Creativity Agashina Margarita Konstantinovna. Always - meeting, seeing off. I'll go out to the river, crunch with a thin branch

Margarita Agashina was born in the village of Bor, Yaroslavl region. The childhood of the poetess was spent at the Strelka trading post in the north of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. The poet's father was a doctor by profession. By the nature of his activity, he had to roam the taiga along with Evenk hunters. Margarita's mother taught Evenki children at school.

In the early 1930s, the Agashins family moved to the city of Teikovo. Ivanovo region. Margarita went to study in high school No. 4, where she taught German her mother is Elizaveta Ivanovna. (A memorial plaque is now installed on the school building).

After leaving school, Margarita Agashina entered the Moscow Institute of Non-Ferrous Metals and Gold, but, without completing her second year, she left for the Literary Institute. Gorky. She studied at seminars with Vera Zvyagintseva,. She graduated from the Literary Institute in 1950.

Since 1951, after graduating from the institute, Margarita Agashina lived in Volgograd. Here she lived until the end of her life, devoting the main part of her work to the city on the Volga, which became truly native to her.

In 1952 for the poem "My Word" Margarita Agashina was admitted to the Union of Writers. Real fame came to Margarita Agashina after Lyudmila Zykina performed a song based on her poems.

In 1993 Margarita Konstantinovna Agashina "for outstanding services in the field of literature, a significant creative contribution, recognized by the people of Volgograd and all of Russia" by the decision of the Volgograd City Council people's deputies was awarded the title "Honorary Citizen of the Hero City of Volgograd".

Margarita Agashina She died in 1999 at the age of 75.

She has been published as a poet since 1949.

The main part of the poetess's work is devoted to Volgograd, its glorious history.

In total, the poetess published 36 collections of poems in the publishing houses of Moscow and Volgograd. Many poems were set to music and became famous songs.

The name of Margarita Agashina in poetry is traditionally called quiet. The way it is. All over Russia they sing “What was, it was”, “Where can I get such a song ...”, “Give me a handkerchief”, “Birch is growing in Volgograd” and often they don’t know that the composer Grigory Ponomarenko wrote these beautiful songs on her poetry. There is no higher reward for a poet! The quiet voice of Agashina, however, is well known to lovers of poetry. She is the author of more than twenty poetry collections, and whether she writes about the military fate of her generation or about the difficult fate of women, her strict, restrained lyrics invariably find their way to the reader's hearts.

A series: folk poetry

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The following excerpt from the book Woman's share (compilation) (Margarita Agashina, 2014) provided by our book partner - the company LitRes.

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

Margarita Agashina - about herself

I was born on February 29, 1924 in Yaroslavl. We, on the left bank of the Volga, did not have tall city buildings. Wooden houses with front gardens, with benches at the gates, yards overgrown with thick ants - expanse for children. My father was still studying at medical institute in Leningrad. Mom worked, every morning she left for the Volga on a small steamboat "Bee".

I remember the first song I heard: I didn’t fall asleep without songs for up to three years, and now my grandmother, who had no ear for music, rocked me with a single song:

I brought all the handkerchiefs,

one shawl remained.

Loved all the good ones

one piece left.

Mom was just as deaf, but she taught me and my sister an adult song:

The sun descends over the steppes,

feather grass is golden in the distance…

I remember the first verses over which I cried bitterly - "Orina, mother of a soldier." I couldn't read yet, I just listened. And so my mother reached the lines:

Few words, but grief river,

bottomless river of grief ...

And then every time I burst into tears. Nekrasov was read a lot at home. Everyone loved him and was even quietly proud that we, like him, were from Yaroslavl: we came from there, from Nekrasov places, our father's village of Bor - next to Greshnev. We have always talked about Nekrasov and his poems with delight and tenderness. I am grateful for this to my family and destiny. Because I am sure: if in childhood I had fallen in love with another poet just as much, then I would have written completely different poems. Or maybe I didn't write at all...

Both of my semi-literate grandfathers did not write poetry, but they were, in my opinion, poets. Maternal grandfather - Ivan Bolshakov, by the village nickname Vanka Moroz, was a cheerful, dashing guy. After serving in the tsarist army, he returned to his native place only to get married, and immediately left for Moscow. Grandmother, by the way, used to say, remembering: “I didn’t marry Vanka Moroz, but Moscow.” Grandfather served as a janitor, messenger, conductor on railway. One day, having received new form, on the inside of the cap, he wrote: "Do not touch, fool - not your cap!" The paternal grandfather, Stepan Agashin, drove a horseshoe into the pine doorstep of his house - he probably believed that it would bring happiness to his children. There were eight children, and all of them had one felt boots.

I think: it was from that mischievous cap and from this sad horseshoe that my fate began.

Grandfather Ivan at one time, by hook or by crook, managed to ensure that his daughter - my mother - graduated from the gymnasium for free and became a teacher. Father, a doctor, received higher education one of all his sisters and brothers and, of course, under Soviet power. He went through four wars in his life: as an ordinary soldier - Civil, was wounded in the 19th year in the town of Rotten Bridge near Vitebsk, then, already a military surgeon, Finnish and Patriotic - from July 41 until the end of the war with Japan.

