On it it is audible – whether bumblebees over spikelets, or grasshoppers between stalks – an iron rattle – something swelled.
I scurry over the sea and close my eyes,
I go wrapped in black pity, in kireya.When I look at the luxurious charmsAnd I see a flood of heavenly delight,I ask god if the clouds will fall
▶ “And why won’t this bay sink into the ground?” Peter Karmansky. Files to download
“Red Novel” Andriy Golovko
Read online novel by Andrei Golovko “Red Novel”
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Gentlemen’s lan. Heat. Harvest.
Heavily harnessed to the scythes by train, we crawled, beating the golden slices of someone else’s grain. Spikelets fell, and in their rustling – the rattle of glasses of wine … The whining of a hungry child: bread! .. Rose laughter of beautiful women … Sad sigh from under the rags …
Spikelets fell, hard braking braids. Muscles tore under the patches. And behind in the field – drops of our sweat – sno-pi-sheaves, ..
You stopped. He wore a braid and was speechless.
– Do you hear?
– What? Listened.
From afar, in the middle of the undulating fields – savings. The sieve and the belly turned out. She unbuttoned all the buttons. Obich is a gray and poor village. In a whim. And the steppe – the steppe beyond the horizon. On it it is audible – whether bumblebees over spikelets, or grasshoppers between stalks – an iron rattle – something swelled.
“Reapers,” someone said.
You, gloomy, grimaced angrily.
“Oh, they gritted their teeth!” Woe to us. And so you can barely earn a piece of bread wherever you find it, and here – on you! We will not be needed. One of the hundreds is lucky to get into the car drivers. And others – to breathe!
Gloomy moved. The braids rang again. Falling ears rustled, and in my head, like ears of corn in the swaths, thoughts formed.
“… Then we have to breathe! Anu? – A thousand lord’s tithes. For the harvest – two hundred reapers, two hundred knitters – four hundred. And then – two dozen reapers, well, let them have fifty people. And the rest.? Breathe then.Or …
In the autumn night will sleep, devoured from a thousand tithes, savings. Behind the fence are pot-bellied barns. We are hungry. ”“ Hey, a knife in the belly! Bryaz! – locks. Grain will be sprinkled instead of telbukhs. On the truck. At dawn, fires are lit in the houses. And in the morning it will smell only of baked bread – a gray spot will lure along the way. Closer – grows. Punishers … “
Along the way, taking off the smoke, a crowd of people pushed. It was audible: rumble … rumble …
Approached. We stood and stared.
In front – a few men. Dirty and ragged … Where are the bruises. A woman in the crowd. With golden hair and radiant eyes. On all the shackles. Around – with naked swords of the guard. They approached and stopped.
– And carry, only, water! Cried one with a cockade. You took a pumpkin with water. Run up.
– Allow yourself, Mr. Officer. Where are you stuffed animals? Hehe! – And frowned intently.
– In places not so far away. That is why we are not given such things: they do not allow us to prosper. Revolutionaries. Neither the king nor God is recognized. Brother to brother is being teased …
– Ich, you bastards!
He quickly ran his eyes around the crowd, jumping from face to face. He stopped on it as if he had stumbled. I was silent. I saw how your eyes suddenly filled with blood and your eyebrows moved menacingly.
“Our blood to you?” Whores flap! Someone from the crowd threw:
– You are blind. Don’t you see through it – free fields, yourself and others happy at your work. Cheerful and happy children? Don’t you see …
And one of the officers raised a fist to his face.
– I you …
She stood with a mournful smile on her dusty face. My eyes looked at us radiantly, and in them I saw an acquaintance from a pink dream fairy tale.
And behind it – the steppe is golden, wavy. In the solar trembling of the distance, she smiled at bizarre palaces … gardens in bloom … It rang blue-bell …
“You are blind,” said one of the crowd, “you should kneel down.” To gnaw these iron fetters with your teeth until the sparks fall! ..
A punch hit him in the face.
– Step by step march! ..
The crowd moved along the path. Once again, clear eyes splashed on us. I heard my heart suddenly break. Then – rushed in a hurry, until his chest tore.
And the smoke on the way took off – wrapped in a pink further …
In the evening we went home past the savings. Sweaty and tired. Crystal and silver rumbled from the gazebo in the garden. There was a commotion. Someone laughed:
“Go-go!” That’s what they need so that they don’t raise their heads above our soles … go-go! ..
From the pond, which is set in a frame of curly willows, painted with water lilies and azaleas – splashing oars. On the sleepy water – like gems who pour, and they play, smile to the moon through the thick branches. White, light as shadows, figures. Laughter is splashing. Someone sang young and passionately:
I will suffocate, lovingly,And I will die with you!
Somewhere along the way rips an unlubricated cart. I approached you.
– Oh, not life, but paradise! And why are we with you, my friend, in hell? Both them and us were hatched by Adam and Eve, and in them, and in us, red blood flows through the veins.
“God willing,” you said. And in the brain, not knocked off his feet by this thought, there was a question: why?
– No, God forbid. He created humans and said: live, be fruitful and inhabit the earth. (And he closed himself and plugged his ears with a rag.) And at first there was free land and free people … Ages passed. Someone spilled and tasted blood somewhere. Intoxicated. And the summers went by, hundreds or thousands of children. Blood was pouring … Fingers trembled convulsively, looking for throats, weaving ropes from human veins, so that there was something to nest and harness next to the cupboards of those overcome in battle …
– And we were born in captivity? You sighed.
