the window

You are Margarita, and I am a poet ...

When it gets colder -
Autumn quotes Blok.
The curtain sways
One-sided above the window.

We, as always, did not have time
We wonder - what about us?
And somewhere blizzards are howling
Locked in the basement

Between cans, sacks, potatoes,
Getting ready to go outside.
And we pick up the crumbs
Old sensations and weary

About what could be said
And only a hassle came out ...
The curtain sways
As if he was quoting Blok.

And it seemed - you are my asteroid!

Nonsense - the wreck of love!

On a tangent ... and will not cover,

Only will melt my hopes.

Not much to know the attraction,

There is an abundance of mirrors in the atmosphere.

Fly by, take the reflection.

Nonsense - a broken glass!

And it seemed that the iceberg was on course,

Waterloo, polundra, cabzdets.

On a tangent ... I celebrate the coward.

Nonsense is a wreck of hearts.

It turned out, and I'm not the Titanic,

But the glass is not weak.

A mechanic climbs tangentially

Fix the saddle on the cow.

Pushed off, touching the edges,

We beat the crystal service, it rattles.

Bullshit - reversing roles

On the debris of extinct orbits.

It's like that. Constellation of the Horse,

The bow grader strikes aimingly.

I trudge aimlessly from December

Some year on a day like this

Mosaic of hassle around

Where obediently folds at once

In an instant that's ingenuous

I will stop, change to a bow.

And having forgiven everyone, keeping a secret,

I'm just like that, by the way

I will rush under the veil of the night

Bridging the constellation of the Horse.

At the old bus station

That slumbers in the silence of the night

We will wait neither more nor less,

A snow dance from outside.

From the impenetrable darkness towards

A snowplane is coming down to us

And confuses caps and shoulders

Those who are waiting for the bus.

From the sleeping bus station

Boots creak in the snow,

Running late,

Sifted through a snow-leaf.

The bus rushed into the dark.

And I secretly admired:

Snowflakes were crowned in eyelashes,

A headband was woven into the hair.

I don't know anything about astrology

At least I drink vodka with a local astronomer.

He gave me a poor telescope,

And I opened my universe.

Confused by the signs of the zodiac

He stirred the constellations in wine,

I climbed to kiss, frowned and cried,

And I counted the stars in my sleep.

What does it matter to me when beyond the sun

A supernova sorrow is born

And when the sky is about to explode

And the heart will break by chance?

When the star bangs on my roof

When love and sadness are at the same time

The astronomer sleeps, forgot himself and does not hear,

As I fly through the broken window

To a galaxy of love where there are no goodbyes

Where a caressing chill awaits me

Your palms and your desires

Where we don't need a telescope at all ...

COLD

Dragons did not die out - they were crushed!

Hunched over with humps over their shoulders

They entered a frozen trolleybus

They pressed themselves into fur coats,

warmed up,

warmed up,

basked

And opened their concave mouths

Letting off steam.

Hieroglyph harsh

They gave a sign to their fellows on precipitation,

Letting off steam;

Poor hieroglyph

They gave a sign to their fellow weathermen:

I'm here! I'm lonely! Sad!

The dragons did not die out - they were crushed ...

In just a few seconds

Fell in love with a white cow

I walked barefoot across the sky

They are probably waiting for her somewhere.

Take your time, followed the camel

Thoughtfully walked somewhere,

A white dog was running

And the crocodile was looking for shelter.

Behind him is a snub-nosed rhino

He scratched his belly against the trees.

Where the animals ran in a crowd,

I couldn't find out before the rain.

Shepherd with a blank look

He led the herd hastily, without looking back.

A milkmaid walked briskly towards

Thundering empty milk bin ...

We interfere with each other in an intelligent sofa system,

We do not hear each other, wrapped in a vacuum of business,

Maybe you should get drunk, then be scolded?

Because I haven't sung my songs for a long, long time.

Loss of the ability to cry is sometimes astounding

When the apple tree smells unbridled and inept.

We interfere with each other like a dog interferes with a cat.

Because, my God, how long have I not sung my songs!

