Mikhail Veller
“It was you I was waiting for.
Although you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, friends, sit down by the fire: listen to the story ... About love and about the bombing, about the big battleship Marat, how I was slightly wounded defending Leningrad. What do you want, old man?
- To be interesting.
- Offended, chief. The company does not knit brooms. If you start, you will forget that you wanted to go to the toilet. Once upon a time, Parisian azhans, escorting a dangerous criminal around the city, stuck a fishhook into the tender flesh of the thigh, and wound the fishing line around their fingers. And the thug walked like a nice little, to the outsider's eye - a voluntary companion. This is how the plot of a real story should work.
And about love.
- Love excites the blood and, together with hunger, rules the world; but how. Our political credo: always!
- And happiness: will the promised happiness come true?
- Absolutely. This is the only reason why this conversation has been started. Keep your pocket wider: the blue wagon is already rolling, rolling.
- And - shooting, chases, dangers.
“If you prefer a Bentley to a Jaguar, and a Browning High Power to a Colt Python, and you’ve heard a landmine rumble with a heavy bass, we’ll have something to talk about.
- I really want to be rich.
- That's what it's about. I would kill the one who invented poverty.
“There must still be a terrible secret, and in the end it must be revealed.
“You have no idea what a terrible secret this is, my soul. And we can only reveal it together - and only at the very end.
And laugh, huh?
- Neighing is sacred. Laughter is different: ha-ha-ha, ho-ho-ho, he-he-he, hee-hee-hee, gee-gee-gee, bru-ha-ha; and from tickling.
- It hurts a lot, huh. Isn't there a cheap advertising call in all this?
- Not at all, said the count, and threw the countess onto the piano. On the central square of Tel Aviv there is a monument to Yuri Gagarin: he was the first to say:
Go! - and the Jewish emigration from the USSR began. Pray and let's go.
Forty centuries look at us from the height of the Egyptian pyramids. Donkeys and troubadours - in the middle!
The protagonist of this book is a young romantic and adventurer who survived a tragic love. Or rather, he did not survive it, because he was shot.
He was charged with murder and espionage, and his guilt was fully proven. The reason for the murder was temper, espionage - love, and arrest - stupidity. That is, as usual, one had nothing to do with the other.
He lived in a city that no longer exists, called Leningrad, in a country that no longer exists, called the Union of Soviets. It was the largest and most formidable empire in the world, lasting only seventy years, fighting several huge wars, and wiping out a quarter of its population. She had the most powerful army in the world, the best tanks and machine guns, and the most beautiful women.
All its inhabitants were state slaves. They were obliged to work all their lives for the state and had no property. At the same time, they were patriots, they loved their Motherland and considered it the best in the world. And for fun, they drank a forty-degree solution of ethyl alcohol in water, called vodka.
Those who did not want to work were exiled to hard labor in Siberia. In Siberia, there are endless dense forests, snow and severe frosts.
Under the fear of hard labor, they were forbidden to have weapons so that they could not resist the authorities, and it was forbidden to travel abroad and communicate with foreigners in general, so that they would not accidentally find out that people live better in other countries.
On holidays they sang the National Song from the merry movie Circus: I don't know of any other country where people breathe so freely. The dictator of the empire ordered that the most important of the arts for them was cinema.
But since the huge empire occupied a sixth of the entire earth's land, some young strong men traveled from one outskirts to another, to deserts, mountains, tundra and forests, lived there among the local peoples and often changed jobs. So they satisfied the craving for travel, change and the exotic.
There were almost no representatives of the authorities there, and people themselves resolved disputes according to their own laws.
One summer, our hero worked as a cattle driver in the wild mountains of Altai. The cattle car is a beggar, unarmed cowboy on a bad horse.
And there was an overnight stay near the village, a drinking bout with local guys around the fire, a quarrel and an honest duel with knives.
And in the winter, returning to his native Leningrad, he met a girl and fell in love for the first time in his life. She looked like an Italian movie star. She had a slender figure, high breasts, a beautiful voice, golden hair, a childish face and huge shining brown eyes with shaggy eyelashes.
She graduated from university. And she agreed to marry him. And she even took him to meet her parents in Moscow.
