Dramas, such as The Seagull (1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate.
Born (袗薪褌芯薪 袩邪胁谢芯胁懈褔 效械褏芯胁) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother.
"When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring.
In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women.
Nenunzhaya pobeda, first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular M贸r J贸kai. People also mocked ideological optimism of J贸kai as a politician.
Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta.
In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party, his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888.
The failure of The Wood Demon, play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book.
Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against Alfred Dreyfus, his friendship with Suvorin ended
袛褟写褟 袙邪薪褟 = Dyadya Vanya = Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov
Uncle Vanya is a play by the Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. It was first published in 1898.
The play portrays the visit of an elderly professor and his glamorous, much younger second wife, Yelena, to the rural estate that supports their urban lifestyle.
Two friends鈥擵anya, brother of the professor's late first wife, who has long managed the estate, and Astrov, the local doctor鈥攂oth fall under Yelena's spell, while bemoaning the ennui of their provincial existence.
Sonya, the professor's daughter by his first wife, who has worked with Vanya to keep the estate going, suffers from her unrequited feelings for Dr. Astrov.
Matters are brought to a crisis when the professor announces his intention to sell the estate, Vanya and Sonya's home, with a view to investing the proceeds to achieve a higher income for himself and his wife. ...
If Uncle Vania is a very Russian play, its modernity and subject give it a form of universality. When old professor S茅r茅briakov retires to his property in the countryside, accompanied by his beautiful young wife, he finds his daughter Sonia and Vania, his brother-in-law. She manages the domain, which is seconded by old nanny Marina and Efim, his domestic. He also met T茅l茅guine, a ruined owner, and Astrov, an ecological doctor - an arrival that will disturb and generate existential challenges. In this family lock-up, thwarted love, friendship, and desire give rise to frustrations that lead the characters to self-destruction, even if they believe in their dreams and do not resign themselves. Chekhov paints a half-country, half-intellectual bourgeoisie in the sinking process, incapable of evolving. A painting of humanity in a crisis touches us because it is a statement of failure; it shows men who know they have missed their lives but cannot leave them. Remarkable.
An old retired ailing professor, the gout, Alexandre Serebriakov living with relatives just before the turn of the twentieth century in the isolated lonely Russian countryside on the struggling large estate, he inherited too soon from his dead wife (how long will it survive? ) fanatically preoccupied in writing which no one else cares about anymore, he was a former minor celebrity, neglects the world around, anti- social , aloof and now left alone his choice, causing friction in the leaderless house, his quest to be relevant again slowly fades like the sunset, a young unhappy second wife of 27, Yeliena Andryeevkna quite pretty which attracts unwanted admirers, men want what they cannot reach, a need as old as the human race, she's too afraid of misadventures to step out, Sonia along with the gloomy Ivan runs the business of managing the estate, bored of life in love but the man is not, the eternal dead end, his the owner's plain looking daughter by the first wife; Maryia Voinitskaia mother of his late spouse, to reside in peace her only want , Ivan Voinitsky (Uncle Vanya) her troubled, volatile son in love with Yeliena, doctor Mihail Astrov also fascinated by Yeliena and thus a frequent visitor. Good -looking, intelligent, in his thirties likes planting trees trying to restore the nearby forest an impossibility, a slight drinking problem though. Ilyia Telyeghin landless landowner a poor man taking charity, still plays a mean guitar and Marina an ancient rather obese servant in reality a member of the family, a fine knitter, there is plenty of room here for the desperate crowd , Uncle Vanya feels the tension mount the pressure intense. An interesting vision of a divided house which will never last , must fall , where it lands nobody can guess , and the sure collateral damage . All seem frustrated by the situation they're living, not aware that Lincoln said: "Folks are usually about as happy as they make up their minds to be". The stew in the pot is soon to explode the splash will destroy, never to return to the previous scene. Another example of why the famous Russian writer was... such a word is overused today, magnificent, however this applies here for all to view and none can deny, the talent shows. If you enjoy the dark aspects of Russian literature this certainly flows into the top level and then descends the bottomless pit of human angst...subliminal though it isn't, the unpleasantness clear for all to see...
