Среда, 18.10.2017
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General Skobelev (BG)
 
I dreamt of General Skobelev,
Only just he got to prison.
I dreamed that he spoke with water,
And the water was answering him.
The trees were listening to them,
Around them was a void.
Was visible only the shadow of the circle,
The shadow of the circle and in it the shadow of the cross.
 
The case was on the island of women,
From ground were rising up flowers.
Around them was White Sea,
In the sea were piled up the ices.
Women stood around him,
Thin like poplars.
Above their fronds was rising up the moon,
And the land was silent underfoot.
 
General looked back around and said,
"Stop your laughing.
Give me a rope and soap,
And we'll sew dresses for all.
A little birch bark on the caps,
Shoes from ten thousand herbs;
Then we'll throw ashberry into fireplace,
And we'll see who of us is right."
 
No one said a word,
The conclusions were clear.
A little further around were standing all those,
Whose views were honest.
Their faces were speckled
From consciousness of their rightfulness;
Their fingers danced ballet on the trigger,
And their souls were empty.
 
Some kind of a casual passer-by
Said, "We're all here, as if our own people.
God's ways are not marked in the maps,
On them there is no ГАИ.
One may believe to society,
One may believe to fate,
But if you want to know the Law,
Then you will know it in yourself."
 
Convoy moved uneasily,
The one who came, was invisible to them.
General continued to mend valenki,
His face grimaced on a cry.
He said, "In such times as ours,
No place unscientific love", –
And his hands were to the elbows in strawberries,
And maybe – to the elbow in blood.
 
Meanwhile, someone nearby was hitting flies,
Has hit to him in forehead with a spoon.
Those who gathered, chipped in,
They've collected for a decent coffin.
The priest read the burial service him,
The judge has read the verdict;
And to the left of the coffin stood the chairman,
And to the right of the coffin was a thief.
 
This case was noted in the Annals,
But few who was writing about it.
The one who was writing, was recollecting about social,
More often was recollecting about his.
And the trees continue them listen,
Mosquito abomination hums.
And women are waiting the continuation of the talk,
And I'm waiting while I will wake up.


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