i hear removed speech on the street, and not on the street, and i have never received an aggressive reaction in response, i just explain that it is unpleasant to listen to, if you need to talk like that, please talk quietly so that they don’t hear you they are embarrassed, understand and say: “yes, yes, sorry, we won’t.” we must understand that language is a tool, very rich, very diverse, grandiose, with a huge number of elements. components of capabilities, our task is to learn how to use this tool correctly, then there are some situations that can be said , there are life situations when the non-use, for example, of obscene vocabulary is inappropriate, it’s like, well, for example, in the army in closed men’s groups, in the army, if a person demonstratively does not use obscene vocabulary, he will create problems for yourself, this may be a conscious choice, but you need to understand that...

irritation to severe irritation, from moderate delight to overwhelming delight, maybe schoolchildren should be taught to use it, yes they know how, yes i it seems better than us, we really have ways of expressing, these are the emotions, yes, they appeared before our eyes literally, but they are graphic, well, we now have a lot of communication, it’s absolutely true, but what kind of communication would it be? now spontaneous

communication is written, and as if in real time, yes, which was not the case before , that is, correspondence was always postponed, so to speak, it was, that is, there was some distance between creation and receipt, now this distance seems to be gone, but that’s all equals when you create written text, when you give birth, you put the letters next to each other, this is not as spontaneous communication as oral communication, can this be the case with us? with you, but for some twelve-year-old teenager, it’s still a process, it’s still a process, he still gives birth to a phrase, constructs it and thinks about what letters to put, he has such a phrase, he puts an indignant emoji, it’s the same the most that was sent to the mats, no, well, maybe, well, this is also a means of expressing emotions, quite fast, but at the same time i’m not sure that it is so as uncontrollable as a swear word escaping. just as strong,

i don’t think so, we need to study it, it’s interesting, by the way, that if we have already started talking about written language, then we have graphic euphemisms, it’s like, because not only when sounding a common word, but when writing it and, accordingly reading, a person also experiences stress because it is breaking a taboo, and there are means to reduce this stress. graphic aphemization, when we replace individual letters of a familiar word with other letters or other symbols, yes, that is, we did not directly write all three letters, which, for example , we meant, but replaced the vowel with something, this is a graphic fimization, that is, also such a hint so that it would not be so scary to write and read, and this is a lot right now, well, alas, it’s time for us to end our conversation, let’s... proclaim the main thing that we

wanted to communicate is that the mat should be taken care of, it should be used less often, not because it is bad, but because it valuable, take care of russian swearing, take care of the russian language, including russian swearing, because this is a valuable resource, and there is no need to babble on it, thank you very much marya, many thanks to those who listened to us, may the force be with you on... science and the power of language, all episodes of our podcast can be found on the first website channel 1tv.ru. hello, the creative industry podcast is live. i am sure that you remember these immortal lines. you don't choose times.

they live in them and die, there is no greater vulgarity in the world than crying and blaming, as if they could be exchanged for these like in the market, and the nursery, they led me to the house where he lived first... or me, well, since i write poetry, this will be basically the topic of our conversation. i started writing poetry very early, probably at the age of 9-10, i think that knowing

a child, death, early knowledge, at 4 years old at 5 years old, helps. leniya and maybe even somehow influences future poems, my father, having returned from the front, he fought on the leningrad front, reached the port of pilau in germany, and by the way received the order of the red star back in forty-two, and my mother and i lived with relatives with an older sister father. i was hungry in syzarny, one day my mother was working, she worked as a typist, she typed on a typewriter, she brought a bun from work, and it was absolute happiness, because in my eyes, i no longer remembered, i didn’t remember that there were

buns in the world, only bread, in kindergarten , for example, i remember two wonderful children, uh, brother and sister, small and one day they came to kindergarten crying, what happened, the father died at the front, it’s clear, i think that the child’s knowledge, and death, early knowledge, at 4 years old at 5 years old, promotes maturation. and maybe it even somehow influences future poems, so that means i can read, let’s say i took a big book with me, so i

