MAKHTUMGULI FRAGI
Magtymguly Fragi
(1727 or 1733 - about 1783)
DINA NEMIROVSKAYA
MAKHTUMGULI FRAGI - TURKMENISTAN USTA
Several centuries separate us from the time when the great poet, the reformer of the Turkmen literary language Makhtumkuli lived and worked. He was born and raised on the banks of the Atrek River in the town of Khadzhi-Govshan. Magtymguly's father, Davlet-mamed Azadi, was a very educated person and paid great attention to the formation of the spiritual image of his son. Makhtumkuli graduated first from the mektebe in his native village, and then from the Shirgazi Khan madrasah in Khiva. He writes about the years of study in the madrasah in one of his poems: “You brought up, enlightened by you… / Wisdom of books was life-giving rain for me…”.
The great poet, thinker and educator Magtymguly Fragi, whose name is as dear to Turkmens as the name of Alexander Pushkin to Russians, came to Astrakhan more than once and lived for a long time in the village of Funtovo. Here Magtymguly wrote his poems, which the people learned by heart, passed from generation to generation. The first collection of his poems was published in Astrakhan in 1912.
In adulthood, the poet chose the pseudonym Fragi (separated). At the end of each poem, he placed this pseudonym, sometimes the real name, as if referring to himself. This was in the tradition of the poetry of his time.
He studied at the mektebe (village school), where his father taught. Makhtumkuli began to read Persian and Arabic as a child, which was greatly facilitated by the home library collected by his father. Also in childhood, Magtymguly joined the crafts - saddlery, blacksmithing and jewelry.
In 1753, Makhtumkuli studied for one year in the madrasah at the tomb of St. Idris Baba in Kizil-Ayak on the Amu Darya in the Bukhara Khanate.
In 1754, Magtymguly went to Bukhara, where he entered the famous Kokeltash madrasah, where he also studied for one year. There he befriended a Turkmen from Syria named Nuri-Kazym ibn Bahar, a highly educated man who bore the spiritual title of mawlana.
Together with Nuri-Kazym, Magtymguly set off to travel through the territories of present-day Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, crossed Afghanistan and reached northern India.
In 1757 both arrived in Khiva, a major center of education with many madrasahs. Here Magtymguly entered the madrasah built by Khan Shirgazi in 1713. People from families especially marked by the khan's mercy studied here. Here he completed the course of study begun in the two previous madrasahs.
In 1760 Magtymguly's father died, and the poet returned to his homeland. A girl named Mengli, whom he loved, was given in marriage to another man whose family was able to pay the required dowry. He carried his love for Mengli through his whole life - many poems are dedicated to her.
Another blow was the death of two older brothers who were members of the embassy to the powerful ruler Ahmed Shah - they were captured.
The longing for the brothers was reflected in many verses.
Returning home, Makhtumkuli got married. He was very fond of his two sons, Sarah and Ibrahim; but the boys died when one was twelve and the other seven.
After 1760 and until his death, Makhtumkuli traveled to the Mangyshlak peninsula, to Astrakhan, through the territory of present-day Azerbaijan and the countries of the Middle East.
Magtymguly Fragi significantly changed the Turkmen poetic language, bringing it closer to folk speech. He also abandoned the Arabic-Persian metric, traditional for Turkmen literature, and replaced it with a syllabic system.
A descendant of the poet from Iran was invited to the celebrations on the occasion of the opening of the monument to Magtymguly Fragi in Astrakhan. Now the monument is installed in the square opposite the Astrakhan state university. Its height is over six meters, four tons of bronze went into its casting. This is a gift from President of Turkmenistan Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedov for the 450th anniversary of Astrakhan.
Much about the life of the poet can be learned from his poems, there is no exact biography of Makhtumkuli. After graduating from the madrasah, Magtymguly returned to his native village and began teaching at the mekteb. The inextricable connection with the people, with their life was the fertile soil on which Magtymguly's poetry grew. He composes poems about his native nature, about the industrious Turkmen people. Magtymguly spent a lot of time on self-education, studying the history and art of the countries of the East. Having become a famous poet, he traveled extensively in Iran, Afghanistan and other countries of the East. The poetic heritage of Magtymguly consists mainly of songs written in ancient times. folk form. His songs reflect heroic themes, legends and legends of the Turkmen people. Of no small importance in his work is love lyrics (“Beloved”, “Two Moons”, “Come on a date”). In his youth, Makhtumkuli fell in love with the girl Mengli, but her relatives married her to another. The poet married a certain Ak-kyz, but family life did not bring him happiness.
The sons of the poet Sarah and Ibrahim died in early childhood. Sad lines began to appear in his poems. In the philosophical songs of Makhtumkuli, the theme of the frailty of the world, the brevity and inconstancy of human life sounds. The poet died in 1782 and was buried next to his father. Even today, the poetry of the folk poet amazes with its depth, lyricism, patriotism, it is close and understandable to us, living in the 21st century: “The mountain ranges of the earth will part. / Descendants will remember Makhtumkuli: / Truly, he became the mouth of Turkmenistan.”
FROM THE POETIC HERITAGE OF MAKHTUMGULY FRAGI
Not fit
(translated by Yu. Valich)
Khan's son from magnificent tents
It is not appropriate to invite to a barn for dinner.
The shepherd drives the cows into the field,
It was not fitting for him to equip the army.
Wise advice helps everywhere.
A worthy friend will help in trouble.
What will you answer at the Last Judgment?
It is not proper for the wise to ask about it.
The valiant before a thunderstorm does not tremble.
Not every dzhigit will become a hero.
Cancer kicks in. From crawling - not running.
Do not forget your own home.
Know that knowledge of wine is beneficial, -
To promise healing to the dead is ridiculous.
The crow has been given seven centuries to live.
Time to break the course is not appropriate.
Do not be afraid of thorny roads -
The doors will open to the heavenly chamber.
Rivers that merged into a single stream,
Dead deserts should not be irrigated.
Fraga's heart, you're on fire today:
Those who fell in battles appeared to me.
A bitter feast in a sad country
The song of hopes is not worth reciting.
Mountains in the fog
(translated by A. Tarkovsky)
The tops of the mountains in the milky fog,
They are not visible to us in winter.
It should not be about the husband you meet
Judging by one's appearance.
He left, the other sits down.
People mock the unworthy.