I really think there should be the option "seen" on 欧宝娱乐 for the plays we experience on stage. It is much more powerful than merely reading them.
Spending a few days in London with my three teenagers last week, we all agreed on the favourite treats: the two (very different) theatre performances we watched, one of which was Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre in Westend.
Those scenes in the end, when Uncle Vanya, Astrov and Sonya reflect on their suffering, and find hope in the idea that the future will make their individual pain obsolete, and that people will find better ways to communicate and share with each other, for better relationships to develop! The double pain you feel as a spectator, knowing they were so wrong about the future, and so right about assessing their own misery!
We still cater to narcissistic energy vampires and long for love in the most hopeless places. We still suffer from a lopsided supply in desire and attraction towards undeserving people for superficial reasons. We still struggle to find our role in families where different needs and wishes clash with brutal force, and we still find solace in committing to everyday tasks to stay sane - "cultiver notre jardin", as Voltaire's Candide would have put it after experiencing the craziness we call the world.
Watching the raw emotions play out on stage while the world keeps feeding the insane frenzy of a few powerful all-consuming egos is a strong indication of Aristotelian cathartic healing actually working to a certain degree.
For you leave the misery on stage and walk out into the London night, watching people leaving theatres around you, and despite all, you feel a tiny bit better and more hopeful.
As long as theatres set up plays, not all is lost!
"Oh, yes! I used to be an inspiring personality who never inspired anybody! Uncle Vanya ~~~ Anton Chekhov
Random fact: Vanya translates to John in English. The literal title of Chekhov's play in English is Uncle John.
This review is both on Chekhov's play, and David Mamet's translation. Uncle Vanya is often relegated to the weakest of Chekhov's four major plays. That is unfortunate since it is an amazing work. I will admit, I'm not a fan of Mamet's work, but in his Chekhov translations, Mamet's writing is amazing. In Mamet's hands, Chekhov become not the stuffy lifeless playwright of scholars and academia, but living, breathing characters filled with passion and emotions. Here Chekhov's characters become sexual and passionate ~~ made more of earth than air.
Mamet is more controlled here then he is on his own plays. This translation is closer to what Chekhov intended than most I have ever read. These people are modern, just as they were modern in Chekhov's original work ~~ in Chekhov's time.
Chekhov and Mamet both write characters that are loaded with life. Both write about contemporary, life in its simultaneous simplicity and complexity. I highly recommend Mamet's translation of Uncle Vanya. He has written a beautiful translation.
Uncle Vanya was completed by Russian playwright, author and doctor Anton Chekhov in 1897 and first produced in Moscow in 1899. This fairly complicated interaction between a group of people, secluded in a country estate is filled with dramatic irony and with overwhelming themes of introspection, ennui and dashed hopes. To say it is bleak would be like saying Conan O鈥橞rien can be a snarky smart ass.
But this is Russian drama, so some darkness can be expected, even anticipated. I wonder if long, cold winter nights of cabin fever will just get to you.
An elitist professor and his much younger trophy wife have returned to visit the country estate that keeps him up. Residing there and maintaining the estate is his daughter from his deceased first wife and his former brother-in-law, along with a country doctor and a handful of other folks. The professor is self centered and petulant, his wife is disillusioned, Uncle Vanya is tiresome but rightfully indignant and his niece Sonya is disconsolate from rejections both real and imagined.
Essentially, everyone is unhappy and melancholy and Chekhov has created an atmosphere of mercurial unease and unrest; a black comedy with frayed edges.
Actually, about half way through, it occurred to me that this read like a Woody Allen film and I wondered if he had ever directed Uncle Vanya. I鈥檒l be damned if he had in fact made a modernized adaptation, the 1987 film September, starring Mia Farrow and Elaine Stritch. I pulled up Netflix and watched, noting that Allen had made some distinct changes, altered the gender and relational complexities some, but had maintained the overall sense of disquietude.
Boil some potatoes, have ready a tall bottle of Stolichnaya and enjoy.
