I love my motherland, but with strange love!

Even my reason can't beat me.

Whether it's the glory of blood,

Whether it is full of pride and piety,

Regardless of the sacred rumors of ancient times,

Can't arouse my comfortable dreams.

But I like it-I don't know why-

Its desolate and indifferent silence on the grassland,

The endless forest is swaying in the wind,

The turbulent river rushes like the sea;

I like driving along the path between villages.

Through the boundless night with slow eyes,

I miss my night and welcome it.

Trembling little lights in abandoned villages on the roadside;

I like the smoke from wildfires,

A large group of horses and chariots spent the night on the grassland,

On the hills in the yellow fields,

Those two sparkling birch trees.

I am full of happiness that no one knows.

Looking at the threshing floor full of grain,

A farmhouse covered with straw,

A small window with embossed shutters;

On a dewy holiday night,

In that drunken farmer's joke,

Watching whistling and dancing,

I can see deeper midnight.

Author lermontov (1814 ~1841), Russian poet Mikhail Jurjevic. 18141June 15 was born in a small aristocratic family in Moscow,1841July 2 1 died in the Caucasus. At the age of 3, he lost his mother and spent his childhood in his grandmother's manor in Penza province. I started writing poems when I was in middle school. 1830 was admitted to Moscow university. After school, he wrote nearly 300 lyric poems and several long poems, most of which were not published before his death. 1832, he was forced to leave the university and transfer to St. Petersburg Guards Sergeant School because he participated in opposing conservative professors. 1834 after graduation, he served in the hussars in the suburbs. 1835, the long poem Haji-Abelek was published, which attracted the attention of literary circles. In the same year, he wrote a drama "Masquerade", which showed a tragic figure who dared to confront the upper class.

Motherland was published in the April issue of 184 1. Poetry expresses the "strange love" for the motherland, and clearly denies the hypocritical and even reactionary patriotism advocated by the czar's ruling group. Hermiakov, a Slavic poet representing the interests of the conservative aristocratic landlord class, once wrote a poem called Motherland, which was published in 1839. He believes that the greatness of Russia lies in the meekness of the Russian people and their devotion to the Orthodox Church. Lermontov put forward his own different views in a tit-for-tat manner, and through touching and convincing image description, pointed out that true patriotism is inseparable from the thoughts and feelings of loving the mountains and rivers of the motherland and the working people. After the publication of this poem, belinsky praised it as "the best Pushkin-style poem", and Dobro Lyubov thought that the poet had reached "a true, sacred and rational understanding of loving the motherland".

Poetry contrasts two views of patriotism very clearly, one is true, flesh-and-blood and deeply rooted in the hearts of the people, and the other is hypocritical, flashy and divorced from the people. The poet said, "I love my motherland, but with strange love!" " "Singularity" is manifested in the traditional preaching different from the ruling class; The poet's patriotic enthusiasm is formed through his inner feelings for the motherland and his inner thinking about the motherland. This feeling can't be suppressed by any force, and it can't be replaced by any other feeling: the "victory" gained by the Tsar ruling group in suppressing people's uprisings at home and abroad and the "glory" exchanged with blood can't make the poet feel any comfort in his heart; The serf owners' insistence on serfdom and their superstition of the Orthodox Church, as well as their so-called "arrogance and pious tranquility", can not arouse any illusions of hope in the poet's mind; There is also the retro tendency of aristocratic nationalists, making up the heroic achievements of their ancestors and showing off themselves with ancient sacred legends. All poets are cold and indifferent. In short, this false "patriotism" cannot replace the poet's "strange love" for the motherland.

After sharp contrast, the poet's colored pen turned to eulogize the enthusiasm of Russian rivers and mountains and the life of Russian people. "But I love ..., I love ..., I love ...", the poet repeatedly stressed and wrote, melting his ardent patriotic feelings into the moving picture of Russian life. Cold grasslands, forests swaying with the wind, rushing rapids, country roads, yellow fields, shining birch trees, boundless darkness, trembling lights and pictures of Russian natural scenery are reflected in front of people like focal planes, which makes people feel beautiful. The shadow of the times is reflected in the natural scenery through the poet's sensitive feeling and dexterous poetic pen, making it hazy and gloomy. With the externalization of people's subjective feelings, objective nature is closer to people's feelings and life, and it is more cordial. The scenery of mountains and rivers in Russia is the living environment of the Russian people and is inseparable from their lives. The poet eulogized it as an integral part of Russian people's life, so we can see the poet and his people everywhere, see the poet running on the village road in a carriage, looking for a place to spend the night, and see the chariots and horses of the brigade spend the night on the grassland, surrounded by wildfires and light smoke. ...

The poet loves the life of the Russian people. He sings with rare joy and happiness to express his love for his motherland Russia. He painted a genre painting of Russian people's life. The threshing floor is full of harvested grain, the cottage of the farmer is covered with straw, and there are embossed shutters on the small windows, which makes the poets feel cordial and happy. There are even more festive nights when farmers get drunk, laugh and dance. The poet "can see deeper into the night" and is full of enthusiasm and tireless. Poets love the people of the motherland and their lives, including their living environment. This is true patriotism, that is, what the poet calls "strange love", which is far deeper, heavier and more real than those empty and hypocritical "patriotism".