I had a free childhood, even though I was born in the city. Every summer we went to Bor. And how all this is remembered! The marinas smelled of vobla and matting, they bought strawberries for us at Babayki - from it the white milk in the plate turned either blue or pink. The steamboat slapped its wheels; near the shores, knee-deep in water, stood cows - white muzzles, black glasses. And there is the Red Profintern, four versts to Bor. Father's house, a garden, a black bathhouse, behind the garden a meadow - chamomile, Ivan-da-Marya, bluebells, and along the meadow - the river Eshka, one and a half meters wide ...

Then we moved to the Middle Volga, to the current Penza region. And again, beauty is nearby: meadows of forget-me-nots, oak forests and aspen forests full of mushrooms, thickets of ferns, and in them, under each lacy leaf, strawberries - not a berry or two, but you’ll pick up a handful at once.

Then we lived far away in Siberia, in the taiga, in the center of the Evenk national district, at the Strelka Chuni trading post. Father spent winter and summer roaming the taiga with hunters and reindeer herders. Mom taught Evenk children in the first, just opened, school. Above the entrance to the school - where the usual "Welcome!" is now - there was a poster: "Fish, furs, finances, educational program - these are the four combat missions of the second quarter." I remember our roads - in winter, on reindeer through the whole taiga, from Strelka to Tura. We went weeks. They brought bags of frozen dumplings. We spent the night in a tent.

In those childhood years, I saw a lot of beauty - both Central Russian and northern, taiga. And the people nearby were wonderful - simple, kind, faithful. I know for sure: there, in the North, for the first time I was happy because everyone was together. I still remember all this.

But somehow fate proceeded in such a way and character developed that not all this different, happy, generous beauty and not even exoticism pushed me to the first verses.

I wrote the first verses, serious in feeling, when my father returned from Finnish war. The poems were about it. They were published in the regional pioneer newspaper and they even sent me some kind of letter for them. This happened already in the small town of Teikov, Ivanovo region, where I graduated from high school and where our family was caught by the Great Patriotic War ...

At first we saw off my father and teachers to the front. Then the high school kids. I graduated from the courses of nurses and worked in a hospital. I studied in the ninth grade in the third, evening, shift. In Teykovo and the surrounding forests and villages, then, as elsewhere, military units were stationed. Pilots and paratroopers lived in every Teikovsky house. And, of course, each Teykov girl had her own paratrooper. They came to us for school evenings, and we - to them in the dugouts, in the suburban forest, with amateur concerts. And I read my poems:

When the pilot's hand squeezes the helm,

enveloping the field in blue haze,

you will be carried away by steel planes

on a long journey, in a harsh difficult battle ...

It is better to remain silent about the poetic merits of poetry. But in my later life I had a chance to perform, perhaps, more than necessary. And no audience has ever received me so warmly.

By this time, I already knew that there was a Literary Institute in Moscow, and, of course, I dreamed of studying there. But there was a war, and only technical universities gave a call to Moscow. I didn't care what technical one, and I just chose an institute with beautiful name: Institute of non-ferrous metals and gold. I studied at the Mining Faculty for two years, handed over, with sin in half, all sorts of technical difficulties, such as strength of materials and theoretical mechanics, but in the spring of 45, without completing my second year, I left for the Gorky Literary Institute.

There were twelve of us on the course, and only one was a prose writer - the rest wrote poetry! First, I got into Vera Zvyagintseva's seminar. There was such a "girlish" seminar, which somehow quietly, by itself, fell apart. I was called to the creative department and offered - to choose from - two seminars: Mikhail Svetlov and Vladimir Lugovsky. Of course, I knew Svetlov - "Grenada", "Rabfakovka", "Twenty years later" ... I was scared. My God, am I to Svetlov? .. And I didn’t say, but exhaled:

- It's better to Lugovskoy!

As if it was smaller, simpler than Svetlov. But then I simply did not know any poems, or even the name of Lugovskoy.

Vladimir Alexandrovich Lugovskoy - it was what my character, my eternal shyness, needed. At his noisy seminars, where benevolent but ruthless fellow writers smashed each other without choosing expressions, the authors of “quiet” verses especially got it. And only Tanechka Syryshcheva was quieter than me. Vladimir Alexandrovich himself read our quiet poems, read them out loud. And he emphasized with his voice what deserved it.

Many times later, after graduation, I met him at the Central House of Writers, in publishing houses. Every time she froze, like at seminars. And she never once said how grateful I was to him then.

And is it only him?.. In those happy times we were taught by Pavel Antokolsky, Konstantin Paustovsky, Mikhail Svetlov, Alexander Yashin, Konstantin Fedin, Lev Kassil. We were taught by the best professors of Moscow University. Of course it was a blessing! And the only thing I regret all my life is that I missed most of this happiness: I was never a diligent student.

But hostel! This post-war cold, hungry semi-basement of the famous house of Herzen, where around the clock, on weekdays and on holidays - on the windowsills, in the corners, on the stairs, at the tables - loudly and with inspiration, without doubting their God's gift, young enthusiastic personalities read, howling, his poems - it was another institute! Voluntary listeners immediately smashed the newly born masterpiece, and you walked away, killed, thinking about what was wrong with you and what should you do next. Yes, it was a great school. And it wasn't easy to get through...

The first kind word from the institute guys - such a long-awaited and strict - I heard in the fall of 1947 at our traditional evening of one poem. I was reading "Bread of the 47th" then. Of course, the unique praise given by Mikhail Arkadyevich to two of my poems a few years later is also memorable in Svetlovsky's way:

- Always write "Varya" and "Yurka"! And I will love you dearly and give you a coat ...