This play was something that was perhaps too subtle for its own good. Average to moderate intelligence, not versed in literary theory, not nimbus of psychoanalysis, will find this play 'affadi' like they say in French. The salutary force of a play of this calibre can only be deconstructionism.
I have no doubt that there is a great amount of depth to this work of Chekhov. Say I acquire an abtract painting that is only a blank canvas. Then I try all sorts of tricks to make sense of it. Then someone thinks of shining black light to this 'picture'. The idea bears fruit and we see blood spread onto the canvas.
We need a sort of black light to this play. Else it comes out as trite and uninteresting. It is strange that only in literature, and the 7th art does this inexactitude apply. The surface of the play is harmless and mild fun. That is all that most naked vision will reveal, unenhanced by knowledge and training.
It is to be noted that many works of modern literature play with the comprehension of this sort without resorting to darkened subterfuges. It is perfectly possible to exercise discretion and subtleness without frustrating the reading experience. Books like The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley, poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley, American totems like Mark Twain, the cynics, the stoics, the epicurean Greeks, all have illuminated the way for the casual consumer of art to understand their creation.
Perhaps Chekhov really felt useless and stifled like the characters he inked. He was possibly dissatisfied with misdirection and wanted to surprise his readers with a lightning bolt and a flourish, taking a card out of his hat, and a rabbit from his suspiciously untucked sleeve. Who can know?
Of course reading the play has its rewards. Such as asking whether the Professor is really the villain of this story, putting on an Act lulling the readers until climax came through. The multitudes of love avowal constricted the small world of the Stage, and like a Wes Anderson, made the limitations of the theatre melt away, in the same way that camphor sublimates into the air.
Still, as you can see, there is little negative about the play in this review. Two stars is an okay score for me. And I will stick that in my pipe and smoke it in peace. Lastly, I must say that the play's women are all well crafted. Each of them is a story. Sonya and Elena have as many shrewish thoughts as much as the sun has ice. Well done, Chekhov, I say without sarcasm. You had a unique voice for a while. Nobody wrote plays like you did. But I prefer your short stories.
The Reduced Shakespeare Company performed a shortened version of Uncle Vanya on their BBC radio show, which contained only three lines:
Are you Uncle Vanya? I am. [Gunshot sounds] Ouch!
鈥淥ne hundred years from now, the people who come after us, for whom our lives are showing the way--will they think of us kindly? Will they remember us with a kind word? I wish to God I could think so.鈥�
I listened to an LA Theater Works Production featuring Stacy Keach as Uncle Vanya, translated/adapted by David Mamet. The play portrays the visit of an elderly professor and his glamorous younger wife, Yelena, from Moscow to their rural estate. Two friends鈥擵anya, brother of the professor's late first wife, who has long managed the estate, and Astrov, the local doctor鈥攂oth fall for the (younger) Yelena, bemoaning their aging and boring country life.
Vanya: You鈥檝e known me for a long time. Tell me, how have I changed?
Astove: You were once young, and now you are old.
And another great exchange:
Helena: What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.]
Vanya: A fine day to hang oneself.
Astrov announces he plans to sell the estate, putting things in turmoil. Among other things, Vanya tries to shoot Astrov, and Vanya later considers suicide, until Astrov changes his mind and his daughter talks him out of it
Sonia: What can we do? We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile鈥攁nd鈥攚e shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith.
One of the four great Chekhov plays, including The Seagull, Three Sisters, and The Seagull. Focusing on character and raising questions versus plot and action. I love me some Chekhov.
**Uncle Vanya and Zombies by Anton Chekhov and Markus Wessendorf, a post-apocalyptic stage adaptation of Chekhov's play with the following premise:
After a major zombie outbreak on the island of O驶ahu, a television network has turned Kennedy Theatre into a studio for their new reality show Theatre Masterpieces and Zombies. The major challenge for the contestants on this show is to survive their performance of a classic play while fending off zombies released onto the stage by the popular host. After the success of last month's The Tempest and Zombies, tonight's show will feature a classic example of Russian Realism, Anton Chekhov's Uncle Vanya (1897).