’ll read the poem that was included in my book, the first impression was called, you know, this is 60, 1962 a year, can you imagine how long ago, when i’m very bored, i take out my notebook, without shouting, without gasping, i ’ll call someone, oh the voices of my friends, thank you, thank you for being at home. on weekday evenings, because in the difficult interweaving of your love and grief, you forgot, how you live, you said nothing, behind the ordinary words there was such kindness, as if god

was standing behind you, telling you then, and imagine, everything... a creation with the word god was published in soviet times, yes, it ’s amazing, really, once i called brodsky and asked how you were living, he said: you answered, nothing, that is , you remembered this poem, you know, i was in london and... paris, venice and rome, nothing better than st. petersburg, after all, i didn’t i know, and this is not boasting, st. petersburg seems to me very beautiful, only the only condition is, you have to come in the summer, to the main

headquarters building, a roll of yellow paper, unfolded from left to right, concave like... to the horizon, oh sky, oh the sea of ​​drawing gloss, oh the cold height of the sky, oh, break out of the hands of the italian, curl up into a tube again, under his gray raincoat, tucked under his arm, so that the seams would tear, so that the italian would walk in a pinch in the shade of st. petersburg gardens, in the wind in the wild cold, and just looking after him, i understand between a century and a moment, there is no particular difference, more than constructed buildings, in i absolutely love urban people,

cheerful, this consciousness, the mysterious obliviousness of them, quarenghi was a classicist and did not like borocco, but shoot, he said so, but when i pass by the smolny cathedral i take off my hat, and i really want to take off my hat every now and then, because the city is really so beautiful, why is it all crossed by rivers, where you will find such an avenue as nevsky, which is crossed by the moika, the fontanka, and the griboyedov canal, which is more correct, of course , to be called ekaterinsky, because griboyedov is a muscovite, he is here... has nothing to do with ekaterina it was built, and then there’s the neva

, and so on, in general, an absolute miracle, yes, here ’s the poem st. petersburg rivers, i see, i see , early in the morning, rushing into the neva, and the bypass, and the fountain, a similar bottle, the kronlerg river, and channels without a bridle, i see the morning agility, their name over the planks of the deadly black river, an elusive thread, i hear, i hear, an awkward sigh, crying over a life lived, i see yakosringovki, glare, reflections, horseshoes, fat. oil color, i see a gray tint,

a sink, a woman, an umbrella, hooks, climbing wall, buckle, karpovka, smolenka, styx, cocytus, yacheront, you see, connected to the st. petersburg rivers, two ancient afterlife ones, well, because st. petersburg has not seen anything on its own. kuku in his story , you’ve seen all sorts of things, you come home, rustling your cloak , wiping the rain from your cheeks, is life still mysterious, is it still mysterious, there is no need for shadowy ghosts, it’s dark without that, ah, the prose in it is even stranger, more mysterious than anything, dear to me life is large, the plan is uneven, and the signs in it are seen as if through a strong microscope, a biologist

will say, the screw is circling, that you can’t take your eyes off, i don’t know if there is a soul in us, but in the cage he will say, there is, and he is all the more embarrassed because he is secretly dedicated, well, that means you can still live, mysteriously you will still come home, your hand in chalk, as if propped up, and this the night, and this darkness, and the stone portal, will be worn out by marble and granite, do not remember insults, but remember how the foliage flies to the feet of the criatids, how the world sways, hold on...

stained with chalk, how did it happen that you were scolded on the one hand, the soviet government scolded and the soviet press scolded, on the other hand they published a lot. i can say why? now i ’ll read it and you’ll understand, after all, i feel confident, and so that my soul doesn’t take over, for a while, blinding me, i have two things to do, my friend, two things to do, let them

try to confuse me, i’m not busy with business, they say, two things , i would risk comparing myself to a swallow in the sense that i flap my two wings, hold me, a stream of air, i glance, ask, i insist, who is clumsy here, not me, i move with a pen and press with chalk, if someone is standing behind...