If you ignore the expectations of the New Year,

On which a torpedo rushes in the evening tea,

So we will interfere with boring television broadcasting with bad weather.

Because she hasn't sung her songs for me for a long time ...

First love story -

It’s just a sad tale.

Start a conversation about her -

You may not be able to stop.

Just a reason to grab the breasts

A piece of innocent paper

Dream that your descendants

Look for fate between the lines.

Do not! And that's the whole point.

A meaningless word fall.

Separation is not death or pain

And the memory for the option.

How much it means to me

Your last kiss, unsteady!

Trying a tiny smile

Means so much to me!

And I know: you need me

So confused and distant!

It's time to part, the deadlines are out,

Even if you need me.

Even if the sky is somersault!

We do not play hide and seek with fate.

But my heart aches inconsolably

Under the sky that somersault.

Hand in hand. Your palm

Trembles, says goodbye and cries.

Means a lot to both of us

Stand like this: palm to palm ...

TRACK

There are days like good dreams

In the midst of autumn heat

In which women from the past

They stand on the way like mirrors ...

A. Novikov "Redhead"

Reflection burns with raster

Through the triptych - an old trellis,

Where is love - three-headed Serpent Gorynych

He did not disdain the number of thefts.

It's hot, languid, antics are spinning,

Opening the holds without desire.

And love goldfish

Saluting with troughs at random.

A fairy tale more beautiful than nettle bites

Blisters through my heart.

Thread of love - multicolored beads

I was overwhelmed by powerlessness.

And slid over breasts, knees,

And rolled on the floor like hail

Three favorite poems

Reflecting me out of place.

On those gateways, love has endured -

Hugs hastily with a briefcase under his arm.

Ah Tanechka! How about you overheated

The boy's still inconsistent heart!

Where is the cold-cold - there is a snowdrift on the bench,

Sour school desk and the delight of absenteeism.

Ah Tanechka! How you wrinkled your forehead

Moistening the corner of the pillow with a tear!

The subject of gossip of an old woman's boredom -

Extracurricular happiness among the Komsomol.

Ah, Tanechka! What is so short-sighted

Your choice of bed, final goal?

On those gateways love frayed,

Like an unreturned Tsvetaeva volume.

Ah Tanya, Tanya! You just tried

Build your own dollhouse!

But again at the desk to cram integrals,

Where there is a cold, a cold, there is an ice in the heart.

Oh, little girl Tanya! You were just playing

Moistening a corner with a tear by the pillow.

I am a dress tailored along

Your figure

The mole doesn't know me yet

But only bills.

On the neck there is a price tag in a knot

Smothers a little.

Try it on, click your heel -

please the soul.

Who walks naked among people?

Some nudists.

Buy me, do not regret -

I'm new, clean.

And set your price

she is known:

He walks with me to the altar

my fiancee.

Boast to your friends, surprise

set up a fashion:

Not from the tarpaulin - go for it.

Together for years.

I go down from my shoulders to my knees

rustling on my hips.

And let it be a little ordinary

but not from the proud.

I've been serving you for ten years

akin to the skin.

Spot of regular cutlets

multiplies wrinkles.

More and more often I remain lying

needing ironing.

Your price rises again, to me -

two pieces of paper.

And one day a day came -

i washed the floors.

I smiled: and now

have not forgotten.

I'm a dress thrown into the tank

scraps around.

But flutters like a flag

a flap on a branch ...

That's right! Vonzi, Oksana

Aspen stakes between the ribs inward.

Crawled like a hedgehog from the fog,

To you, my grinning corpse.

Do you not know that the carrion

As I wear, I can’t drag.

And turn back into a man

Maybe just one night.

Your immortality is by right

Mixed in magic.

Limit on feelings, for fun:

To lie down and not to scurry.

That's the trouble with you immortals -

Measure the line with distrust,

But I, like the inert,

Half-dead - half-normal.

Not observing half-measure,

To taste the magic to its fullest,

I wanted Oksana the Queen

Although, at least, steal.

Didn't go to Pygmalions.

Drive the stake into the chest soon!