The fire of love will flare up -
One lurks, another shouts.
And in front of me in the open
The sea played with my hopes! ..
Dzhigit and in poverty and in grief
It follows a straight path.
But if rock sharpens your heart,
Lukman is bothering you in vain.
The moon wants to return in vain
Goods purchased by the Earth.
The violent clothes constrain.
The ignoramus is captivated by vices.
Hope lives on the cowardly
Behind a strong wall to hide.
I stand with bowed head
What has my tongue done to me?
But only a coward is not eager to fight,
To lie with the bones beyond the edge of the native.
And who will condemn Makhtumkuli
Because he won't forget
That he gave his word to the truth and will
To the grave, faithful to that oath.
(translated by A. Tarkovsky)
Like the flesh of the return of being,
Having tasted the dream of death, he wishes
Bloody mine
The soul desires other times.
Majnun, far from home,
In the remote corners of a foreign land,
To his laughing Layla,
Drunk with tears, desires.
Looking for Shirin, from city to city
The exhausted Farhad wanders;
Her life-giving rewards,
Already incinerated, desires.
Vamik, who finally got
To my Azra, to her palace,
Looking for freedom like a fugitive
He wants to dissolve the evil full.
Pretty Yusup, like a deity,
Not believing in your triumph,
Zuleikha looks at him,
He wants to hold back the moan of love.
Fragi is exhausted by the disease:
Uniter of Tribes
Blessed is he,
In love with Turkmenistan, wishes.
looking for salvation
(translated by A. Tarkovsky)
I am a slave of love, Gauquelin from Atrek,
I'm looking for an enchantress.
A teacher in the wilderness of the century,
I'm looking for a gift of peace.
severely banished by fate
From under the parental roof,
Deprived of the edge of the dear,
I'm looking for a holiday market.
Brother Abdullah - the apple of an eye -
Disappeared. Mammad Sapa is far away.
I am the patron of the prophet,
Swallowing tearful heat, looking.
And my heart flutters like a bird
And it's bitter for me, and my blood is turbid:
I don't know where I can hide
Where to run? I'm looking for Mazar.
I walked through the innocent meadows,
Sang to the skies, mountains, valleys,
And now in the snake's lair
I am looking for my sonorous dutar.
Makhtumkuli in the time of vengeance,
Like a chain, it drags out its torment.
Where are you, Turkmenistan? salvation
Having accepted the blow of fate, I am looking for.
(translated by A. Tarkovsky)
Strangers, look at me.
Who else like me languish?
Moths, lovers of fire,
Who among you does not strive for bliss?
Wind, wind, you're in foreign lands
He sang in his ears, raised the dust of the road ...
Is there a fair check in the world
Where is his happy capital?
Holy man, have you seen the mountain paradise,
You bless the land,
And Bai walks around the world.
Tell me where the poor can hide?
I made a pipe from a reed -
The usurer heard the debtor.
You are my birds! From a hawk
Can a tit hide?
Fish, you are both a boat and a rower,
The blue abyss is your palace.
Is there an island in the world where the fugitive
Could you not be afraid of eternal disasters?
The envious world, you are as old as time,
Taking away your blessed gift...
Is there such a market on earth
Where are the diamonds for a penny?
There is only one beauty in the world
Like a two-week moon;
Her mole is darkened, -
Who compares to my chosen one?
On earth my Mengli lived,
She burned my heart and left.
I have her arrow in my chest.
Where is she? Which star is the queen?
I miss my native land.
Have you walked with her in the mountains?
Let me know if it's still there
Is it raining, gray fog is swirling?
Years pass by.
New cities will emerge.
Who will tell me - will it be then
Do people pray according to the Quran?
A new moon is born
She didn't die forever.
Erected for the usurer,
Will there be a secure dungeon?
Makhtumkuli spoke little, -
Sadness was read in his eyes.
Swans of the fatherland,
Is it not bitter to part with you?
(translated by G. Shengeli)
Mountain peaks: fogs here and there;
The sea wind howls among the heights of Gurgen;
When the rain rushes by, they roar madly
Streams of muddy foamy waters of Gurgen.
The forests are dense - there are reeds along the banks;
Beauties in silver are replete with a living flower garden;
There is a gray sheep, a white horse, a black bull,
There is a buffalo and a tour: Gurgen's cattle are plentiful!
There are heavy rows of nerfs with mayas;
Merchants, drovers crowd near the water;
And layered ridges rise everywhere
Unshakable rocks - like a stronghold of Gurgen!
Dzhigits shawls rush around the camp to tighten
And with a hunting falcon they jump on a dangerous path.
And the doe exposes its chest to the wet wind;
The entire firmament of Gurgen is full of deer calls!
Makhtumkuli traveled through many different countries,
But in my heart I never felt so many wounds:
Here is the tender peri, oscillating like a gazelle,
He is looking for a ford among the wild waters of Gurgen!
I had to
(translated by T. Streshneva)
Love and the sea have no bottom
I had to burn in immeasurable passion.
Plays with the heart, like a chip wave,
I had to overcome the madness of the waves.
I was asleep. The moment of awakening was terrible.
Love is hard, I knew it from books.
But the depth of suffering did not comprehend,
For this, I had to endure the pain.
Love is like a sigh, like a flutter of a breeze,
Barely touching - again far away.
And everything is sharper, and all the brighter melancholy,
I had to grieve about the past happiness.
Like a small sun your pupil,
The fire of love burned me with fire,
I'm happy that I saved love
That I had to capture it.
You have been given an invaluable gift.
Be careful with a fragile vase, potter,
The rough bazaar reaches out to her.
You had to own the crown of love.
I drank the poisoned wine.
And only you can appreciate me
I built a fortress - the wall collapsed.
I had to get caught in my own network.
Makhtumkuli, by the will of the waves, swim,
There are no shores, sufferer, for love,
Don't call your friends for help
I had to die as a slave of love.
(translated by M. Tarlovsky)
I'm tearing my heart away - determination in abundance,
But there are no wings, and I don’t know how I will fly,
I can read all the books, all the scrolls,
But I don't know how much knowledge I'll get.
The sage will not say: everything in the world is clear to me,
We are not yet in a position to know much.
The drink of knowledge is tart and beautiful...
I reach out with my hand ... How I wet my mouth - I don’t know.