if only you, dosenichka sings, mr. general, selfless service of the bushes, of the dense forest, a wall like the franco-soviet friendship, and even stronger than it. you read akhmatova’s poems , your own, akhmatova’s, i visited her several times,

unlike... brodsky, bobushev, rein and naimen, who went in four, i came alone, and i’ll tell you this is much more difficult, it’s clear why, the first since lydia yakovlevna, ginsburg, brought me there, he was a wonderful philologist, she is a student of yuri tynyanov, ekhenbaum,

he german chancellor olaf scholz went to washington, if the situation worsens as a result of russia’s war against ukraine, we will have to answer. germany agreed to increase military tranches to ukraine. the americans are creating rapid reaction troops. and the germans there will form the main strike force. they want to push germany and russia out. all of germany is on ears. it's not just farmers. criminal, traitor to the motherland. mercedes leaves germany. americans with crunch. are eating up the german economy, his whole appearance suggests that this man has long been accustomed to groveling. scholz is germany's chief undertaker. he stops the conflict he doesn’t want to and can’t, he already has blood on his hands and he understands that for him this is the end of his career. germany, which has reduced almost all of its social programs, has earmarked 100 billion euros for rearmament, must increase its armed forces so that they are equal to russia, can you

imagine? that is, they are seriously preparing for the third world war. abandoned germany. “i’ll never get used to how tall you are, but now is the time, mikhail mikhailovich, to play pranks, until the second coming. wait for trubetskoy, let him dream, and we will make st. petersburg teeming with conspirators, we must speak out openly against the sovereign, then

it will become obvious to everyone what has become obvious to me, he is weak and insignificant, which means he is not needed, what will happen now, katya, big premiere, union of salvation, so we begin, prince, soon, on the first. i think that the best thing in russia is its poetry, you wonder if anyone there can, well, i mean no, of course, the germans have many poets, wonderful ones, the british too, but still, how do you start listing , starting with derzhavin, though we can’t forget, father until pushkin.

western necessarily the phrase begins with what further in western poetry and not only in with the subject i went i went out into the street and he looked out the window and so on and so on and so on.

“i love the tyranny of rhyme, it achieves, it makes sudden meaning and perfection, and truly, a bird of paradise suddenly flies in , it turns out that there is bliss on earth, how unhappy would i be without this compulsion?” "without a barrier, an obstacle and an expensive hint, and would not know what was not i have enough

consolation, surprise, confusion, an unexpected meeting, a shake-up, this is the russian language, with its booming cases, suffixes and easy running, emphasis, but we won’t go into details between us, a gift is a gift, only a gift, and our language a genius came up with this, and there are as many of these as you like, you know, this is some kind of miracle, free, some kind of great freedom in the russian language in this sense with an epigraph, may be cruel with the white nights from the block, it wouldn’t be... place, neither fear nor anger, all our sins would be forgiven if

there, abroad, in europe, the russians knew poetry, if they had been able to read them in russian, they would have said it like this, i dreamed of lermontov during the march, and then... starnak, you know, tanks, submarines, aircraft carriers, that doesn’t count , fit drove past the grove in a carriage, the block stood at the gate, may really can be cruel, disastrous, white night, with reason, it is impossible not to cool these construction sites with time. my first book was torn apart, it was terribly scolded in the newspaper smena, lengradskaya, komsomolskaya, and you know where else, in

moskovsky? it hurts, i’ll tell you the truth, it was very painful, but why they scolded me, for what, for what they scolded me, for the intimacy, that was their favorite word, they scolded me for the intimacy, for the love of objectivity, for the lack of poems about great construction projects

, well, how, how, yes, that i would live, no other country needs it, translate it into sanskrit, even into french, it’s pathetic out of confusion, it’s in a foreign rich language, all languages ​​are rich in their own way, it lives in an uncharacteristic melancholy, the sound does not go to the sound, and his lips are compressed, imagine

a picture, all the brains are painted with paints by someone else's hand, the original copy is close, but raphael on the copy, as if in a mask, will like it, but is unlikely to delight, no matter what frame the list is stolen, the poet values ​​​​his country, falling in love with it in grief, in misfortune, that's it for...

and so on, everyone who stayed here, they left, i came to school, and my students looked at me with kind eyes, and sympathized with me, they understood that it was dishonest, this defeat, and moreover, the book was taken off the shelves, ten thousand copies, it was instantly... stingy, i'm not bragging, well, brodsky had to leave, he had a different character, he had a different character , it was not for nothing that he wrote the cry of a hawk, and i wrote about seagulls and swallows, well, then they really didn’t publish him, they held a trial for him, a shameful one against him, of course he was tortured