We, the dead, have laws:

Whoever revived, that and poke.

******************

There are days where healers are useless

Where eternity is stacked in an icy cave

Then I even reflect in the mirror

So that Gerda knows that she is still alive.

Silence, silence

Unsolved.

Let's drink wine in silence

You and me, you and me.

The corollas of roses wither

Ice cubes melt.

You will not ask for tears

Never ever.

The watch does not age

And, of course, they don’t lie.

Quarrels a handful of scatter

On the table, on the table ...

You will come back to me,

After weeping enmity.

In the silence, in the silence

I will wait, I will wait ...

If you spread your wings

If you could raise it up,

How would you love then?

It's unthinkable to guess.

If sea shawls

Anxiously intertwined above us,

How would you breathe?

Impossible to guess.

If you were a bird

I am a humpbacked whale,

Could each other dream

And watch the sunsets together?

In the meantime, we are people -

We hug until morning.

The birds will not be seen

And the fish cannot guess ...

This summer tumbled down

Like a skilful swimmer from the tower,

That there will be a surprise for the berry

The stargazing crown reported.

Abitura attacked the university

Which, of course, is ready for a siege.

And the price of the coveted watermelon

Going down plainly.

The sun melted the fresh asphalt

And reigned over the greenhouse.

This summer I wanted to dunk

Into freshly spilled milk ...

SHORE

In August, the days finally came out of the rivers.

Let's get lost on the beach and plunge into the lost

Swollen sunset. A curly measured run

Let the clouds-horses turn into turtle ones.

Volumetric time as a sand slides on the shoulder,

To the other - the salty hair of the cute one clung to.

What else do I need? If I still want something -

Still kissing up to the waist in the tide lambs.

The languor will drown. Darling, do you hear, it has come

The very same happiness: big as the sky fell

A pink cloud into a whirlpool, almost a UFO ...

What else? Well, what did I still lack?

THEORY

In physics, I behaved like a mouse.

When the teacher said something

And talked about the strength of the current,

Neighbor on the desk with the nickname Kamysh

I loaded the fire in half a turn

And imperceptibly littered with matches.

Sergey copied at Svetka,

Casting a distracted gaze on the class,

The riddle of the Pythagorean theorem.

And outside the window the wind is dry

Carnival the city with falling leaves.

And everyone gave a damn about that Pythagoras.

When the world is curious, weightless,

You don't need to invent a wheel.

Much better vegetation in schools

Drive embarrassed classmates to the movies

And kiss at the mailboxes ...

The melancholy of September storms is brave.

The dog is looking for the smell of the owner,

Trustingly pulls the muzzle to the string bags,

It clings to the knives of strangers restlessly.

Lean, with a discreet red color.

He will see himself in the showcase of "Crystal",

The thought of the sad eyes will water:

How did I lose him like that?

Get lost, it is bad for him to worry ...

If something is not forgotten,

If anything remains -

Like blue snow

It stretches like curtains

How the moon is filling

Curious yellow.

This dance is for the snow

And for Mishka and Marinka.

Midnight couple

In the bustle of snow:

Is there a secret here?

Far from discord

We walked for a long time

And they laughed softly

To make sense

And the moon and the drift ...

Blond hair burns with its whiteness,

We smoked one cigarette for two at the entrance,

You wanted to cry, but I was in a hurry to go home

Where on TV Shtrilitz spies according to the plot.

What happened to you, unfamiliar girl Lena?

Maybe a friend left or a drunk parent is raging?

I'm familiar with melancholy and dry insult-treason,

You will not understand, you will not forgive, even if I kiss you.

Loneliness howls and tears like Pleischner through the window,

The sour summer wanders in the maze of the entrance.

I'll leave, you will smoke and maybe cry a little.

What will change in the world when a cigarette burns out?

Streltsov Mikhail is a writer who loved to create prose, author of many essays and a famous translator. He was a talented and successful person. In addition, in some stories he proved himself to be a subtle psychologist. In the article we will tell you about the fate of this famous person.