I'm locked up, who's to say what's outside.
I don't know which is better and which is worse.
And every day my horizons are narrower.
Where I'll get the right to go out, I don't know.
I will not make out - cold or fire?
The meaning is hidden in the heart, but behind seven locks.
Whom shall I guide on the path with my words?
Why I am dragging my lot, I do not know.
Makhtumkuli, the wind is greedy to nonsense.
Leave him all this mess!
In the abyss of secrets the boat of conjectures is cracking,
And why I turn her steering wheel - I don’t know!
Wanderer in love
(translated by A. Tarkovsky)
Salt of the desires of the people,
I loved the pain of dreams.
Moon rose in heaven
I loved the ocean.
Nightingale - and noise and quarrels
I fell in love in Gulistan;
A whirlwind of a heavy scythe,
As in a dope, I fell in love;
The steppe has bewitched me;
I loved the way of wandering.
A cruel lot drove me
Through rivers and valleys
flashed before me
Mountains of Mecca and Medina
I wandered in the gardens of Eden
I saw ghostly creeps,
And they filled me up
They brought trouble to the country.
What should I do? One hundred sorrows
I loved a hundred sufferings.
I am alone. In the desert sands
Lost my gaze. Oh, grief!
Why are you throwing arrows?
Your Farhad is wounded. Oh, grief!
You broke my heart.
In the veins - bile and poison. Oh, grief!
Blinded by hopes
They fly in the wind. Oh, grief!
So - sobbing - hot coal
I loved spells.
What is the sea in front of me?
What are wild cliffs?
burning body
Fire wasps sting.
Who are you: naked? eagle?
Silver-voiced nightingale?
For seventy thousand
Pitiful prisoners are ruined by scythes.
Cinnabar silk on thin
I fell in love with the slender frame.
Come! Do you not see
Like a slave in love languishes,
How it beckons me into captivity
Are your black braids a dungeon?
Is it in an evil time
Shouldn't I dream of happiness?
Poverty sank into my soul,
the body sharpens the flame:
From your unkind hand
I loved death in the lasso.
Sweetheart rejected me
Doesn't want bail
Take a half-dead heart
At the jailer-separation.
It's hard for me to wait
Startle at every sound
And break hands when meeting ...
Evil eyebrow cool bows
And evil eyelashes - hundreds
Arrows in a quiver - I fell in love.
So Magtymguly is in love
Became the prey of deceit.
They destroyed my state
Horses of enemy sultans.
There were a hundred capitals in the state,
There were thousands of ghosts...
I disappeared, killed by my dear,
Becoming ash, sinking into the ground,
Because it's too strong
I loved the purpose of my wanderings.
(A. Tarkovsky)
Enough, heart! Open your circle:
I suffer in it like a miserable prisoner in a pit.
Cruel, put me out of my misery
Don't let me, heart, burst into tears.
My age flew by like a single moment.
I saw the goal, but I did not reach the goal;
Was lonely - embarrassed and drooped,
Deceived by you and dreams.
And like a blind man bowing his head,
I supported my neighbor, I sing,
And I send groans to the zenith and pour tears,
A little white light will dawn over the steppes.
You are on the road waiting for me. After
With you we have an eternal dispute,
And it's hard for me: I'm drunk on your wine,
I'm lonely, you - every day - stubborn.
But maybe someone else is ready to understand
My trouble and the power of these words;
My voice will rumble through the hills.
The Lord is harsh, and his sword is over us.
I didn't save my mind or my eyes,
Desires could not be prevented,
And I cry in the networks of earthly roads,
And life flies like a bird beats its wings.
I run from oppression and burn in fire,
I rejoiced, serving your spring;
This world was a poor support for me,
I was left in the desert with the dead.
Closing my eyes, I made my way to Iran;
Drawn by fate, I ended up in Turan.
An eternal hurricane blows over the world,
Possessing insane hearts.
I was circled and driven by great fear,
I considered insignificant dust to be gold,
I saw oppression, I saw sorrow in houses,
Empty cases were my friends.
And I'm thirsty, and I'm waiting in vain for the rain,
And the moon burns, rising:
Years fly, leading days after days,
And I wander, possessed by dreams.
They give me blood and bile in return for drinking
and the burden of life is heavy for me.
I fell in love - and I became Majnun,
Leyli is entangled in beauty like chains.
You call, heart to Chin-Machin, to Herat,
To the underground hell where Sirat rises...
And the mole turns black and burns,
Eyes burning under round eyebrows.
In vain I was sincere;
Youthful ardor is extinguished by fate.
And yet I did not love evil -
The day of truth shines on me at night too.
But in the sea of justice my raft
Not moving. Year after year flies;
Like a dervish, Magtymguly's slave wanders
To a distant secret by narrow paths.
Makhtumkuli(Persian, Makhdumqoli Faraghi; Turkm. Magtymguly Pyragy - real name; "Frags"- pseudonym; 1724 - around 1807) - Turkmen poet, philosopher, classic of Turkmen literature. Son of the poet Azadi Dovletmamed.
Biography
Makhtumkuli was born in the village of Khadzhi Govshan in the valley of the Atrek River with the tributaries of the Sumbar and Chendyr in Turkmenistan, in the foothills of the Kopetdag, where the Turkmens of the Göklen tribe lived. The Makhtumkuli family belonged to the Kyshyk tribe of the Gerkez clan, an offshoot of the Goklen tribe, a settled agricultural tribe that was in vassal submission to the Persian rulers.
In adulthood, the poet chose the pseudonym Fragi (separated). At the end of each poem, he placed this pseudonym, sometimes the real name, as if referring to himself. This was in the tradition of the poetry of his time.
He studied at the mektebe (village school), where his father taught. Makhtumkuli began to read Persian and Arabic as a child, which was greatly facilitated by the home library collected by his father. Also in childhood, Magtymguly joined the crafts - saddlery, blacksmithing and jewelry.
In 1753, Makhtumkuli studied for one year in the madrasah at the tomb of St. Idris Baba in Kizil-Ayak on the Amu Darya in the Bukhara Khanate.
In 1754, Magtymguly went to Bukhara, where he entered the famous Kokeltash madrasah, where he also studied for one year. There he befriended a Turkmen from Syria named Nuri-Kazym ibn Bahar, a highly educated man who bore the spiritual title of mawlana.