In 1950 I graduated from the institute. My thesis work - the poem "My Word" - received an excellent mark. It was published in the October magazine in 1951. Then she was transferred to Bulgaria, and then to Korea. For this poem in 1952 I was admitted to the Writers' Union. And I still receive kind letters from readers about this, in fact, my first job and success.

The first book - a collection of poems "My Word" - was published in 1953 by the publishing house "Young Guard". Then - "Indian Summer" (1956), "Forty Herbs" (1959), "Poems about my soldier" (1963), "Bachelorette Party" (1972), "Song" (1974), "Handkerchief" (1975), " In each song there is a birch ... "(1984) and others in different years, in the publishing houses of Moscow and Volgograd.

Since 1951 I have been living in Volgograd. His fate, his people, his mothers and widows, his construction sites, roads, his vast, difficult fields - all this taught me and teaches me to live, to be where everyone is, to grieve and rejoice with everyone, not to feel sorry for myself, to remain myself . I thank fate for all the years lived in this city, dear and beloved. For all the meetings that fell to me. For all the kind words spoken to me by my countrymen.

... If I lived in another city, I would write completely different poems. Or maybe she didn't write at all.

“I will cry to my fill with lies,
But I'll still get to the truth!
M.K. Agashina

M. K. Agashina was born on March 1 (February 29) in 1924 in Yaroslavl. She spent her childhood in her father's village of Bor. Then the family moved to the Middle Volga, then to Siberia.
M. Agashina wrote her first, serious-feeling poems when her father returned from the Finnish War (1940). The poems were about it. They were published in the regional pioneer newspaper. During the Great Patriotic War, Margarita Konstantinovna graduated from the courses of nurses and worked in a hospital. I studied in the ninth grade in the third, evening shift. After graduation, she entered the Moscow Institute of Non-Ferrous Metals and Gold. But, without finishing her second year, she went to the Literary Institute. Gorky.
Graduate work M. Agashina - the poem "My Word" - received an excellent rating. It was published in the October magazine in 1951. The poem is a conversation with the wife of an American pilot whose plane flew over the Soviet city of Libava in April 1950. Her pathos - a reverent defense of the world in the name of children, in the name of silence on the planet - has not lost its relevance in our days. For this poem in 1952, the poetess was admitted to the Writers' Union.
Since 1951, M.K. Agashina lives in Volgograd. Love for the city on the Volga was reflected in the work of the poetess.

... The night is getting quieter and quieter, even the wind is silent.
Don't you hear - the Volga's heart is beating!
I don't need anything - just a song about her!
And the lights of Volgograd are more visible, more familiar ...
("Evening")

Her books are published by publishing houses in Moscow and Volgograd. Popular love and recognition were received by poems - songs by M. Agashina, set to music and familiar to all Volgograd residents, and not only to them. Among them are “A birch is growing in Volgograd”, “Where can I get such a song”, “What happened, it happened”, “Give me a handkerchief”.
The work of Margarita Konstantinovna Agashina has been marked by numerous literary awards: she is the first laureate of the Stalingrad Prize (1996), a laureate of the Union of Writers of Russia, and was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labor (1971).
In August 1999 M.K. Agashina was gone.

We were orphaned overnight...
August withers, the white light fades ...
Women mourning bad weather
Babi's share, with us no more!
God will not betray, the neighbor will not condemn,
And the soul knows in advance
That her birch will not forget,
The Volga will sing her songs.
And over her young grave
I will hear in a sensitive height,
As about what was and did not float away,
Still she will cry for me.
V. Makeev

Books by M.K. Agashina:

1. In each song - a birch ...: Poems. - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1984. - 127 p., ill.
2. Bachelorette party: Poems and a poem. - M.: Sovremennik, 1983. - 144 p., ill.
3. Children of Volgograd: Poems and a story. - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1980. - 207 p., ill.
4. Favorites: Poems. Songs. Poems. - M.: Artist. lit., 1986. - 285 p.
5. Not just a woman lives. [Poetry]. - M: Owls. Russia, 1968. - 135 p.
6. Fire. (A little story about big dream, about inactive boys and faithful girls of the 6th grade "A"). - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1967. - 98 p.: ill.
7. Song. Poetry. - M.: Sov. Russia, 1974. - 176 p.: ill.
8. Scarf. Poetry. - M.: Sovremennik, 1975. - 195 p.: ill., portr.
9. A birch grows in Volgograd. [Poetry]. - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1968. - 94 p. : ill.
10. Composition: in 3 books. - Volgograd: Publisher, 2010
11. Poems. - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1976. - 159 p.: ill.
12. Poems. - Volgograd: Station, 1993. - 158 p. - (B-ka Volgograd poetry).
13. Ponomarenko G.F., Agashina M.K. What was, was: Songs. - Volgograd: Nizhn.-Volzh. book. publishing house, 1985. - 96 p.
14. What was, was ...: Poems, letters, memoirs. - Volgograd: Publisher, 2000. - 288 p.

