118 исторических миниатюр и 108 авторских текстов на 13 иностранных языках. Сборник
Шрифт:
That is - emigration? But in this version will be no publications... And the ban reading. Until new times will have come.
And emigration isn't simple for life... Bunin and Nabokov? They are people of (Western) European culture.
How to be overseas to the one, who learn to read on the Church books, who grew up among the literate simple pious villagers, who studied in a Church-teacher school. How to be overseas to the one, whose views were formed in communion with the ordinary village priest?
Besides. No European practicalness with a some sort of plan, a project, a distinct inner discipline, a record of income and expenditure, savings, a bank account, and paperwork of the necessary documents...
Means, Not emigrant. But according to "Gogol model" - to live in others houses and on hospitable bread - it won't turn out. Not that education, not those habits, not that humility. Lack of fear of a terrible court, at last. Young temperament. Unique visual attractiveness ("Angel", "Cherub"). Ease of a poetic feather.
Means - loyalty, let both limited, and conditional, let and without certificate? Hopes for security, for financial prosperity, for a dispensation, for influence, for any fragments of sweet involvement in unlimited power?
The country is changing, it's obvious. Is it possible to stand aside, not to help? How to help? Naturally, by poetry, poetic creativity.
"The earth - the ship!
But Someone suddenly
Behind new life, new glory
In a direct thick of storms and blizzards
Majestically moved it forwards."
"But the one who thought of the maiden,
Will ascend in the star ship."
Means - loyalty, let and limited, conditional. We shall test with a claw - it won't stick.
Isadora remains in the past.
"Anna Snegina"?
Perhaps, all these reflections were present, but - on a surface?
And in depth - the genius's intuition. Historical intuition. Historical insight.
If he leave away abroad, - almost certainly a ban: "the emigrant".
Loyalty? It's not that easy. It's really hard. I would like to, but books are not allowed. you can not to remove away off from your life Church books, religious relatives, church and teachers' school and village priest. And if you cut off all this, it' will be unpleasant.
And it is difficult to leave. And to remain - there are no prospects.
And if: "pothouse" ('kabak') and "hooligan"?
And what?
And so: "the peasant's poet - bully."
They will rotating the book by their hands - neither yes, nor no. They will keep silence. They will not say anything. Though will not approve (out loud), but they will not forbid reading either ...
TO REMAIN IN THE SOULS? TO REMAIN IN THE HEARTS? TO HELP? TO SUPPORT?
1944.
The lieutenant who has emerged from bloody fights near Bialystok - the recent school student who has found in himself talents of the fearless commander and accurate machine gunner - remembered recent hand-to-hand fighting when he fought off attacking enemy soldiers with a machine gun's spare barrel, and when, been nearly strangled, he have hacked one of opponents with an engineer shovel.
Him, the lieutenant, who has become after catastrophic losses by the chief of staff of battalion - he was waited by bloody fights on Vistula after some days ... and further, further... Berlin...
203 death notifications will be filled by the new chief of staff of battalion these some days of rest. One of results of fights near Bialystok. How many from a death toll did read Sergey Yesenin's verses, were admirers of his creativity? Tens, hundreds of millions people participated in events of World War II; they had different literary preferences, and at someone, perhaps, there were no poetic interests.
After washing clothing and having washed up in the rivulet flowing near one of the villages of Bialystok edge, the survived lieutenant, standing on the coast, reads aloud:
"Oh, my Russia, homeland meek,
Glorias your joy, but short, very quik.
Only to you I save my love.
With a loud song in the spring lawn."
"My life? or you to me was dreaming?
As if on a pink horse, I was galloping
In spring booming morning,
Making air breaking."
"Honey, sit closer,
Look into eyes each other's.
I want under your's eyes of kind sun
To listen sensual hurricane."
"I is coming any closer, now clearly I hear - the whisper:
– ...Wieczny odpoczywanie racz mu da'c Panie ...
(-... Lord deign to give him the Eternal resting ....)" (V. Bogomolov. "Cemetery at Bialystok").
'Lord, I believe!..
But introduce in Your Paradise
My edge native, is pierced,
With rain's arrows, are falling from rise'.
March 11, 2017 - March 15, 2017.
Phased translation from Russian into English. Supplementation of translated text, amendment: 08 November 2017 21:06, 09 November 2017 10:13.
Владимир
XLV. A fairy tale of spring wind music
<