Together with Nuri-Kazym, Magtymguly set off to travel through the territories of present-day Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, they crossed Afghanistan and reached northern India.
In 1757 both arrived in Khiva, a major center of education with many madrasahs. Here Magtymguly entered the madrasah built by Khan Shirgazi in 1713. People from families especially marked by the khan's mercy studied here. Here he completed the course of study begun in the two previous madrasahs.
In 1760 Magtymguly's father died, and the poet returned to his homeland. A girl named Mengli, whom he loved, was given in marriage to another man whose family was able to pay the required dowry. He carried his love for Mengli through his whole life - many poems are dedicated to her.
Another blow was the death of two older brothers who were members of the embassy to the powerful ruler Ahmed Shah - they were captured. The longing for the brothers was reflected in many verses.
Returning home, Makhtumkuli got married. He was very fond of his two sons, Sarah and Ibrahim; but the boys died when one was twelve and the other seven.
After 1760 and until his death, Makhtumkuli traveled to the Mangyshlak peninsula, to Astrakhan, through the territory of present-day Azerbaijan and the countries of the Middle East.
Magtymguly changed the Turkmen poetic language to a large extent, bringing it closer to folk speech. He also abandoned the Arabic-Persian metric, traditional for Turkmen literature, and replaced it with a syllabic system.
Memory
- Turkmenistan annually celebrates the Day of Revival, Unity and Poetry of Magtymguly Fragi on May 18, which is a day off.
- In 1959, a USSR postage stamp dedicated to Makhtumkuli was issued.
- In 1983, a USSR postage stamp dedicated to Makhtumkuli was issued.
- In 1991, a commemorative coin of the USSR dedicated to Makhtumkuli was issued.
- The Government of Turkmenistan annually awards an international award named after Magtymguly
monuments
Monuments to Magtymguly have been erected in different cities of the world. The largest number sculptures are located in the cities of Turkmenistan and the countries of the former USSR (Kyiv, Astrakhan, Khiva), as well as in Iran and Turkey.
In particular, a monument to the Turkmen poet Makhtumkuli made of concrete and natural stone was erected in the center of Ashgabat in 1971, in the Makhtumkuli square on Magtymguly Avenue (former Liberty Avenue), opposite the building of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Turkmenistan.
Toponymy
- Magtymguly etrap is an etrap in the Balkan velayat of Turkmenistan.
- Makhtumkuli - zones of the gas-oil field of Turkmenistan.
- The streets of Ashgabat, Astana, Karshi, Tashkent, Turkmenbashi, Urgench and a number of smaller cities in Turkmenistan and other countries of the former USSR are named after Makhtumkuli.
MAKHTUMCULI(lit. name Fragi; bl. 1733, aul Yuzvan Kala - 80s pp. XVIII century, Ak-Tokay) - Turkmen poet and thinker.
The only source of biographical information about Magtymguly's life is his own poems and folk legends. Reliable written materials have not been preserved due to wars, tribal strife and fires. Magtymguly was born c. 1733 in the village of Yuzvan Kala (now the village of Giorkez, Karakalinsky district) in the southwestern part of Turkmenistan. He was born in the family of the famous Shakhir poet Dovlet Mammad, the author of many ghazals, songs, poems that have survived to this day (for example, the great poem “Free Adoption”, signed by the pseudonym Vagiz Azadi). The beginning of Magtymguly's life falls on those times when the Iranian Shah Nadir (a Turkmen by birth) finished his campaigns of conquest, and the Turkmen tribes and clans, united in the struggle against the invader, again began to live in discord and civil strife. The poet received a good education, graduating from the Shirgazi madrasah in Khiva, continuing his studies at the Idris-Baba madrasah (in the village of Kyzyl-Yayak, now the Chardjou district) and at the Kokeltash madrasah in Bukhara. He traveled a lot, visited Iran, Afghanistan, Azerbaijan.
Returning to his homeland, the poet took up his small household, was a teacher, a master of jewelry - he learned this craft during his stay in Khiva. But his main occupation, of course, was poetry. Unfortunately, Makhtumkuli's manuscripts have not survived to this day, and literary critics and historians have to use the lists of his works, the lists are incomplete, distorted. This is what complicates the writing of a detailed biography of the poet. The circumstances and year of Magtymguly's death are also unclear. Folk memory places this date at the end of the 18th century.
However, the well-known grave where the great Turkmen poet is buried is in the town of Ak-Tokay in northern Khorasan. He is buried next to his father in the mausoleum that bears the name of Dovlet Mammad Azadi. This mausoleum has become a place of worship for all Turkmens.
Certain comments are needed on Magtymguly's poems, complex philosophical works written more than two centuries ago in a poetic language that is very different from today's not only vocabulary, but also the worldview itself, for which objectivable ideas about time were not characteristic. historicity, sequence of events. In the poetry of the East, the hierarchy of values was put in the first place, which led to didactics, and the ornamental style and symbolism of images were called upon to establish this hierarchy as a spiritual guide. The highest value was the purity of spiritual life and justice, in comparison with which luxury, power, carnal pleasures are nothing. A person must be elevated above everything transient, sinful, reminding her that she is a creation of Allah. And the poet in this regard, first of all, is an educator, a great moralist in the positive sense of the word. And it is not surprising, even in all the work of M. a moralizing tendency is very noticeable. The feudal man was completely subordinate to the universals of Islam, which formed his worldview. According to the earthly social system, which would be reflected in the spheres: ideal, where the human person found harmony as a kind of replenishment of his earthly: inferiority and humiliation of dignity, he also received a spiritual self before Allah in the other world:
The world is insidious. The days are flying.
Eternity - there, here - oblivion.
And life is wasted
Everyone is looking for something somewhere.
For a long time, life is like a moment,
We won't stop him.
The swan flies high
The blue lake is looking for.
Remember, Makhtumkuli,
That you are a guest on this earth.
Do not live in bondage -
Let the heart search for a dream.
(“Let him look for his homeland.” Per. P. Movchan
Magtymguly, like every poet of the East, constantly operates with five emotional and moral-ethical categories-states: joy, anger, desire, fear, grief. The sequence of these states is different, different load and different assessment that the poet gives them. Joy can be both positive and negative, it can (in the plot of the poem) be followed by grief or anger, and fear can cross out desire ..