Literature about the life and work of M.K. Agashina:

1. The first winner of the Stalingrad Prize: [M. Agashina is the first laureate of the award established by the Writers' Union of Russia jointly with the Volgograd administration] // Vech. Volgograd. - 1996. - 6 Feb.
The same: // Volg.pravda. - 1996. - 7 Feb.
2. Agashina M.: [About me] // Agashina M.K. Poems. - Volgograd, 1993. - S. 3-8.
3. Agashina, E. Only you are the best in the world!: [Daughter about her mother - the poetess M. Agashina] / E. Agashina // Woman's World. - 1994. - No. 2. - S. 2.
4. Andrianova, G. Margarita Agashina / G. Andrianova // Volg. Truth. - 2003. - No. 5 (Aug.). - S. 6.
5. Biryukova, I. Fidelity: [About M. K. Agashina] / I. Biryukova // Volg. Truth. - 1997. - May 30-31. - p.7.
6. Grechukhina, Yu. She paid for every line with her female fate: [About M.K. Agashina] / Yu. Grechukhina // Volg. Truth. - 2014. - 28 Feb. - S. 7.
7. Danilova, T. She asked to give a scarf, but gave herself away with a song: [Margarita Agashina - 70 years old] / T. Danilova // Mig. - 1994. - March 4. - S. 2.
8. Dmitrieva, E. New birch Agashina: [the square named after M.K. Agashina opened] / E. Dmitrieva // Volg. Truth. - 2013. - 23 Nov. - C.2.
9. Erokhina, N. Daisies - Margarita: [In memory of the poetess M. Agashina] / N. Erokhina // City. lead. - 2002. - July 25. - S. 5.
10. Erokhina, N. You were also born in Russia: [About M. Agashina] / N. Erokhina // Facets of Culture. - 2014. - No. 5. - S. 23.
11. Melnikova, T. “For the sake of this it was worth being born”: [About M. Agashina] / T. Melnikova // Vech. Volg. -2003. - 8 Aug. - p. 19
12. [About M. K. Agashina (1924-1999)] // Volg. Truth. - 2009. - No. 14 (Aug.). - S. 7.
13. Romashkov, A. Roads of Margarita Agashina / A. Romashkov // Nov. gas. - 1994. - March 4.
14. Smirnov, V. “But I try to live simpler and more honestly ...”: A literary portrait of M. K. Agashina / V. Smirnov // Smirnov, V. Time will judge / V. Smirnov. - Volgograd, 2001. - S. 178-191.
15. Smirnov, V. "Truthfulness of genius is akin to ...": [On the poetry of M. K. Agashina] / V. Smirnov // Nov. gas. - 1993. - 24 Dec. - C.5.
16. Margarita Konstantinovna Agashina: Bibliography. pointer. - Volgograd: Vogogr.reg. scientific universal b-ka them. Gorky, 1989. - 70 p.
15. Shamaev, I. Green corner poet: [the square named after M.K. Agashina opened] / I. Shamaev // Gor. lead. - 2013. - 23 Nov. - S. 5.

Margarita Konstantinovna Agashina (February 29, 1924, Yaroslavl - August 4, 1999, Volgograd) is a famous Russian poetess.

Margarita Agashina was born in the village of Bor, Yaroslavl Region. The childhood of the poetess was spent at the Strelka trading post in the north of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. The father of the poetess was a doctor by profession, by the nature of his activity he had to roam the taiga along with Evenk hunters. Margarita's mother taught Evenki children at school.

In the early 1930s, the Agashins family moved to the city of Teikovo, Ivanovo region. Margarita went to study at secondary school No. 4, where her mother, Elizaveta Ivanovna, taught German. She graduated from school in 1942 (a memorial plaque is now installed on the school building).

After leaving school, she entered the Moscow Institute of Non-Ferrous Metals and Gold, but, without completing her second year, she left for the Literary Institute. Gorky. Studied at seminars with V. Zvyagintseva, V. Lugovsky.

After graduating from the Literary Institute since 1951 she lived in Volgograd. Here she lived until the end of her life, devoting the main part of her work to the city on the Volga, which became truly native to her.

In 1952, for the poem "My Word" she was admitted to the Writers' Union. Real fame came to Margarita Agashina after Lyudmila Zykina performed a song based on her poems.

She was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labor. Honorary citizen of the city of the hero-Volgograd.

M. Agashina is the first laureate of the All-Russian Literary Prize "Stalingrad", established by the Writers' Union of Russia, the Volgograd Regional Administration and the Volgograd Writers' Organization (1996).

Margarita Agashina died in 1999 at the age of 75. She was buried at the Central (Dimitrievsky) cemetery in Volgograd.

She has been published as a poet since 1949. The main part of the poetess's work is devoted to Volgograd, its glorious history. In total, the poetess published 37 collections of poems in the publishing houses of Moscow and Volgograd. Many poems were set to music and became famous songs.

Margarita Agashina - about herself

I was born on February 29, 1924 in Yaroslavl. We, on the left bank of the Volga, did not have tall city buildings. Wooden houses with front gardens, with benches at the gates, yards overgrown with thick ants - expanse for children. My father was then still studying at the medical institute in Leningrad. Mom worked, every morning she left for the Volga on a small steamboat "Bee".

I remember the first song I heard: I didn’t fall asleep without songs for up to three years, and now my grandmother, who had no ear for music, rocked me with a single song:

She brought all the handkerchiefs, One shawl remained. Loved all the good ones, One trash remained.