Mikhail Streltsov: biography

The future writer was born in 1937 on February 14. The village of Sychin is the birthplace of Mikhail, which was located on the territory of today's Slavgorodsky district of the Mogilev region of Belarus. The writer's father was an ordinary, but intelligent person, and worked as a teacher in the village.

Mikhail graduated from high school in 1954. After that he entered the Faculty of Philology of Journalism of the Belarusian State University. VI Lenin, where he studied for 5 years. Graduated from the institute in 1959. Immediately went to work for the newspaper "Literature and Art", where he worked until 1961.

Then the writer worked in the oldest political magazine "Polymya" from 1961 to 1962. Then he moved to the literary and art magazine "Maladost", where he worked until 1968. The leadership of the newspaper "Literature and Mastatstva" convinced Mikhail to return to them on more favorable terms, and he agreed, where he worked until 1972.

Already in 1984, Streltsov was offered to become the head of the art department. He gladly began to work in this position, where he also achieved success. At the same time, he received a good salary. Of course, he did not want to lose a lucrative job, so he sought to stay in this place as long as possible. However, at the same time he did not forget about his hobby and wrote prose in his free time.

In August 1987, Streltsov died of esophageal cancer. The writer was buried in Minsk at the Chizhovsky cemetery.

Creation

The author's debut took place in 1957 in the magazine "Maladost". It published the story "Home". Streltsov's first collection was published in 1962 under the title Blakitny Vecer, in which the writer proved himself not only a good psychologist, but also an expert on life and everyday life in cities and villages.

Mikhail published in 1966 a wonderful collection of Hay on the Pavement, where he was able to reveal the psychology of man in an amazing way. The story was about one student, who until recently was a village man, but became a city man. Here he showed a harmonious combination of emotions and intelligence.

Already in 1970, Streltsov published the story "Adzin lapats, adzin chun", which described the character of one teenager in the post-war period. It was a psychological story, which is rather difficult to read, but it has many cognitive moments. It was here that the writer revealed the fact how difficult it is to survive in difficult conditions, and how children know how to adapt to this.

In 1973, a collection of poems "The Juniper Bush" was released. It was he who gave color to the writer's work, where subtle psychology and lyrical thinking were felt.

In many poems and collections of prose, one could feel the soulfulness, sincerity of the author, his purity and loyalty to his human vocation. All these works make you think about the meaning of life, what we are doing wrong. They give every person confidence in the future.

Many books in prose (short stories, novellas) were published by the author in 1986-1987:

• "Padarozhzha over the city";
• "Chosen";
• "On Usamin Ab Radasts";
• "My candles are clear."

The writer in his work combined impressionistic manners and intelligence. Many literary scholars argue that Mikhail Mikhailovich Streltsov is more related to the philological generation.

Many of the collections have been translated into Polish, Russian, Ukrainian, Bulgarian, English, Italian. Streltsov himself also participated in this process.

Editions

Mikhail Streltsov wrote a lot of poems. In addition, he published prose, essays, novels and short stories. Some of the works have even been translated from Belarusian into Russian:

• "Juniper bush";
• "The shadow of the oar";
• "My clear light";
• "More and tomorrow";
• "Life in the Word";
• "In sight";
• "The Riddle of Bogdanovich";
• "Master's Seal";
• "Young Guard", etc.

Mikhail also wrote a literary-critical collection, where he elevated and analyzed great people: Bogushevich, Kupala, Rusetsky, Bogdanovich, Cherny, Gartny, Kolas, Dubovka, Kuleshov, Byaduli, Goretsky, etc.

Awards and awards

Thanks to his poetry and drama in the Belarusian language, the writer was awarded the Yanka Kupala Literary Prize.

Streltsov had such a book, for which he was awarded. This is a collection of poems "My clear light".

Conclusion

Mikhail Streltsov was a sincere person and this can be seen in his works. Only such an honest writer can write pure, sincere, and instructive stories.

Mikhail Streltsov was able to prove that it is thanks to frankness and feelings that one can live and enjoy life, as well as transmit this state of mind to the people around him.