But, regardless of the variations of these five emotions, they are the main, so to speak, actors in the poetry of the East in general and specifically in individual works of Magtymguly. It should also be taken into account that the poet relied not only on creative and stylistic canons, existing traditions of versification, but also on certain philosophical systems and Islamic doctrines that were created as a result of the synthesis of the main religions of the East: Judaism, Buddhism and Christianity.
It is known that Magtymguly was a Sufi. And Sufism adopted from Buddhism the doctrine of the three eras through which the “Law” or creeds pass. All three stages - from the first "True Law", when the teaching burns in the souls of believers, through the second, which is called the "Likeness of the Law", in which the teaching becomes orthodox, and up to the era of the "End of the Law", the end of everything true, were depicted in the work of Makhtumkuli. The poet went from an unshakable faith in the Truth ("Law") to the fight against the substitution of the law and the complete condemnation of the era of the "End of the Law": "I can't understand, is this really the end of the age?"
The formation of the philosophical views of Magtymguly was undoubtedly influenced by the theosophy of Sufism - a religious and mystical trend that arose on the threshold of the 9th century. Academician A. Krymsky noted that Sufiism was interesting in that it acted not as a religion, but as everyday asceticism, secular monasticism, monasticism without staying in a monastery, that is, as the most beneficial form of life for that time. Sufiism was severely persecuted, many of its followers were executed. Almost all the outstanding poets of the East, in particular Saadi, Jami, Sanai, Attar, Gafiz, Rumi, Nizami, Navoi, were associated with the ideas of Sufism and professed them. Since Sufism proceeds not from the idea of rational comprehension and mental comprehension of the absolute, but from ecstatic merging with it, the idea of love becomes the main symbol of Sufi poetry. That is why it is characterized by a metaphorical state of knowledge of the world and a person in it, that is why poetry is based on symbols, metaphors, allegories, revelations and intuition.
To substantiate their ideas, the poets, through infringement, were forced to resort to conditionally allegorical terminology of an erotic nature, which was a salvation for all freethinkers and atheists who preached views that were incompatible with the official morality of the theocratic system. In the symbolism of Sufiism, "beloved", "brother", "dear" mean "God"; "wine", "blossoming garden", "feast" - these are all mystical impulses of the soul to the Almighty; “date” is a merger with him. “The poet is lyrically bored, why is there such a cruel and cold heart in his dear sweetheart, why she does not pay attention to the one who sincerely loves her, but in fact,” writes A. Krymsky, “this ascetic ascetic groans, why is it taking so long does not find a mystical suggestion from God and ecstasy on him. The main setting of Sufiism was life for the sake of the future ideal life, because this physical world is only a mirage, an illusion, and everyone who has embarked on the path (tarikat) of Sufiism must pass under the guidance of a pir (murshid) three main stages on a long path, on which has seven stages-parks (maqam). And the passage through these stages-steps and stages is mandatory. Only those who managed to renounce their “I” and plunge into the ocean of the absolute will be able to reach the last stage (first annihilation in the absolute, then the property of Eternity by merging with the absolute and dissolving in it). In M.'s poetry, all these stages are clearly traced.
Magtymguly nowhere directly names the name of his spiritual mentor, although, according to ancient customs, it was considered a sin to embark on the path of dervishism without a teacher. In one of the poems (“The soul brought in a dream”) Makhtumkuli mentions the name of the founder of the dervish order B. Naqshbendi, who took as a basis the teaching of strict observance of the requirement of fakr (voluntary squalor).
Nakshbendi became a model for Magtymguly, a spiritual guide, because it was he who argued that the most important task of a person is to serve his neighbor; a person should live as if she is all alone with the whole world all the time. Solitude in public, wandering in the homeland, externally with people, internally with God - all these prescriptions were assimilated by Makhtumkuli and entered, one might say, into the flesh and blood of the poet.
He sought to comprehend the changing world both by thought and spiritual self-destruction. And sometimes the calm contemplation of Makhtumkuli explodes from the inside from the unsatisfied thirst for the ideal. The poet states the dramatic impossibility of comprehending being in harmony and integrity. There is a noticeable contrasting difference between theosophical postulates and purely human considerations and possibilities. The thirst for an ideal (“Give rain, rain, to my king”) is insatiable, and it is through this that the universalism of creative individuality is affirmed. The poet feels like a demiurge. Creative will liberates the soul, gives a feeling of fullness of life, fullness of freedom: Makhtumkuli managed to enrich his works with a wide variety of content, reproduce the most uniform phenomena of life, comprehensively illuminate it, saturate the pointless, it would seem, lyrics with an unlimited number of details. The form of his poems is perfect, their musicality is due to the wide use of uniform repetitions, in particular, the mastery of the redif, which is almost impossible to reproduce in translations, because according to the ancient rules of poetics, the redif should naturally arise from the entire line, and not be artificially grafted. Redif enhances the melody of the verse. This requires high skill, especially since quite often rima consisted of homonyms, words that had to have at least three distinct meanings. The poet filled the ancient classical forms with deep meaning. The life and meaning of a literary work for Magtymguly is not in the form, as most poets of the East believed, but in the depth of its content. Magtymguly used, like no other of his predecessors, the Virshian technique developed by Persian and Arabic literature for his native language, without abandoning folk forms as well, enriching Turkmen poetry not only with forms, but also with various Arabic and Persian concepts. He introduced into poetry a powerful stream of strong-willed, imperative principles, bringing poetry from contemplative alegorism to the level of violent personal passions. In this sense, his poetry is innovative, individual, because it comes from his own experience, from his poetic "I", which is certainly present in every poem, replaced by his own name and the worldly name of the Sufi - Fragi, which means: "sad", "divorced" , "eliminated". The subjectivity of opinions, the drama of personal fate permeate the works of M. and testify to the powerful individualization of the poet's consciousness. Magtymguly's poetics arose from the folkloric element, retaining both song freedom and rhythmic-intonational looseness, synthesizing into a single whole both immediate life impressions, folk symbolism, and book maxims. Makhtumkuli adopted from Bakhshi the simplicity of expression, song lightness, irony and sarcasm.