Mom was just as deaf, but she taught me and my sister an adult song:

The sun is descending over the steppes, In the distance the feather grass is golden…

I remember the first verses over which I wept bitterly, "Orina, a soldier's mother". I couldn't read yet, I just listened. And so my mother reached the lines:

Few words, but the grief of the river, The grief of the bottomless river ...

And then every time I burst into tears. Nekrasov read a lot at home. Everyone loved him and was even quietly proud that we, like him, were from Yaroslavl: we came from there, from Nekrasov places, our father's village Bor - next to Greshnev. ABOUT Nekrasov and his poems have always been spoken of with delight, tenderness. I am grateful for this to my family and destiny. Because I am sure: if in childhood I had fallen in love with another poet just as much, then I would have written completely different poems. Or maybe I didn't write at all...

Both of my semi-literate grandfathers did not write poetry, but they were, in my opinion, poets. Maternal grandfather - Ivan Bolshakov, by the village nickname Vanka Moroz, was a cheerful, dashing guy. After serving in the tsarist army, he returned to his native place only to get married, and immediately left for Moscow. Grandmother, by the way, used to say, remembering: “I didn’t marry Vanka Moroz, but Moscow.” Grandfather served as a janitor, messenger, conductor on the railway. Once, having received a new form, on the inside of his cap, he wrote: “Don’t touch it, fool, it’s not your cap!” Paternal grandfather - Stepan Agashin - drove a horseshoe into the pine threshold of his house - he probably believed that it would bring happiness to his children. There were eight children, and all of them had one felt boots.

I think: it was from that mischievous cap and from this sad horseshoe that my fate began. Grandfather Ivan at one time, by hook or by crook, managed to ensure that his daughter - my mother - graduated from the gymnasium for free and became a teacher. The father, a doctor, received a higher education, one of all his sisters and brothers, and, of course, under the Soviet regime. He went through four wars in his life: an ordinary soldier - a civil one, was wounded in the 19th year in the town of Rotten Bridge near Vitebsk, then, already a military surgeon, Finnish and Patriotic - from July 41st to the end of the war with Japan.

I had a free childhood, even though I was born in the city. Every summer we went to Bor. And how all this is remembered! The marinas smelled of vobla and matting, they bought strawberries for us at Babayki - from it the white milk in the plate turned either blue or pink. The steamboat slapped its wheels; off the coast, knee-deep in water, stood cows - white muzzles, black glasses. And there is the Red Profintern, four versts to Bor. Father's house, a garden, a black bathhouse, behind the garden there is a meadow - chamomile, Ivan-da-Marya, bluebells, and along the meadow - the river Eshka, one and a half meters wide ...

Then we lived far away in Siberia, in the taiga, in the center of the Evenk national district, at the Strelka Chuni trading post. Father spent winter and summer roaming the taiga with hunters and reindeer herders. Mom taught Evenk children in the first, just opened, school. Above the entrance to the school - where now the usual "Welcome!" - hung a poster: "Fish, furs, finances, educational program - these are the four combat missions of the second quarter." I remember our roads - in winter, on deer through the whole taiga, from Strelka to Tura. We went weeks. They brought bags of frozen dumplings. We spent the night in a tent.

But somehow fate proceeded in such a way and character developed that not all this different, happy, generous beauty and not even exoticism pushed me to the first verses.

I wrote the first, serious in feeling, poems when my father returned from the Finnish war. The poems were about it. They were published in the regional pioneer newspaper and they even sent me some kind of letter for them. This happened already in the small town of Teikov, Ivanovo region, where I graduated from high school, and where our family was caught by the Great Patriotic War ...

When the pilot's hand squeezes the helm, enveloping the field in a blue haze, you will be carried away by steel planes on a long journey, into a harsh difficult battle ...

It is better to remain silent about the poetic merits of poetry. But in my later life I had a chance to perform, perhaps, more than necessary. And no audience has ever received me so warmly. By this time, I already knew that there was a Literary Institute in Moscow, and, of course, I dreamed of studying there. But there was a war, and only technical universities gave a call to Moscow. It didn't matter to me what technical one, and I simply chose an institute with a beautiful name: the Institute of Non-Ferrous Metals and Gold. I studied at the Mining Faculty for two years, handed over with sin in half all sorts of technical difficulties, such as strength of materials and theoretical mechanics, but in the spring of 45, without completing my second year, I left for the Gorky Literary Institute.

There were twelve of us on the course, and only one was a prose writer - the rest wrote poetry! First, I got into Vera Zvyagintseva's seminar. There was such a "girlish" seminar, which somehow quietly, by itself, fell apart. I was called to the creative department and offered - to choose from - two seminars: Mikhail Svetlov And Vladimir Lugovsky. Svetlova Of course I knew "Grenada", "Rabfakovka", "Twenty years later"… I was scared. My God, I - to Svetlov? .. And I did not say, but exhaled:

It's better to Lugovskoy!

Like it was smaller, easier than Svetlov. But then I just didn’t know any poems, or even a name. Lugovsky.

Vladimir Alexandrovich Lugovskoy- it was what my character, my eternal shyness, needed. At his noisy seminars, where benevolent but ruthless fellow writers smashed each other without choosing expressions, the authors of “quiet” verses especially got it. And only Tanechka Syryshcheva was quieter than me. Vladimir Alexandrovich himself read our quiet poems, read them out loud. And he emphasized with his voice what deserved it.