, but i must say that he was bored there, in fact, i know this, because when i asked him, how are you doing here, i and you were visiting him, i was not allowed out in soviet times, then they released me, i said, well, how do you like it here, he says, no, it doesn’t matter, wrote a word poem against me, which was called a letter to an oasis. wow, are we an oasis? yes in what year? in ninety-one and two, when we, excuse me, had nothing to eat, i was terribly upset, well, there was such a disagreement that happened, then he apologized, then they made up again, everything was restored, everything was fine, he spoke and before that, then at my evening seeing him very well, here he is, he wrote how... some

wonderful words, here’s something else, you know, you can show it, you know, may 18, 1972, second year, it’s like... yes, he was leaving, how did it happen, i was working part-time back then, not at school, of course , on newsreels, reading some texts there, i went out, and he came towards me, well, we hugged, that’s all, and he says, i want go to marina, you wait for me, to marina basmanova, she said: it’s near rimsky korssky, why does he want to come, and i want to tell her about leaving, that is, he made the final decision to leave, i was horrified by this,

of course, upset, but he received the nobel prize, and i tell him, well , you see, you left, you won, but i didn’t, i lost, but he says, i don’t think so, because it’s his life. it’s not fun, but am i really having fun getting married? no, and you, are you lucky? no , i don’t read everything to myself now, but i don’t complain, at least i don’t complain, that’s how life works, people are not at all the same, they are built differently, that’s how it should be, and what about joseph brodsky wrote to you, what did he write? to dear alexander, from the handsome joseph, in a good place, in a bad time, brodsky, of course, yes, seventy-second, he made wonderful inscriptions on books,

one end of a wonderful era, here he wrote to sasha and lena, lena is my wife, elena is unsightly, sasha to elena, for the boundless. with tenderness joseph borodsky, well, on the book of burania, it’s absolutely funny, dear alexander, from joseph, who loves him tenderly, signature new york, and also across the way comes, attention, attention, urania is coming at you. of course, he remembered our childhood games, attention , attention, germany is coming at you, in my childhood this was accepted, everyone knew this, well, he used it, but how did you communicate

together then, what brought you together, what brought us together brought me closer, his poems brought me closer, of course, i loved his poems, he treated mine well, that’s true. so you know, when he died, for me it was the most difficult impression, it was the most difficult event, maybe his character will be clear from these poems, which i wrote this poem in the same year when he died in... i looked i thought about the poet, it’s lucky that he writes poetry and does not rule rome, because both

are called power, and under his knife, we would n’t have lived for a year, we’d have to integrate everyone. he concluded iron stanzas with anzhamman of life in side of glory and disaster, and threatening a tyrant, he was a tyrant. and i wouldn’t mind tearing my head off, even more so, for his lyrical gift and love for objects, the indifferent success of his sovereign. in the summer, with a decidedly soft light, in verse, his power, with a frayed cry and contempt for the two-legged, jealous of the stars,

climbed into my heart in a happy moment, inaccessible to coligul or menacing, blinded me, lifted me above the clouds, to which i myself was a hunter, i asked him for everything - so, hush, hush, give me my room, chair and armrest, and loved me and tyrannized me, i like it, swallows with blue fabric in scissors, quickly cutting, the far edge of heaven, kissed me, god be with you, well, it’s clear here, this is the attitude, you know, a wonderful poet...

to be unloved, my god, what a blessing

to be unhappy, to walk home in the rain, with a lost red face, what torment, grace, to sit with your lip bitten, to die 10 times a day and talk to yourself, what life is like, to go crazy, like a shadow staggering around the room , what a blessing it is to wait for a letter, for months and not wait. who told us that the world is at my feet, lying in tears, agreeing to everything, it is indifferent and cruel, but truly beautiful, what should i do with my grief? “sleep with your head covered at night, whenever

i wasn’t happy with him, i would stop loving myself, i’m not afraid, well, okay, but about happy love, and about happy love, yes, with pleasure, this is healing, some completely different life has begun for me, after we met without looking at each other and began to live together, since then we have lived a lot, what, more than 40 years together, what a joy it is to talk with you, talk, talk, what a joy, all evening, creep in night and night, oh, how it stretches, a starry, thin thread, stitching through this darkness, this magical pit, wolfish, long... you won’t reach an extra star in a year, together, in

a bearish corner, a somewhat deaf universe, they will wake up in a crowded room with an armchair and a round table, about life, about death, about the fact that they could miss each other, they could gape, just think, a century or two, they could stare at something, simply get lost in the treasured account, oh joy, you are here , you are alive, about kissing, and most importantly, talking, for thousands of golden years silence, for the entire pre-life experience, while we were kept in darkness.