Here it is appropriate to compare the beginning of Makhtumkuli's creative path with the traditional manaschi and bakhshi. The performers of the heroic epic Manas, for example, unanimously assert that they chose their profession not of their own free will, but because Manas appeared to them in a dream and ordered them to sing of his exploits. Manaschi and bakhshi are obsessed with song, and echoes of the past are heard here, when the ancient ozan or bakhshi was not only a sleeper, but also a shaman, conjuring like the wise Kur-ugol-ata.
And here is how Makhtumkuli describes the beginning of his work in one of his poems: “At midnight, four horsemen appeared to me.” He says that prophets and saints appeared in a dream according to him, who blessed him, presented him with a drink in a bowl, thanks to which the poet began to penetrate into all the depths of the world. They thus gave him a creative gift, which allowed the poet to comprehend the essence of things and exhort people to the right path. Here the history of the manaschi is repeated, with the only difference that Makhtumkuli has a tangible Muslim coloring and is inspired not by legendary batyrs, but by Muslim saints.
Magtymguly is the heir to the literary and folklore traditions. Many of his poems are autobiographical in nature, although, due to the lack of information regarding the poet's life path, it is difficult to determine which motives and images are caused by real events of his life, and which are poetic fiction. It is also difficult to determine, knowing the organic connection between the poet's work and folklore, which proverbs and sayings are borrowed by him, and which ones. on the contrary, they entered the national treasury from the works of the poet. The peculiar manner of writing Magtymguly, prone to exaggeration, semantic paradoxes, when the poet easily jumps from a lyrical theme to a genre one or from sharp everyday, social pictures, moves to broad philosophical generalizations, drawing on the development of the theme, apply quotes from classical literature, from Turkmen history , from native songs, in contrast to their predecessors, who wrote the old bookish language (Turk), which was obscure to the people, resorting to archaic orthography, transcription, which was not characteristic of the living sound of the Turkmen language.
The great merit of Magtymguly is in the transformation of the poetic language, in the reformation of the written Turkmen language. Artistic speech of Magtymguly became a model and norm for Turkmen poets in creating a literary style, an effective tool in uniting the Turkmen tribes, in their struggle for unity and national independence.
The content of Magtymguly's poetry can only remain on the surface if you do not use the real key to his poetics, the poetics of constant double meaning, word play, the use of a conventional dictionary to express states of consciousness and cosmic phenomena. The state of love becomes like a material matrix, which gives rise to spiritual phenomena, the power of consciousness and the power of immortality. Here, not just love is a symbol of the spiritual, because in practice itself the first becomes the second, it is the desire of the human spirit to merge with the desired ideal. Love is of exceptional importance for Magtymguly as a necessary and unchanging prerequisite for the improvement of everything that exists, the improvement of the heart and the world. The poet strives for an ideal, and a high model: for him, fairy-tale heroes, and “bookish” caliphs, and great men of the world: Rustem, Iskander, Ali, Farhad, Nakshbendi, Chovdur Khan become human essence ...
A person for Makhtumkuli is a form capable of unlimited self-improvement, a form that can accommodate the fullness of the absolute content. Magtymguly, like many poets of the East, felt that in the depths of the world itself there is the truth of ideal aspiration, therefore the appearance of the beloved reflects the inner essence of absolute beauty. But this is not the truth of a frozen given, but the truth of the formation and development of the human spirit. And the poet finds ways to a perfect synthesis, to the image of his beloved Mengli, where the earthly and the heavenly are crossed, as in Dante's Beatrice. Therefore, there are no individual features in her image; everything is general, imaginary, stereotyped. There is no drawing, and instead there is a prayerful prediction of the ideal, the path to which lies through consistent self-improvement, through intermediate stages of purification and ascent of the soul, through love. The image of Mengli, like most of the key images in Magtymguly's poetry, is ambiguous; it will be comprehensible to us only under the premise of a complete reflection of inner beauty into outer beauty. External beauty is not a shell, but an inner harmony is brought out, which cannot be taken by force, which can only be achieved by love. Love is certainly accompanied by suffering, because it is in love that a person gets rid of his selfhood. Love has its own meaning in overcoming selfishness and recognizing not only for oneself, but for others, an absolute value. In love, a person becomes closer to the truth, to all others, in it the abyss between "I" and "you" is overcome. Magtymguly never reaches direct formulations of these postulates; they seem to be encrypted for the initiates, protected by poetic images from religious orthodoxy.
Some poems of Makhtumkuli were translated into Ukrainian by P. Tychyna, V. Sosiura, M. Rylsky, L. Pervomaisky, V. Bychko.
Literary name of Fragi (circa 1730-1780s), Turkmen Sufi poet (see Sufism). Son of the poet Azadi. He brought the language of poetry closer to the folk language. Poems about the suffering of a people devastated by a foreign invasion, with a call to unite the warring ... ... encyclopedic Dictionary
MAKHTUMCULI- (pseudo-Fraghi) (c. 173080s), Turkmen poet and thinker. Son of D. Azadi. More than 10 thousand lines of his poems have been preserved. poems, vol. 12, Ashkh., 1983 (in Turkmen language); Izbr., M., 1983; Poems, L., 1984. Makhtumkuli. ... ... Literary Encyclopedic Dictionary
MAKHTUMCULI- (nickname - Φragi) (born around 1730 - died in the 80s of the 18th century) - Turkmen. poet and thinker. Philos. M.'s views were formed under the influence of Nizami, Saadi, Navoi, Rudaki and Nesimi. Adherence to Islam was combined with M. with sharp criticism of obscurantism and ... ... Philosophical Encyclopedia
MAKHTUMCULI Modern Encyclopedia
MAKHTUMCULI- (literary name of Fragi) (c. 1730-80s) Turkmen Sufi poet (see Sufism). Son of the poet Azadi. He brought the language of poetry closer to the folk language. Lyrical poems about the suffering of the people devastated by foreign invasion; opposed the reactionary ... ... Big Encyclopedic Dictionary
Makhtumkuli- (literary name of Fragi) (circa 1730-1780s), Turkmen poet and thinker. Lyrical poems of various genres, among which stands out the tragic cycle about being in Iranian captivity and about the suffering of the people devastated by foreign invasion. ... ... Illustrated Encyclopedic Dictionary