Many times later, after graduation, I met him at the Central House of Writers, in publishing houses. Every time she froze, like at seminars. And she never once said how grateful I was to him then.

And is it only him? .. In those happy times, we were taught Pavel Antokolsky, Konstantin Paustovsky, Mikhail Svetlov, Alexander Yashin, Konstantin Fedin, Lev Kassil. We were taught by the best professors of Moscow University. Of course it was a blessing! And the only thing I regret all my life is that I missed most of this happiness: I was never a diligent student.

But hostel! This post-war cold, hungry semi-basement of the famous house of Herzen, where around the clock, on weekdays and on holidays - on the windowsills, in the corners, on the stairs, at the tables - loudly and with inspiration, without doubting their God's gift, young enthusiastic personalities read, howling, his poems - it was another institute! Volunteer listeners immediately smashed the newly born masterpiece, and you walked away, killed, thinking about what was wrong with you, and what should you do next. Yes, it was a great school. And it wasn't easy to get through...

The first kind word from the institute guys - such a long-awaited and strict - I heard in the fall of 1947 at our traditional evening of one poem. I read then. Of course, the unique praise given by Mikhail Arkadyevich to two of my poems a few years later is also memorable in Svetlovsky's way:

Always write and! And I will love you dearly and give you a coat ...

In 1950 I graduated from the institute. Thesis work - the poem "My Word" - received an excellent rating and in the 51st was published in the magazine "October". Then she was transferred to Bulgaria, and then to Korea. For this poem in 1952 I was admitted to the Writers' Union. And I still receive kind letters from readers about this, in fact, my first job and success.

... If I lived in another city, I would write completely different poems. Or maybe she didn't write at all.

Margarita Agashina. Favorites. M., Hood. lit., 1986

AGASHINA, Margarita Konstantinovna (b. 1.III.1924, the village of Bor, Yaroslavl region) - Russian Soviet poetess. In 1950 she graduated from the Literary Institute. M. Gorky. In 1949 she published her first poems, in 1951 - the poem "My Word" - a lyrical monologue of a mother condemning the war. In 1953, a collection of lyrical poems "My Word" was published, in 1956 - "Indian Summer", in 1959 - "Forty Herbs". Agashina also writes poems for children (“Alyonushka has things to do”, 1959, etc.).

Lit.: Aliger M., First Conversation, "Lit. newspaper”, 1952, January 5, No. 3; Ognev V., The sincere word of the poet, "Banner", 1952, No. 2; Kalitin N., Creativity of the Young, "October", 1955, No. 9.

Brief literary encyclopedia: In 9 t. - T. 1. - M .: Soviet Encyclopedia, 1962

The village of Bor, Yaroslavl province - August 4, Volgograd) - a famous Russian poetess, author of the text of many famous songs.

Biography

Childhood

Margarita Agashina was born in the village of Bor, Yaroslavl Oblast. The childhood of the poetess was spent at the Strelka trading post in the north of the Krasnoyarsk Territory. The father of the poetess was a doctor by profession, by the nature of his activity he had to roam the taiga along with Evenk hunters. Margarita's mother taught Evenki children at school. Subsequently, Margarita Agashina recalled her childhood like this:

People on the Strelka lived simply and amicably, worked hard, gathered all together on holidays May 1, November 7, on Red Army Day. Many years later. But I remember everything and know for sure that there, on Strelka, for the first time I was happy because everyone was together!

In the early 1930s, the Agashins family moved to the city of Teikovo, Ivanovo region. Margarita went to study at secondary school No. 4, in which her mother, Elizaveta Ivanovna, taught German. She graduated from school in 1942 (a memorial plaque is now installed on the school building).

University education

After graduating from school, Margarita Agashina entered, but, without completing her second year, she went to. Studied at seminars with Vera Zvyagintseva and Vladimir Lugovsky. She graduated from the Literary Institute in 1950 .

Volgograd

Margarita Agashina died in 1999 at the age of 75. She was buried at the Central (Dimitrievsky) cemetery of Volgograd next to Alexandra Cherkasova.

Creation

The main part of the poetess 's work is devoted to Volgograd and its glorious history . She once wrote:

I love you like human, my holiday - my city, Volgograd!

Collections

In total, the poetess published 37 collections of poems in the publishing houses of Moscow and Volgograd. Many poems were set to music and became famous songs.

All collections of Margarita Agashina in chronological order:

My word. - M.: Young Guard. - 1953.
Dream. Indian summer. - M.: Young Guard. - 1952. - No. 5.
Our Alyonushka. - Stalingrad: Prince. publishing house - 1953.
Poetry. - Literary Stalingrad. - 1954. - Prince. 8.
In a new house. - Change. - 1953. - No. 11.
Garden on Peace Street. - Literary newspaper. - 1954, June 1.
Interesting game. - Stalingrad: Prince. publishing house - 1955.
Varya. - October. - 1955. - No. 6.
Indian summer. - Stalingrad: Prince. publishing house - 1956.
Yurka. Actress. - Neva. - 1956. - No. 10.
Five-six. - Stalingrad: Prince. publishing house - 1957.
Forty herbs. - M.: Sov. writer. - 1959.
Alyonushka has business. - M.: Detgiz. - 1959.
I love you Korea! - Stalingrad: Prince. publishing house - 1961.
Poems about my soldier. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1963.
Song. - Volga. - 1966. - No. 6.
Fire. (A little story about a big dream...). - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1967.
Volzhanochka. - Volga. - 1967. - No. 12.
Not just a woman lives. - M.: Sov. Russia. - 1968.
A birch grows in Volgograd. Lyrics. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1968.
Poetry. - In the book: Day of the Volga Poetry. - Saratov: Volga Prince. publishing house - 1969.
Selected lyrics. - M.: Young Guard. - 1969.
Late August came without looking back. - In the book: Palms smelling of bread. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1971.
Hen-party. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1972.
Where were you before? - Our contemporary. - 1973. - No. 8.
Songs. - M.: Sov. Russia. - 1974.
New verses. - In the world of books. - 1974. - No. 3.
Handkerchief. - M.: Sovremennik. - 1975.
Poetry. - In the book: Russian Soviet poetry. - T. 2. - M. - 1977.
Bread of the Volga region. - Literary newspaper. - 1978. - No. 30.
Children of Volgograd. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1980.
Poems about my soldier. - In the book: Victory Road: Poems of Soviet poets about the Great Patriotic war. - M. - 1980.
Hen-party. - M.: Sovremennik. - 1983.
Birch in every song. - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1984.
What was, was ... - Volgograd: Lower Volga book. publishing house - 1985.
Favorites. - M.: Fiction. - 1986.
Poems. - Volgograd: Village. - 1993.

Songs on verses by Agashina

Where can I get such a song (Grigory Ponomarenko)
Woman's share (Grigory Ponomarenko)
Song about a soldier (Vladimir Migulya)
Song about my soldier (Evgeny Zharkovsky)
Give me a handkerchief (Grigory Ponomarenko)
Tell me, friend (Evgeny Ptichkin)
Volgograd tango (Mikhail Chuev)
What was, was (Grigory Ponomarenko)
A birch grows in Volgograd (Grigory Ponomarenko)

Social activity

Political activity

Deputy of the City Council of Workers' Deputies ( - ; -)
Deputy of the District Council of Working People's Deputies (-)
Deputy of the Regional Council of Workers' Deputies (-)

Awards

Honorary Diploma of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR (1974)
The first laureate of the All-Russian Literary Prize "Stalingrad", established by the Writers' Union of Russia, the Volgograd Regional Administration and the Volgograd Writers' Organization ()
Honorary citizen of Volgograd (October 19, 1993)

Family

Husband - poet Viktor Arkadyevich Urin. Children - Elena, Victor. Three grandchildren.