Her father was a two-star admiral. He was commander of the naval aviation of the Soviet Air Force. He looked like a famous film actor. He lived in a huge apartment, where there were four telephones in the hall with the skin of a polar bear. The green telephone reported every six hours on combat duty in the air of Soviet strategic bombers with hydrogen bombs near the American borders.
Our hero was surprised at the warm welcome. After all, he was an unprofitable groom: young, poor, unemployed, and in addition a Jew.
The bride turned out to be a lesbian. She lived with her beloved friend. Her parents held backward heterosexual views. They were terribly worried and tried to separate them, and already dreamed of passing her off as any normal man.
They wanted to put their friend in a lunatic asylum for sexual deviations. The girls came up with a defensive plan. Secondly, to give out a beauty for averting eyes in marriage. And firstly, to collect compromising material on dad, in which case, secretly forward it to American newspapers. Then a scandal, the admiral will be expelled from the army and handed over to the tribunal.
It was a drama for everyone involved. The groom was ready to eliminate the opponent, but he felt powerless in front of the rival. He lost his nerve: he could not think well, cried and was ready for anything.
The bride was spying on dad, and the groom was taking the papers to a friend of his friend who had relatives abroad. So thought up a cautious and prudent girlfriend.
But the acquaintance was recruited by both the 2nd department of the CIA and the 4th department of the KGB. Having received a valuable piece of information, the Americans then, for their own purposes, ordered him to surrender the company to the Russians. Everyone was arrested.
But the groom managed to escape. He was in hiding for three months. Counterintelligence was helpless.
Then he himself appeared and surrendered. He took all the blame and told everything about himself. He did not want to live without his beloved and could not.
It was a summer night at the cottage.
In a small room, a pot-bellied samovar stood on a table by the window and looked into the sky, singing fervently:
Do you notice, teapot, that the moon is extremely in love with the samovar?
The fact is that people forgot to cover the samovar pipe with a stew and left, leaving the kettle on the burner; there were a lot of coals in the samovar, but little water - so it boiled, showing off to everyone the brilliance of its copper sides.
The teapot was old, with a crack on its side, and was very fond of teasing the samovar. He, too, began to boil; he didn’t like it, - so he lifted his stigma up and hissed at the samovar, urging him on:
The moon Looks down on you, Like an eccentric, - So much for you!
The samovar snorts the ferry and grumbles:
Not at all. She and I are neighbors. Even a few relatives: Both are made of copper, But she is duller than me, This red-haired moon, - There are spots on her! Oh, what a braggart you are, Even listening is unpleasant! the kettle hissed, also releasing hot steam from the stigma. This little samovar was indeed very fond of showing off; he considered himself clever, handsome, he had long wanted the moon to be removed from the sky and made of it a tray for him.
Forsisto snorting, as if he did not hear what the kettle said to him, sings to himself with all his might:
Phew, I'm hot! Phew, how powerful I am! If I want to - I'll jump like a ball, To the moon above the clouds!
And the kettle hisses:
Here, if you please, speak With such a special person. Why boil water in vain. You - jump, try!
The samovar became so hot that it turned blue all over and trembled, buzzing:
I'll boil a little more, And when I get bored, I'll immediately jump out the window And marry the moon!
So they both boiled and boiled, making it difficult for everyone who was on the table to sleep. The teapot teases:
She's round you. But there are no coals in it, - the samovar answers.
The blue creamer, from which all the cream had been poured, said to the empty glass sugar bowl:
Everything is empty, everything is empty! Tired of these two! Yes, their chatter Annoys me too, - answered the sugar bowl in a sweet voice. She was fat, broad and very funny, but the creamer was so-so, a hunchbacked gentleman of a dull character with one handle; he always said something sad: Ah, - he said, - Everywhere is empty, everywhere is dry, In a samovar, on the moon.
The sugar bowl, shivering, shouted:
And a fly crawled into me And tickles the walls to me ... Oh, oh, I'm afraid That I'll laugh now! It will be strange - To hear glassy laughter ... - the creamer said sadly.
The filthy extinguisher woke up and rang:
Ding! Who is it hissing? What are the conversations? Even the whale sleeps at night, And it's almost midnight!