Poet, prose writer. Born in 1973 in the town of Myski, Kemerovo Region. In 1995 he graduated from the Kemerovo State Institute of Arts and Culture.

Chairman of the Krasnoyarsk regional office of the Union of Russian Writers since 2008. Delegate of the IV Congress of the PSA. Member of the Literary Fund of Russia and the International Literary Fund. Deputy Chairman of the Krasnoyarsk branch of the Literary Fund of Russia. From 2008 to 2012, executive secretary of the literary magazine "Day and Night".

Participant of all-Siberian literary seminars in Tomsk (2000) and Krasnoyarsk (2001). Participant of the I Forum of Young Russian Writers (Lipki, 2001), the Eternal Sails science fiction convention (Krasnoyarsk, 2011), the Voloshinsky September festival (Koktebel, 2013). Laureate and diploma winner of the regional competition named after I. Rozhdestvensky (2013), diploma winner of the anthology "Ice and Fire" (2013).

Since 2002, the creative director of the youth literary club "Alley" at the Siberian Technological University:

Organizer of the regional poetry competition "King of Poets". In 2014, the competition celebrated its 10th anniversary. Fragments of the competition:

Published in magazines and almanacs: "Lights of Kuzbass", "Day and Night" (Krasnoyarsk), "North" (Petrozavodsk), "New Nemiga" (Minsk), "Priokskie Zori" (Tver), "Children of Ra" (Moscow) , "Northern Aurora" (St. Petersburg), "Lifestyles" (San Francisco), "Zinziver" (St. Petersburg), "Moscow", "Biysk Vestnik", "Faturum-Art" (Moscow), "Siberian Athens ”(Tomsk),“ Chasovenka ”(Krasnoyarsk),“ New Yenisei writer ”(Krasnoyarsk),“ Ruslo ”(Krasnoyarsk),“ Ice and Fire ”(Moscow),“ Paravoz ”(Moscow). In recent years, journalism has been published in the newspaper Literaturnaya Rossiya, and new stories have been published on the literary network resource Original

Publications in collective collections: "Poets of Myskov" (Kemerovo, 1993), "More expensive than silver and gold" (Kemerovo, 1994), "Pushkin Square" (Kemerovo, 1999), "New Element" (Moscow, 2002), "Trace from flight "(Kemerovo, 2004)," Poets of the University "(Kemerovo, 2005)," Holiday breathes with light ... "(Krasnoyarsk, 2005)," Medicine for the blues "(Krasnoyarsk, 2006)," The light of native birches "(Krasnoyarsk, 2006 ), "Anthology of one poem" (Krasnoyarsk, 2008), "Anthology of Siberian poetry of the 20th century" (Kemerovo, 2008), "Anthology of one story" (Krasnoyarsk, 2009), "Message to the Universe" (Krasnoyarsk, 2009), "Candle over the Yenisei "(Krasnoyarsk, 2009)," Do not lose me. Please ... "(Murmansk, 2012)," Incredible land! " (Krasnoyarsk, 2013)

The following books were published under the editorship:

• Igor Potekhin. A little closer (in the cassette "Let it be served light"), 2004;
• Svetlana Ermolaeva. On the outskirts of the Universe (in the "Let it be served light" cassette), 2004;
• Anatoly Kobzev. Right to Error (in the "Let it Be Filed" cassette), 2004;
• Margarita Radkevich. Draw me! (in the cassette "Let it be served light"), 2004;
• Alexander Vasilevsky. Sails and Anchors (in the cassette Let it be served light), 2004;
• "The holiday breathes with light ...: Jubilee literary anthology for the 75th anniversary of SibSTU", 2005;
• Pavel Zemlyansky. Debut. - Zheleznogorsk, 2006;
• Vladimir Kazantsev. The acquired tango (in the cassette "The King and the Retinue"), 2006;
• Daria Lysenko. Two Me (in the cassette "The King and the Retinue"), 2006;
• Ulyana Yavorskaya. Konopushki (in the cassette "King and Retinue"), 2006;
• Maxim Pushkarev. Bare Knee Shadow (in The King and Retinue cassette), 2006;
• Arthur Matveev. The illusion of trance (in the tape "The King and the Retinue"), 2006;
• Igor Potekhin. HOUR: not boring and spontaneous research. - Krasnoyarsk, 2006;
• Steltsova Ulyana Kuzminichna. My destiny: an autobiography. - Krasnoyarsk, 2006;
• Andrey Teslenko. Kohai: a tale of karate. - Krasnoyarsk, 2007;
• Lola Belovskaya. Amalia: the crossroads of secrets. - Krasnoyarsk, 2007
• Valentina Buneva. Music of the rain. - Krasnoyarsk, 2008;
• Daria Veryasova. Hypoglycemia (in the tape "The King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Anna Cherkashina. Dry residue (in the cassette "King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Rustam Karapetyan. Four Sides of Heaven (in The King of Revenge cassette), 2008;
• Igor Noskov. The Cycle (in the cassette "King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Svetlana Mel. That accidental gulp (in the tape "King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Tatiana Harmatz. Free flight (in the cassette "King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Ivan Zhukovsky. Perpetual motion machine (in the cassette "King of Revenge"), 2008;
• Tina Koshkina. Wing generator. - Krasnoyarsk, 2008
• Lola Belovskaya. Amalia: in search of herself. - Krasnoyarsk, 2009
• Message to the Universe: a collection of small prose by Krasnoyarsk writers. - Krasnoyarsk: PIK "Offset", 2009;
• A candle over the Yenisei: poems of Krasnoyarsk poets. - Krasnoyarsk: PIK "Offset", 2009;
• Tina Koshkina. AntiglAmoor. - Krasnoyarsk, 2010;
• Nikolay Bronsky. The fate of the fighter: memoirs, documents, correspondence. - Krasnoyarsk: LLC IPC "KASS", 2010;
• Natalia Arbatskaya. Mockingbird (in the tape "The King of Poets: The New League"), 2010;
• Olga Gulyaeva. Woman's song (in the cassette "The King of Poets: New League"), 2010
• Alexander Komandin. A Room Without Walls (in the tape "The King of Poets: A New League"), 2010;
• Mikhail Pashkin. No answer (in the tape "The King of Poets: The New League"), 2010;
• Stanislav Fenkov. Double solid (in the cassette "The King of Poets: The New League"), 2010
• Alexander Matveichev. Kazanov A. in the Celestial Empire, 2010 (supplement to the magazine "Day and Night" "DiN-novel". - Issue 1)
• Alexander Kakhomsky. Operation "Enormoz", 2011 (supplement to the magazine "Day and Night" "DiN-Roman". - Issue 2)
• Alexander Az. Strong as death, love, 2011 (supplement to the magazine "Day and Night" "DiN-romance". - Issue 3)
• Lyudmila Belousova. Dream of a butterfly, 2011 (supplement to the magazine "Day and Night" "DiN-Novel". - Issue 4)
• Yuri Dobrynin. The city of Balamut, or Faraday's Law, 2011 (supplement to the magazine "Day and Night" "DiN-novel". - Issue 5)
• Diana Arekhanova. Intellect Machiavelli, 2012 ("DiN-novel": edition of the PKK PSA). - Issue 2
• Evgeny Orlov. Take care to live, 2012 ("DiN-romance": publication of the KRP PSA). - Issue 3
• Evgenia Vilenskaya. Late Spring (in the cassette "The King of Poets: Five to Five"), 2012
• Nina Novikova. Winds to meet (in the cassette "King of Poets: five to five"), 2012
• Vitaly Ovcharenko. God on the Roof (in the tape "The King of Poets: Five to Five"), 2012
• Sergey Tsvetkov, Ekaterina Malinovskaya. Red and black (in the cassette "The King of Poets: five to five"), 2012
• Olga Koshka. Subway (in the cassette "The King of Poets: Five by Five"), 2012
• Incredible land !: a literary map of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. - Krasnoyarsk: Class plus, 2013
• 33 Poets: Anniversary Anthology of the King of Poets Competition. - Krasnoyarsk: Sevensvet, 2014.