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Notes

Links

- Honorary citizen of Volgograd on the website of the City Administration



Before the Revolution



































Nikolai, without talking to the hunter, asked his sister and Petya to wait for him and went to the place where this hostile Ilaginsky hunt was. The victorious hunter rode into the crowd of hunters and there, surrounded by sympathetic curious, told his feat. The fact was that Ilagin, with whom the Rostovs were in a quarrel and trial, hunted in places that, according to custom, belonged to the Rostovs, and now, as if on purpose, he ordered to drive up to the island where the Rostovs hunted, and allowed his hunter to poison from under other people's hounds. Nikolai never saw Ilagin, but, as always, in his judgments and feelings, not knowing the middle ground, according to rumors about the riot and self-will of this landowner, he hated him with all his heart and considered him his worst enemy. Angered and agitated, he now rode towards him, tightly clutching the rapnik in his hand, in full readiness for the most decisive and dangerous actions against his enemy. As soon as he rode beyond the ledge of the forest, he saw a fat gentleman in a beaver cap on a beautiful black horse, accompanied by two stirrups, advancing towards him. Instead of an enemy, Nikolai found in Ilagina a representative, courteous gentleman, who especially wanted to get acquainted with the young count. Having approached Rostov, Ilagin raised his beaver cap and said that he was very sorry for what had happened; that orders to punish the hunter, who allowed himself to poison from under other people's dogs, asks the count to be acquainted and offers him his places for hunting. Natasha, who was afraid that her brother would do something terrible, rode not far behind him in excitement. Seeing that the enemies bowed friendly, she rode up to them. Ilagin raised his beaver cap even higher in front of Natasha and, smiling pleasantly, said that the countess represented Diana both in her passion for hunting and in her beauty, about which he had heard a lot. Ilagin, in order to make amends for his hunter, urged Rostov to go into his eel, which was a mile away, which he saved for himself and in which, according to him, hares were poured. Nikolai agreed, and the hunt, which had doubled in size, moved on. It was necessary to go through the fields to the Ilaginsky eel. The hunters leveled out. The gentlemen traveled together. Uncle, Rostov, Ilagin secretly glanced at other people's dogs, trying not to let others notice it, and anxiously looked for rivals among these dogs for their dogs. Rostov was especially struck by her beauty, a small purebred, narrow, but with steel muscles, a thin forceps (muzzle) and rolling black eyes, a red-spotted bitch in Ilagin's pack. He heard about the playfulness of the Ilaginsky dogs, and in this beautiful bitch he saw a rival to his Milka. In the middle of a sedate conversation about the harvest of this year, which Ilagin started, Nikolai pointed out to him his red-spotted bitch. - You have a good bitch! he said casually. - Rezva? - This? Yes, this one - kind dog, catches, ”Ilagin said in an indifferent voice about his red-footed Yerza, for whom a year ago he gave his neighbor three families of courtyards. - So you, Count, do not boast of being hammered? He continued the conversation. And considering it polite to repay the young count in the same way, Ilagin examined his dogs and chose Milka, who caught his eye with her width. - You have a good black-pie - okay! - he said. “Yes, nothing, he’s jumping,” answered Nikolai. “If only a hardened hare would run into the field, I would show you what kind of dog this is!” he thought, and turning to the stirrup said that he gives a ruble to someone who suspects, that is, finds a lying hare. “I don’t understand,” Ilagin continued, “how other hunters are envious of the beast and dogs. I'll tell you about myself, Count. It amuses me, you know, to take a ride; now you’ll move in with such a company ... what’s better already (he again took off his beaver cap in front of Natasha); and this is to count the skins, how many he brought - I don’t care! - Well, yes. - Or so that I would be offended that someone else's dog would catch, and not mine - I just would like to admire the persecution, right, count? Then I judge... - Atu - his, - a drawn-out cry of one of the stopped greyhounds was heard at that time. He stood on a semi-mound of stubble, raising a rapnik, and once again repeated drawlingly: - A - that - him! (This sound and the raised rapnik meant that he sees a hare lying in front of him.) “Ah, I suspect, I think,” Ilagin said casually. - Well, let's go, count! - Yes, you need to drive up ... yes - well, together? Nikolai answered, peering at Yerza and at the red Uncle Rugai, at his two rivals, with whom he had never yet managed to equalize his dogs. “Well, how will my Milka be cut off from my ears!” he thought, moving towards the hare next to his uncle and Ilagin. - Mother? Ilagin asked, moving towards the suspicious hunter, and not without excitement, looking around and whistling to Yerza... “And you, Mikhail Nikanorych?” he turned to his uncle. Uncle rode frowning. - Why should I meddle, because yours is a pure march! - in the village they paid for the dog, your thousandths. You measure yours, and I'll take a look! - Scold! On, on, he shouted. - Scold! he added, involuntarily expressing by this diminutive his tenderness and hope placed in this red dog. Natasha saw and felt the excitement hidden by these two old men and her brother, and she herself was worried. The hunter stood on a half-hill with a raised rapnik, the gentlemen drove up to him at a step; the hounds, walking on the very horizon, turned away from the hare; hunters, not gentlemen, also drove off. Everything moved slowly and sedately. - Where is the head? Nikolai asked, driving up a hundred paces to the suspicious hunter. But before the hunter had time to answer, the hare, sensing frost by tomorrow morning, could not lie down and jumped up. A flock of hounds on bows, with a roar, rushed downhill after a hare; from all sides, the greyhounds, who were not in packs, rushed to the hounds and to the hare. All those slow-moving hunters-snipers shouting: stop! knocking down dogs, greyhounds shouting: atu! guiding the dogs, they galloped across the field. Calm Ilagin, Nikolai, Natasha and uncle flew, not knowing how and where, seeing only dogs and a hare, and fearing only to lose sight of the persecution even for a moment. The hare was caught hardened and frisky. Jumping up, he did not immediately gallop, but moved his ears, listening to the scream and clatter that suddenly resounded from all sides. He jumped about ten times slowly, letting the dogs approach him, and finally, having chosen a direction and realizing the danger, he laid his ears and rushed at full speed. He was lying on the stubble, but in front there were greenery, on which it was marshy. The two dogs of the suspicious hunter, who were the closest of all, were the first to look and pawn behind the hare; but they had not yet moved far towards him, when the Ilaginskaya red-spotted Yerza flew out from behind them, approached the dog at a distance, with terrible speed gave, aiming at the tail of the hare and thinking that she had grabbed him, rolled head over heels. The hare arched its back and pushed even harder. A broad-assed, black-spotted Milka came out from behind Yerza and quickly began to sing to the hare. - Honey! mother! - Nikolai's triumphant cry was heard. It seemed that Milka would now hit and pick up the hare, but she caught up and swept past. Rusak retired. The beautiful Yerza settled down again and hung over the very tail of the hare, as if trying on how not to make a mistake now, to grab her back thigh. - Erzanka! sister! I heard Ilagin crying, not his own voice. Erza did not heed his pleas. At the very moment when it was necessary to wait for her to grab the hare, he swung and rolled out to the border between greenery and stubble. Again Yerza and Milka, like a drawbar pair, leveled off and began to sing to the hare; at the turn it was easier for the hare, the dogs did not approach him so quickly. - Scold! Scold! Pure business march! - shouted at this time a new voice, and Rugai, the uncle's red, hunchbacked male, stretching and arching his back, caught up with the first two dogs, moved out from behind them, gave a terrible self-sacrifice already above the hare, knocked him off the line into the green, another time he slammed even more viciously across the dirty greenery, sinking up to his knees, and it was only visible how he rolled head over heels, soiling his back in the mud, with a hare. The star of dogs surrounded him. A minute later everyone was standing near the crowded dogs. One happy uncle of tears and otpazanchil. Shaking the hare to make it bleed, he looked around anxiously, running around with his eyes, unable to find the position of his arms and legs, and spoke, not knowing himself with whom and what.

* * *

Margarita Agashina - about herself

Biography

Childhood

University education

Volgograd

Creation

Collections

Songs on verses by Agashina

Social activity

Political activity

Awards

Family

see also

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