flowers on the tablecloth, that's what i like here, otoychev's bliss, about the wondrous midday moisture, do you remember, about villa, do you remember how two crossed the threshold in the verses of evorim, frightening away the age-old languor, the cold, about the crust, snow-covered, poor land that we love, jealous of the heavenly home, well, here’s a poem.

and why there is only heaven, i’ll explain, because i can’t imagine god crying, who, what is hell, this, this is unimaginable, how can you torture a person every day, every day to torture him with fire and ice and so on, that you... could god really be like that? i am absolutely sure that there is no hell. what about heaven? this is a big problem. you know that i am not a church minister, but i have

doubts about this. i think. i dare say that heaven can also get boring , the same thing all the time, to tell the truth, i am many years old, i feel, i am already somewhat tired of life, tired, and if you imagine the same amount, and if infinity, yes you well, no soul can stand this. so to me it seems that i am not imposing this opinion on anyone , of course, it is only mine, but you asked, and i honestly answered, where do the poems come from, if not, if not from there, that is, there is no one there, why not, and where, tell me, uh,

the game of chess comes from, and where does the car come from, and where does higher mathematics come from? and so on, this is all the human mind , it is wonderfully designed, this is truly a miracle, i just can’t understand how this arose, how this is a mystery, the riddle remains, i don’t know its solution, i’m speaking honestly, i’m not saying anything yes or no, i have there are even poems: i believe in god or i don’t believe in god knows. the vyredsky road knows about this, the sea wave in crimea knows about this, whether i was open or whether i was closed to him, whether i write in capital letters or lowercase letters and so on, that is , it no longer doesn’t matter, you see, what’s important is that i don’t i know, no, he speaks in the shade, no

, i speak in the shade, in the sun, yes, like that, let me read it to you again... my friends, there were many of them, none of them believed in god, as is customary now, the iconostasis consisted of feta, tyutch block, when their heads were fooled, “have a conscience,” they said, their voice was bitter and quiet. they didn’t go to the party meeting , there were no party members among them, their books were cut up by censorship , they were spared by a fool’s bullet, and some went through arrest, they looked gloomily from distant

places, returning, like wild flowers, they knew how to make any one happy, snowberry, buttercup, he says the light, and i, the young people were drawn to them , i was warmed by their attention, there was authenticity in them, modesty, a superfluous word - spirituality, i don’t remember in restrained speeches, death, well death, there was a readiness for it and silence, and not fear, it's about... it's true, how do you feel about those who have left now? i will say one thing that writing poetry in

a foreign country is difficult, very difficult, so joseph complained to me, in the last years there in the nineties, that they don’t write poetry, but we know georgy ivanov, a very good poet from the old days. well, he still relates to that emigration , life was hard for him, poetry was written with difficulty , khodavich, who left, gave up writing poetry, but such a wonderful poet, well, how does fate turn out for someone, i can only say about myself, now they say, that our time has given birth to a new wave

of new young people... russia needs, i’ll read a comic poem, a small one, he who dances, he who doesn’t dance, davlatov loved him, he who

doesn’t dance dances, he knocks on a glass with a knife, he who doesn’t proudly dances, from the rostrum waving and shouting, who is really dancing and who is riding high on a horse, we have heard about attempts to abolish russian culture, how do you feel about these attempts, is it possible to abolish russian culture? no, of course, how will you cancel it, excuse me, will you hide tchaikovsky, or choose shostakovich, or artists gray, where are you and the queen, but how is this possible, in rubil, but not minua, but no , of course, and, but tolstoy, and czechs, but what are you,

this was created forever, where do you get energy, and how to do this so that life around you consists of swallows, and not of hawks, i’ll be honest, i don’t know, i don’t know. maybe it somehow depends on the character of the person, there are gloomy people, yes, i myself can be gloomy, it all depends on the mood, but still i will say, poetry cannot be written in the dark, poetry is joy, poetry is god’s gift , so it is possible to say, this is... a gift of fate, when you write them, you are happy, and i am sure that pushkin