My own idea for a contemporary parody is Uncle Vanya and Cellphones, where we see all these amusingly self-absorbed people talking and constantly peering into their phones and commenting endlessly on their boring lives and what they see on their phones.
I've been on a Chekhov binge this year comparing various translations. Uncle Vanya is the best of the lot, and I am looking forward to reading Annie Baker's translation more than any other.
Just this. "We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile--and--we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! You have never known what happiness was, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest.We shall rest!We shall rest."
Similar themes as in Three Sisters, but I liked Three Sisters better than Uncle Vanya, even though I really enjoyed this play also. We have three male characters in existential, middle-life crisis and two females unsatisfied with their lives, but seeking consolation in love, faith in God and ideals. The melancholic and nostalgic atmosphere is present throughout the whole play as well as the sense of tiredness of life.
ASTROFF. 鈥� And then, existence is tedious, anyway; it is a senseless, dirty business, this life, and goes heavily.
HELENA. What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.] VOITSKI. A fine day to hang oneself.
SEREBRAKOFF. I have spent my life working in the interests of learning. I am used to my library and the lecture hall and to the esteem and admiration of my colleagues. Now I suddenly find myself plunged in this wilderness, condemned to see the same stupid people from morning till night and listen to their futile conversation. I want to live; I long for success and fame and the stir of the world, and here I am in exile! Oh, it is dreadful to spend every moment grieving for the lost past, to see the success of others and sit here with nothing to do but to fear death. I cannot stand it!
Liked the contrast between endurance and persistence of nature vs. oblivion of human life that was pointed out a few times. More than in Three Sisters, the resolution of suffering is found in faith in God and the afterlife, and the female characters were the carriers of that world-view. I think a lot of people could resonate to that longing for eternity and fear of being forgotten.
ASTROFF. 鈥� I sat down and closed my eyes鈥攍ike this鈥攁nd thought: will our descendants two hundred years from now, for whom we are breaking the road, remember to give us a kind word? No, nurse, they will forget. MARINA. Man is forgetful, but God remembers.
Existential themes of meaning found in one鈥檚 work were present as in Three Sisters, with an addition of discussing the nature of passion as the escape of feelings of boredom, idleness, laziness, and absence of finding the meaning in life. The self-deception we do when we tell ourselves that we love someone is very much real, and we tend to often call love the shallow feelings of romance and give them a significance which they do not have by themselves. The physical attraction based just on someone external beauty or other superficial characteristics is just way too lightly called love.
ASTROFF. 鈥� Stay, I implore you! Confess that there is nothing for you to do in this world. You have no object in life; there is nothing to occupy your attention, and sooner or later your feelings must master you. It is inevitable.
ASTROFF. I love no one, and never shall! Beauty alone has the power to touch me still. I am deeply moved by it. Helena could turn my head in a day if she wanted to, but that is not love, that is not affection鈥�
HELENA鈥�. I swear to you I married him for love. I was fascinated by his fame and learning. I know now that it was not real love, but it seemed real at the time鈥�.
In Uncle Vanya I also adored the revelation of the hypocrisy of men in the high position of power that they had due to their privilege, and not their outstanding talents, qualities or creativity. We have to look past someone position in society and think by ourselves critically about their work.
VOITSKI. But I'll tell you something; the man has been writing on art for twenty-five years, and he doesn't know the very first thing about it. For twenty-five years he has been chewing on other men's thoughts about realism, naturalism, and all such foolishness; for twenty-five years he has been reading and writing things that clever men have long known and stupid ones are not interested in; for twenty-five years he has been making his imaginary mountains out of molehills. And just think of the man's self-conceit and presumption all this time! For twenty-five years he has been masquerading in false clothes and has now retired absolutely unknown to any living soul; and yet see him! stalking across the earth like a demi-god!
Sonja was the most successful in finding hope and endurance against all odds and disadvantages and I really felt for her. Her final speech was the great ending to the play. Lots of material to think about for sure.
SONIA. What can we do? We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile鈥攁nd鈥攚e shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. [She wipes away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! You have never known what happiness was, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. We shall rest. We shall rest.