Makhtumkuli- MAKHTUMKULI (lit. name of Fragi) (c. 173080s), Turkm. poet and thinker. Son of the poet Azadi. Lyric. poems of different genres; tragic stands out. cycle about staying in iran. captivity and the suffering of a people devastated by a foreign invasion; pl. poetry… … Biographical Dictionary
Makhtumkuli- (real name; pseudonym Fragi) (years of birth and death unknown), Turkmen poet of the 18th century. Son of the poet Azadi. He studied at the Shirgazi Madrasah in the city of Khiva. He knew well the literature and folklore of Central Asia, Azerbaijan, Iran; a lot of… … Great Soviet Encyclopedia
MAKHTUMCULI- (Fraghi) (born around 1730, died in the 80s of the 18th century) Turkm. poet and thinker. M.'s worldview was formed under the influence of Rudaki, Nizami, Firdowsi, Saadi, Navoi, and others. M.'s adherence to Islam was combined with sharp criticism of obscurantism and greed ... ... Soviet historical encyclopedia
MAKHTUMCULI- (c. 1733, the village of Haji Govshan, now the stop of Mazandaran, Iran, c. 1783, the village of Ak Tokay, in the same place), Turkm. poet and thinker, founder of the Turkmen. lit. language and written literature. Information about life is scarce. He studied at the Hala Cha Madrassah, Bukhara, Khiva. Lived ... ... Russian Pedagogical Encyclopedia
Books
- Makhtumkuli. Poems , Makhtumkuli , This edition of the works of the classic of Turkmen poetry of the XVIII century. Magtymguly aims to give as complete an idea as possible about the best examples of his work in different ... Category: Poetry Series: Poet's Library. Big Series Publisher: Soviet Writer. Leningrad branch, Buy for 560 rubles
- Makhtumkuli. Poems , Makhtumkuli , The book of the classic of Turkmen poetry of the XVIII century Makhtumkuli includes the best examples of Magtymguly's creativity, including civil and philosophical poems, satire, love ... Category: Poetry Publisher:
Audio: Mammad Huseynov - "Monologues of Magtymguly (Frags)", mono-opera for soprano, cello
On May 18-19, Turkmenistan annually celebrates the Day of Revival, Unity and Poetry of Makhtumkuli.
Several centuries separate us from the time when the great poet, the reformer of the Turkmen literary language Makhtumkuli lived and worked. He was born and raised on the banks of the Atrek River in the town of Khadzhi-Govshan. Magtymguly's father, Davlet-mamed Azadi, was a very educated person and paid great attention to the formation of the spiritual image of his son. Makhtumkuli graduated first from the mektebe in his native village, and then from the Shirgazi Khan madrasah in Khiva. About the years of teaching in the madrasah, he writes in one of the poems: “You brought up, enlightened by you ... / The wisdom of books was life-giving rain for me ...”.
Much about the life of the poet can be learned from his poems, there is no exact biography of Makhtumkuli. After graduating from the madrasah, Magtymguly returned to his native village and began teaching at the mekteb. The inextricable connection with the people, with their life was the fertile soil on which Magtymguly's poetry grew. He composes poems about his native nature, about the industrious Turkmen people. Magtymguly spent a lot of time on self-education, studying the history and art of the countries of the East. Having become a famous poet, he traveled extensively in Iran, Afghanistan and other countries of the East. The poetic heritage of Magtymguly consists mainly of songs written in the ancient folk form. His songs reflect heroic themes, legends and legends of the Turkmen people. Of no small importance in his work is love lyrics (“Beloved”, “Two Moons”, “Come on a date”). In his youth, Makhtumkuli fell in love with the girl Mengli, but her relatives married her to another. The poet married a certain Ak-kyz, but family life did not bring him happiness.
The sons of the poet Sarah and Ibrahim died in early childhood. Sad lines began to appear in his poems. In the philosophical songs of Makhtumkuli, the theme of the frailty of the world, the brevity and inconstancy of human life sounds. The poet died in 1782 and was buried next to his father. Even today, the poetry of the folk poet amazes with its depth, lyricism, patriotism, it is close and understandable to us, living in the 21st century: “The mountain ranges of the earth will part. / Descendants will remember Makhtumkuli: / Truly, he became the mouth of Turkmenistan.”
Not fit
Khan's son from magnificent tents
It is not appropriate to invite to a barn for dinner.
The shepherd drives the cows into the field,
It was not fitting for him to equip the army.
Wise advice helps everywhere.
A worthy friend will help in trouble.
What will you answer at the Last Judgment?
It is not proper for the wise to ask about it.
The valiant before a thunderstorm does not tremble.
Not every dzhigit will become a hero.
Cancer kicks in. He crawls - does not run.
Do not forget your own home.
Know - the knowledge of wine is beneficial, -
To promise healing to the dead is ridiculous.
The crow has been given seven centuries to live.
Time to break the course is not appropriate.
Do not be afraid of thorny roads -
The doors will open to the heavenly chamber.
Rivers that merged into a single stream,
Dead deserts should not be irrigated.
Fraga's heart, you're on fire today:
Those who fell in battles appeared to me.
A bitter feast in a sad country
The song of hopes is not worth reciting.
A worthy husband is not difficult to recognize -
He will come to the rescue at the first call.
To understand the tricks of a lying friend,
Check how he keeps his word.
When people escort jigits
On feats of arms on a long march,
Saddle horse, look at the ridge,
And the mane, and his withers, and horseshoes.
The poor man does not look at the minting of a penny.
Any coinage of a penny is good.
To know what the soul of the bride is,
Look, taking from under the paternal shelter.
The wealth of a dzhigit is only a horse and kamcha.
For a friend and life, he will give in the heat of the moment.
Look: the cauldrons of the rich man are huge,
And how many guests tasted pilaf?
He who walks with his retinue is as rich as Khatam.
Asking for a supply is on the heels.
But both, like moles to the blind,
Look, death is becoming a catch.
Forgotten and trampled on the custom of the fathers.
Look: the fate of the brave is sad.
In treason and cowardice of the best fighters
The traitor and coward reproaches severely.
The cowardly are haunted by fear everywhere.
Look: fighting in the steppe and in the mountains,
Dzhigit plunges the enemy into dust,
And the coward leaves the daring one in battle.
Merchants forgot Allah long ago.
Having bought grain from the deykhan for next to nothing,
Waiting for it to rise in price
It is mixed with sex in the markets.
Satan deprives us of abstinence,
Prevents the faithful from praying.
Look, open unwilling eyes:
The sprout of his evil seed is branching.