was a happy man, and this despite all the troubles of his life, well, whoever you take, the same thing, and the same can be said about artists, the same can be said about composers, i recently read a book by berberova by ochaikovsky, it was very difficult, the book of life, i never thought it was so difficult, i won’t go into details, but his music is amazing, really, yes remember the queen of spades, yes, wonderful, i sing to her, it would seem, the queen of spades, gloomy plot, each period in life has its own charms, youth has some, maturity

has others, are there any, any joys? old age, i’ll tell you the truth, old age, time is hard, i won’t lie, all sorts of troubles appear, illnesses, here and there , but now i’ll try to remember my poems, the punishment for a long life, it’s called old age, but fate tells the old man, you punished, live, and lives with waxing, excitement, hope and joy, who did not live to old age, does not know everything, so on, during the pandemic it thundered on social networks,

poems, you don’t choose times

, you expect to be lucky, but you don’t want to live in a terrible world, you don’t dream of the plague, florentine and leprosy, you want to ride in first class, and not in a trium in the semi-darkness, what is not an age, then an iron age, but the garden is smoking wonderful , the cloud is fading, i will embrace, my age, my fate, goodbye time is torture, do not envy anyone, tight hugs, time is skin, not a dress, his imprint is deep, as if fingerprints from us, his features are folds, taking a closer look , you can take it.

hello everyone, this is a free podcast program our unexpected holiday episode , unexpected because our guest is the godmother of figure skating of the entire commentary department, tatyana anatolyevna tarasova, hello, and the voice of russian figure skating, alexander grishin, glad to welcome you, maxim, hello, ta, hello, sasha, welcome, i am extremely pleased to be together again in our company, but now in this wonderful... in the studio, tatyana anatolyevna, is it possible to be a commentator and at the same time have your favorites on the ice? it is only possible that no one knows or notices about this, because favorites are still favorites, those who are best, most interesting, who fall into your soul and you already love and are upset

about what they did, not they did it as if. as if yours are skating, but there are no dislikes, everyone is a favorite, but some are favorites, favorites, others are just favorites, but you can’t show this, you can only know about this yourself and feel it, but you can’t show it, everyone is all equal, that is, one of the arts commentator is to remain impartial, of course. whereas you received the tefi, remaining impartial, it seems to me that it was precisely for that passion that you received it, which was transmitted through television screens to absolutely every figure skating fan, well, it was such a human passion, when in women’s single skating you mean, yes, well, the human cried both from joy that ours won, and

from frustration that zhenya was second, an amazing program. i skated everything, i did everything, i did everything, i want her to win, not because i don’t i want to. “the little one won, just not because she deserved it, she suffered so much, and what’s more, until that minute i couldn’t say who i loved more, who i liked better, the round was phenomenal, i felt it too and saw it in 30 seconds even before the end, what is she most likely to win, what colossal reserve should she have? technical, physical, to perform this, bravo, bravo, bravo

, real, well done, but she still visited me, this is also necessary for you... tell me how it was, well, it was quite emotional, i generally believe that emotions are the main component of sports reporting, because sport , first of all, is why it is beautiful, it is beautiful

because we empathize with someone, show emotions accordingly, and if we are absolutely impartial, we will , well, like robots , then artificial intelligence will help us, we can single out one of the athletes even involuntarily, look, you periodically... talk about how you like st. petersburg there, and then you confess your love elizaveti toktamysheva, is this not professional, or is it emotional? i think that this is just my style, and i never hide my passions. in my opinion, this is completely normal, i can always confess my love to those athletes who inspire me, because athletes inspire us, however, we don’t just sit and watch some boring competitions, we draw inspiration from them , what are they doing on... if the conditional kamilla valieva comes out and i feel some kind of trepidation, these are those the emotions you are talking about, if i see liza tuktamysha, whom i have known since childhood, who grew up before my eyes and

still skates, then for me this is also a kind of inspiration, so here it seems to me that delight is simply not like inspiration about lisa, i’m delighted, it’s hard for me to comment on couples, for example, yes, i can do this, but on the contrary, it should be easy for you. any support, tatyana anatolyevna, but how do you see mistakes, and how not to say about it, so that the audience, first of all, so that the viewer, the fan, of a specific athlete.