Another great Anton Chekhov play. I鈥檓 not really sure what it is I love about Chekhov, though if I had to narrow it down I might attribute that love to some of his more pitiable characters鈥攖hink Lubov Andreyevna, for example, or Treplev from The Seagull. Or I might say that there鈥檚 a kind of understatedness to his plots that bring his plays to life in a way that is often unmatched. There are recurring themes, also, that unify his four major works. The characters in Uncle Vanya discuss at length the destructive nature of idleness, as the sisters do in Three Sisters. Chekhov was all about dedicating one鈥檚 life to his or her work, making oneself useful to some degree. There鈥檚 also a recurring theme of accepting one鈥檚 station in life and carrying on in the face of adversity. The show must go on; it is the only way we can survive.
I still think The Cherry Orchard is his best work, though this one may come in at a close second. Here is my list of Chekhov plays, ranked:
1. The Cherry Orchard 2. Uncle Vanya 3. The Seagull 4. Three Sisters
A sort of cynical humor. But what was it about? Definitely more fun the second time, so far. 2nd review. Realistic. Adult. People not quite happy with the way things turned out. But life goes on. Interesting observations about degradation of the enviorment. But who鈥檚 the hero? Vanya or the Doctor? Need to try his other famous plays.
I enjoyed this play about people lamenting their wasted lives, their misplaced loves and generally poor choices. Lots of alcohol drinking instead, regrets and boredom. Astrov, the initially hard working doctor who becomes infatuated with the professors wife seems to be the centre of the play, more so than Uncle Vanya himself. His interest in saving forests seems to replace saving people as it may be more achievable.
If memory serves me correct, I do believe this was the first play I ever read, and as one of the masters of Russian literature, I guess Chekhov wasn't a bad place to start. Receiving it's Moscow premi猫re in 1899 in a production by the Moscow Art Theatre, the play is not the sort of read to expect to be wildly entertained, but from a cultural and historical stance, it is rather interesting. Some of the dialogues momentarily look like monologues because they are so long. The life philosophies though are worth examining. Characters are distinct and offer different points of view. This play definitely gets into several universal themes, of unrequited love, marrying for convenience, wasted lives, intellectual stimulation as a source of meaning, aging, etc. It is the a read to be thoroughly discussed, most likely in the classroom or study area rather at the dining room table with tea and biscuits. With a brisk pace and emotionally heavy tones Chekhov has a true way with words, with eloquent speeches by miserable people caught up in their sad and superficial lives, whilst also demonstrating a strong ecological streak, and love of the natural world. A classic book no doubt, but it's a substitute to the actual play up on stage.
We have finally come to the end of 2020. I managed to average 11 books a month in this crazy year. I finished with a play. This year I discovered the writing of Anton Chekhov, and he was brilliant, ahead of his time. Uncle Vanya has love triangles and even squares and characters discussing that the destruction of the world will come from hatred of people rather than war. He even touched on man鈥檚 destruction of the forests. Few thought of these things in the 1880s and yet there Chekhov was 140 years ago heeding is a warning. Perhaps we should have listened to him as it would have minimized the mess we are in today. Hopefully, the world can produce more people like Anton Chekhov. And that, my goodreads friends, ends my 2020 reading. I will be finishing up my exploration of Chekhov鈥檚 work in 2021, which is bound to be a better year than this.
d枚rt g眉n 枚nce okumaya ba艧lam谋艧谋m gibi g枚r眉n眉yor ama asl谋nda birka莽 g眉n elimde gezdirip bu sabah 莽o臒unu okudum, az 枚nce de kalan谋 okuyup az 枚nce bitirdim. ve ne kadar g眉zel bir metin bu. t眉rk tiyatrolar谋nda bir mart谋 tutkusu var ama karakterleriyle, hikayesiyle, hakl谋 mutsuzlu臒uyla bence vanya day谋 mart谋鈥檇an birka莽 g枚mlek 眉st眉n bir hikaye. doyamad谋m, birka莽 kere daha okurum gibi geliyor bana. o kadar duyguland谋rd谋 ki sonunda a臒lad谋m :鈥�)