And a real horseman is cheerful and kind.
He does not accumulate resentment in an open heart.
Look: the neighbor is shivering with anger,
Without strife, he cannot, empty-headed.
The unfortunate brothers went into the desert.
Magtymguly became related to the enemy.
Hodjas and seids drag in the dust.
Watch how the foundation lives crumble.
I respect advice like a law.
Don't be a dishonest friend
Captivated by a chance meeting
Don't be ready to serve.
Death will step on every threshold;
To those who are alone in trouble,
Be responsive, kind and not strict,
Don't be cruel to sickness.
When, being in battle,
A coward loses his will
With friends in a single formation,
Don't be afraid of enemies.
We'll leave. The years will fly by.
All will then be equal.
Don't be afraid of fools. Never
Involved, Fragi, do not be with them.
Invincible
Know: what I created in the main is eternal, like the moon,
Forever free is my Turkmen country.
We will forget peace if the enemy knocks on our gates,
The Turkmen fortress is, you know, that fortress made of steel.
Suleiman himself, Rustam, Jamshid threatened her with a sword,
A hundred thousand shahs sent fighters every day - all for nothing.
She is an example to the mountains when a warrior raises a shield,
And every swing of her sword will give birth to her daring ones.
Teke, yomud, yazyr, goklen with akhal will stand in a row,
They will go camping - in the gardens the flowers are enthusiastically burning.
Iranians were thrown from the ridges to the bottom of rocky pits,
And day and night their pitiful groan is heard from there to us.
The enemy is not terrible to us, let him stand at our very walls,
We cannot be taken prisoner - the son of a Turkmen does not know the word "captivity".
Whenever guests come, he is always ready for them
Turkmen speech is always direct, there is no lie in it.
So says Makhtumkuli - there is no stain on the soul,
God looked at him - his country is blooming!
Mountains in the fog
The tops of the mountains in the milky fog,
They are not visible to us in winter.
It should not be about the husband you meet
Judging by one's appearance.
He left, the other sits down.
People mock the unworthy.
The fire of love will flare up -
One lurks, another shouts.
And in front of me in the open
The sea played with my hopes! ..
Dzhigit and in poverty and in grief
It follows a straight path.
But if rock sharpens your heart,
Lukman is bothering you in vain.
The moon wants to return in vain
Goods purchased by land.
The violent clothes constrain.
The ignoramus is captivated by vices.
Hope lives on the cowardly
Behind a strong wall to hide.
I stand with bowed head
What has my tongue done to me?
But only a coward is not eager to fight,
To lie with the bones for the edge of the native!
And who will condemn Makhtumkuli
Because he won't forget
That he gave his word to the truth and will
To the grave, faithful to that oath!
Like the flesh of the return of being,
Having tasted the dream of death, he wishes
Bloody mine
The soul desires other times.
Majnun, far from home,
In the deaf mountains of a foreign land,
To his laughing Layla,
Drunk with tears, desires.
Looking for Shirin, from city to city
The exhausted Farhad wanders;
Her life-giving rewards,
Already incinerated, desires.
Vamik, who finally got
To my Azra in her palace,
Looking for freedom like a fugitive
He wants to dissolve the evil full.
Pretty Yusup, like a deity.
Not believing in your triumph,
Zuleikha looks at him,
He wants to hold back the moan of love.
Fragi is exhausted by the disease:
Uniter of Tribes
Blessed is he,
In love with Turkmenistan, wishes.
Exile
I was a khan in my homeland,
For the sultans, he was a sultan,
For the unfortunate, he was Lukman.
He was a robe of rye,
Was life, was the ocean -
He has now become a miserable wanderer.
For the blind I was sight,
For a mute speech was
The thoughts of the people were boiling.
The soul of lovers was burning,
It was a song, it was a treat -
I became a beggar in a foreign land.
I, Fragi, was a scimitar,
I was a red coin
The grove of heaven was a Reykhan,
There was fog over the mountains,
Was happy, was desired
Was a palace - and became a desert.
looking for salvation
I am a slave of love, goklin from Atrek,
I'm looking for an enchantress.
A teacher in the wilderness of the century,
I'm looking for a gift of peace.
severely banished by fate
From under the parental roof,
Deprived of the edge of the dear,
I'm looking for a holiday market.
Brother Abdullah - the apple of an eye -
Disappeared. Mammad Sapa is far away.
I am the patron of the prophet,
Swallowing tearful heat, looking.
And my heart flutters like a bird
And it's bitter for me, and my blood is turbid;
I don't know where I can hide
Where to run? I'm looking for Mazar.
I walked through the innocent meadows,
Sang to the skies, mountains, valleys,
And now in the snake's lair
I am looking for my sonorous dutar.
Makhtumkuli in the time of vengeance,
Like a chain, it drags out its torment.
Where are you, Turkmenistan? salvation
Having accepted the blow of fate, I am looking for.
Strangers, look at me.
Who else is languishing like me?
Moths, lovers of fire,
Who among you does not aspire to bliss?
Wind, wind, you're in foreign lands
He sang in his ears, raised the dust of the road ...
Is there a fair check in the world
Where is his happy capital?
Holy man, have you seen the mountain paradise,
You bless the land,
And Bai walks around the world.
Tell me where the poor can hide?
I made a pipe from a reed -
The usurer heard the debtor.
You are my birds! From a hawk
Can a tit hide?
Fish, you are both a boat and a rower,
The blue abyss is your palace.
Is there an island in the world where the fugitive
Could you not be afraid of eternal disasters?
The envious world, you are as old as time,
Taking away your blessed gift...
Is there such a market on earth
Where are the diamonds for a penny?
There is only one beauty in the world
Like a two-week moon;
Her mole is darkened, -
Who compares to my chosen one?
On earth my Mengli lived,
She burned my heart and left.
I have her arrow in my chest.
Where is she? Which star is the queen?
I miss my native land.
Have you walked with her in the mountains?
Let me know if it's still there
Is it raining, gray fog is swirling?
Years pass by,
New cities will emerge.
Who will tell me - will it be then
Do people pray according to the Quran?
A new moon is born
She didn't die forever.
Erected for the usurer,
Will there be a secure dungeon?
Makhtumkuli spoke little, -
Sadness was read in his eyes.
Swans of the fatherland,
Is it not bitter to part with you?