Died Soviet poet Nikolai Dorizo
In Peredelkino the age of 87 years died a Soviet poet Nikolai Dorizo, ITAR-TASS quoted the director of the House of Writers "Peredelkino" Stepan Kolmakov. According to him, the poet died the morning of January 31.
Nicholas Dorizo was born in 1923. Writing began in 1938, and in 1948 released his first collection of poems - "On the home shores." Dorizo known primarily as the author of such songs as "Lights are so many gold" and "From the people in the village can not hide ..." that sounded in the movie "It Happened in Penkovo.
Also Dorizo released poetry collections "While the trees are in the world," "Face of Victory", "I wrote a song once." In addition, his songs sound in the film "a different fate" and "Straight Story."
Creative activity of the poet was awarded several state awards. In particular, he was awarded the Badge of Honor and the Order of Red Banner of Labor, also Dorizo was awarded the State Prize RSFRS Gorky.
http://lenta.ru/news/2011/01/31/dorizo/
"heightened sense of" Nicholas Dorizo
"Will, my God, this Central ...»
- I lucky enough to write songs for a wonderful film: "It was in Penkovo", "Different Destiny, The Straight Story" ... movie, which sounds to my songs, about forty.
Incidentally, a curious story of the song "Lights so much gold on the streets of Saratov ...".
I showed the poem to different composers, but none of them dared to write music to them. Then in high esteem were the product not of love but of labor struggles. And there is not just love poems, and almost amoralka. Still, Konstantin Simonov dared publish a poem in the Literary Gazette. And immediately went to a barrage of hate mail: "What did we learn? Why call? Is it conceivable that our Soviet woman loved a married man! "
And once, when shooting the film "It Happened in Penkovo", which I wrote the song "From the people in the village can not hide ..." is already over, I woke up around five o'clock in the morning, as if someone pushed me in the ribs. "Fires are so many gold ..." as if specially written for the movie! "The same day I met with the composer Kirill Molchanov. He first povozmuschalsya, they say, came too late and then sat down at the piano and immediately struck up a tune. We were both delighted and in this state go to the studio to them. Gorky, to show the song director Stanislav Rostotsky. After listening to us, Rostotsky said that the song is, of course, is good, but finished shooting a movie and it does not belong.
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A day later the phone rang director of the studio: "What do you write a song? All studio her singing. Even if I sang. " Persuade us to Cyril did not have to. And we have not even had time to finish singing, as a director, interrupting us, and cried: "Will, given to me by God and CC stand deadlines for the movie." Especially for this song was dosnyat plot. So she, like a man, jumped on the move in leaving the tram, got into the movie.
was necessary as bread
- In 1942, at the front, has not yet been either the father or a poet, I wrote a poem called "daughter", being composed music Rose Goldin. And a few days later, the song became known around the front!
At the end of the war in the Rostov market I saw a legless invalid in a threadbare overcoat, which traded in corn tortillas and the text "daughter", printed on cigarette paper. Poems and Pellet cost 10 rubles. People are buying something, and more. Hence, my poem was necessary to them as well as bread ...
And recently, a radio veteran read the letter in which he said that, coming back from the front, carrying his daughter bear. Why the bear? Because he remembered and loved by lines from my poem: "You're lying in bed, dear, bear firmly clasped to her chest."
When the girl grew up, Bear passed by inheritance to her child. Now is the granddaughter of a veteran who goes to sleep, embracing all of the same teddy bear - plaything postwar period. For the sake of such moments is to live and work.
I was always lucky ...
- My parents were talented, interesting and intelligent people. Dad - a native of Greece. He belonged to a noble Greek family, at one time supported the revolution, and after moving with his parents in Russia, worked as an attorney. Mom, Kuban Cossack, graduated from the conservatory at the piano and was a musician. She recorded my first verse experiences in a notebook, which is kept by me until now.
Still, I had an amazing grandmother, Maria NAZAROVNA. It was she who infected me a love of poetry, song, popular word. I picked up on it and the ability to portray someone in their faces, "represent", she said ...
My childhood could have been a happy, if in 1938 failed to arrest his father. Mom said that he was given 10 years incommunicado, and in fact he was shot. The country then went to the phrase: "Son of the Father is not responding." With regard to me it was true: I was accepted into the Komsomol, moreover, was elected secretary of the Komsomol organization of the school. I am still grateful to the teachers, classmates, neighbors, who treated me well and never hinted at the fact that my father was arrested.
I was very lucky to good people.
But how on earth to live without love
- I am sure that love was, is and will be. After all, what makes a man penetrated with this sentiment. If u talk about me, I have always been a "heightened sense": my woman - not my woman. Whether it is three times beautiful, I will not come to it if you do not feel that it is mine. And it's "heightened sense" has never failed me ...
Many years ago I met a beautiful woman, but ... "abandon all hope - the same prima operetta theater Vera Volskaya!" - Warned friends.
In fact: who I was then? Usually students of the Literary Institute with a bunch of problems, including material.
But apparently, something to be, not be avoided. It has been over twenty years. I managed to get a car, cottage, apartment. And then somehow come back from publishing with his new book. I see - is Vera the restaurant "Prague" with a cake in his hand. I ask the driver to slow down. Drove it, and some time to invite a movie. There I was ready to buy for her the whole restaurant. With regard to the proposal, it did not I, but Vera. I was constantly invited into a theater, a restaurant, and she once told me: "Nick, I have no time. It is better to marry me. " For 37 years we are together.
I have always lived on the eve of something
- I recently turned 80 years old - the age, worthy of longevity. I was always worried about the problem of longevity. Why do some people live long, others not enough. It seems to me that a lot depends on heredity, but many of whether a person talent to tailor their skills to their capabilities. "Longevity of your body in the same unfathomable complexity: compliance needs him and his life-saving opportunities." Plays an important role and interest in life, which comes from spirituality. It is not necessary to write poetry. "Because so he protects himself, God punishes his longevity, as it can not be said for a long time he lived, and say a long time dying."
For me, spirituality is inseparable from faith in God. My grandfather was the archpriest of the cathedral of the Kuban, and his father - an ardent atheist, so my path to God was a long one. This I have wronged him. I believe that all of God: and my creativity, and luck, and a meeting with Vera. I complain to life. I have a wonderful family, children, grandchildren. Over the past two years I've written so many poems, now comes a new book, "Other Times". Write appreciative readers. I recently came: "Moscow. Kremlin. Nicholas Dorizo. My songs are still heard on the radio, on television, at the banquet table. What more could you ask for? So I'm a happy man.
in the Caucasus Mountains is still living the old man
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in the Caucasus Mountains is still living the old man,
Mighty genius - the genius of longevity.
He did not leave his mountain Lerik *-
Just think! - A half century.
When Pushkin was already an adult he is.
Could hug him here with his hands.
All of humanity is far away those times
Out on the planet. He stayed with us.
... I went with the reverence in that quiet house,
That century-old silent cloister ...
And, oddly enough, I think that
That maybe I am a big survivor.
At least that survived the war,
Such that did not happen on the planet.
And it is in its magnitude
Not less than live-century on earth.
At Capri summer I met in the winter,
And in the winter tundra first of April.
At tyschi miles multiply my age,
Because distance - it's the same time.
And because I'm older than old,
Thoughtful baby longevity
Not leaving their mountain Lerik
Not a year or two, a half century.
I am over at sea, in the city,
The difficult and easy routes.
Not for years - I am over in minutes,
That maybe there are more, than a year.
* Lerik - urban village, the center of Lerik region of Azerbaijan. The village stretches in a mountain valley at an altitude of 1000-2500 meters. Lerik - the birthplace of long-lived.