– Yes, we were born in captivity. At the very bottom of hell. Do you remember? Hungry and sad mother’s face? In the corner mournful eyes: “Come to me, all toilers and burdened, and I will rest you …” It smelled like stale barley, then … Then – in the weeds with you, under the mud in the rags. .. For strangers sheep … At hard work, and somehow you will not die of hunger …
We were already walking down the village street. Shabby houses with overhanging foreheads on the sides. In the dust of a street child.
“The wolf behind the mountain!”
No, kids, not far away. Behind the dam now, behind the jagged fence. And not the goose, but your destiny and your parents are pinched with laughter, until the belly sways.
So I thought, And written lab reports you?
You walked in silence with your head bowed. And it seemed to me … What? No no. He looked at your feet, at his own. But it was so clearly heard: bang-bang! ..
They walked in silence.
Quiet in the countryside. Only the gaping rotten mouths of the poor closed one by one, swallowing the weary people. Rip … Rip …
Sleep in the house was hard to fall down: father – on the floor, mother – by the stove, in the middle of the house – children …
I did not sleep. Maybe because aspen whispered mysteriously about something outside the window (oh, I would overhear!). Maybe because somewhere he mourned a sad tune. Complainingly he tore to the stars … and broke off, fell with a quiet sigh …
“Ah, the starry night!” Why are you essentially hiding poverty?! She shook the filling with red cornflowers and red poppies. You pour handfuls of gems into the dump, near the threshold! .. Starry night, why?! The starlight will go out – and the wave fairy tale will go out. And shadows will rise from the corners with disgusting laughter … No need! When there is no fairy tale forever, it is not necessary for a moment! ..
And the prayer was torn from the heart. To whom? And do I know! And what did I want? “Do I know?”
…My face leaned over me. Golden curls touched my eyelashes, and radiant eyes ran over me, looking for my eyes …
– You called me – I came. But – ts! She put her finger to her mouth.
“I came to you on tiptoe.” You called me, wanted a clear fairy tale? I came, look.
She led me to the window.
Behind the village there is a fog-covered steppe.
– Gray. I can not see anything! I shouted. She took my hand.
– Look: a sea of rye-wheat. Sweat. Shabby, tired people … The way to the distance … Look – the crowd is pouring waves on it. Corpses underfoot. Go, on the sides of the gallows in agony of the body. Spores are stained with blood and brain. They are going … With a bayonet wound in the abdomen, she slammed to the side, fell to the ground … Do you know?
– Ts! You hear the bells in a fairy tale. Look, in the rays of the sun blue spaces. Gardens in bloom … Whimsical palaces. Silently. But one more step – a storm of people will break through … joyful laughter will merge with the sun’s bells … The noise is clear … Look, just one more step, another one through that corpse that stretched out on the way with a cross.
“Who is it?”
– Maybe you.
He released her hand. Everything is gone. And only the bells are distant and chordal somewhere in the distance, shrouded in fog …
Mother sighed heavily in her sleep. I approached and looked at her old, shabby face for a long time … It was a pity. It hurt. And my heart was pounding in my chest.
“Sleep, Mom!” Let you dream of paradise. The sun is shining. (It did not shine in your life, only hell.) Let your lips smile in a dream – and sadness will cloud. Sleep, mom!
Approached the children:
– And you sleep. Let you dream of a future fairy tale, and love it. And during the day look at the sun, so that your heart is as clear as it is, and the same radiant eyes … The same radiant as I saw.
– Ah, there are none! Where are you? Has gone …
…In the dark he walked along the road. On the sides – copy-copy …
Here they went. Here she stood and looked at me … He leaned towards the path. Here are her footprints … Here … And then? At night. And gave?
And I crawled in the dust, looking for her footprints. He felt with his hands – did not find. Then his eyes darted into the misty distance and cried out in despair:
– Where are you? Where! .. Silence.
Went stubble. Labels between the loaves.
(Continued on next page)
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▶ “Red Novel” Andriy Golovko. Files to download
“I will move you on the wings of sorrow” by Peter Karmansky
Read Peter Karmansky’s poem “I will lift you on the wings of sorrow” online
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As loneliness on the soul will bend the wingsAnd in the heart will be pinched by weeping pity,Come then, come to me, darling,Reveal to me all your sorrow.
Come, put your forehead in my hands,Like a cold forgotten orphan,And swans like the wind in the pasture,What lulls to sleep rye.
Come, I will heal tears from your eyelashesAnd I will take your pain in my own chest,Just bow down to me like a birch,And forget everything, forget everything.
You go from me … You go to lookNew impressions, new charm …I can no longer paintIn your soul the ancient heat.
Go … I will not beg youAnd I will take all the insults,But know that you can’t killFormer memories and sorrows.
Wherever you go, wherever you are -They will go with you like a shadow,And maybe later you will forget everything,But know: you will not find peace.
And in waves of luxury and charm,During a love conversationYou will see all the bloody dreamMy murdered love.
I will bring a wreath from memories of youAnd I’ll put myself on a white screen,And so I will go, until somewhere on the grave,Like a meteor, I will not flash or die.