But, looking at the samovar, she got frightened and rings:
Ay, people have all gone To sleep or hang around, But my samovar Can unsolder! How could they forget about me, stew? Well, they'll have to scratch their heads now!
Then the cups woke up and let's rattle:
We are modest cups, We don't care! All these manners We know for a long time! We are neither cold nor hot, We are used to everything! The braggart of the samovar, And we do not believe him.
The kettle growled:
F-fu, how hot, I'm desperately hot. It's not accidental, it's extraordinary!
And - burst!
And the samovar felt really bad: the water in it had all boiled away a long time ago, and it was hot, its tap was unsoldered and hung like a drunkard’s nose, one handle was also dislocated, but he was still brave and buzzed, looking at the moon:
Oh, if she were clearer, If she didn’t hide during the day, I would share Water and fire with her! She would then live with me without being bored, And it would always rain From tea!
He was almost unable to utter words and leaned to one side, but still muttered:
And if during the day she has to go to bed, So that her bottom shines brighter at night, - I could take on myself day and night to take on the Duties of the sun! And I will give more light and warmth to the earth, After all, I am hotter and younger than him! To shine both night and day is beyond his years, - And it's so easy for a copper face!
The extinguisher was delighted, rolling on the table and ringing:
Ah, that's very cute! It's very flattering! I would put out the sun, Oh, how interesting!
But here - crack! - the samovar broke into pieces, the tap pecked into the rinsing cup and broke it, the pipe with the lid stuck out, swayed, swayed and fell on its side, breaking off the handle of the creamer; the stew, frightened, rolled back to the edge of the table and mutters:
Look: people always Complain about their fate, And they forgot to put the stew on the pipe!
And the cups, fearing nothing, laugh and sing:
Once upon a time there was a samovar, Small, but ardent, And one day they didn’t cover the Samovar with a stew! There was a strong heat in it, And there was little water; The samovar was soldered, - There he is dear, There and the road-ah!
NOTES
SAMOVAR
story
First published in the collection “Yolka. A book for young children, edition "Sail", Petrograd, .
The tale was written by M. Gorky in 1913, as evidenced by the author's note on the manuscript.
The fairy tale was not included in collected works.
Published according to the text of the collection "Yolka", verified with the author's manuscript (Archive of A.M. Gorky).
Maxim Gorky (Alexey Maksimovich Peshkov)
It was a summer night at the cottage.
In a small room, a pot-bellied samovar stood on a table by the window and looked into the sky, singing fervently:
Do you notice, teapot, that the moon
Extremely in love with a samovar?
The fact is that people forgot to cover the samovar pipe with a stew and left, leaving the kettle on the burner; there were a lot of coals in the samovar, but little water - so it boiled, showing off to everyone the brilliance of its copper sides.
The teapot was old, with a crack on its side, and was very fond of teasing the samovar. He, too, began to boil; he didn’t like it, - so he lifted his stigma up and hissed at the samovar, urging him on:
moon on you
Looks down
Like a weirdo
Here's to you!
The samovar snorts the ferry and grumbles:
Not at all. She and I are neighbors
Even a few relatives:
Both are made of copper!
But she dims me
This redhead moon
Look at the stains on her!
Oh what a braggart you are
Even listening is unpleasant!
the kettle hissed, also exhaling hot steam from its stigma.
This little samovar was indeed very fond of showing off; he considered himself clever, handsome, he had long wanted the moon to be removed from the sky and made of it a tray for him.
Forsisto snorting, as if he did not hear what the teapot said to him, sings to himself with all his might:
Phew, I'm hot!
Phew, how powerful I am!
I want to - I'll jump like a ball,
To the moon above the clouds!
And the kettle hisses:
Here, please speak
With a special one.
Why boil water in vain,
You - jump, try!
The samovar was so hot that it turned blue all over and trembled and buzzed:
I'll sip a little more
And when I get bored
I'll jump right out the window
And marry the moon!
So they both boiled and boiled, making it difficult for everyone who was on the table to sleep. The teapot teases:
She's round you.
But there are no coals in it,
the samovar answers.
The blue creamer, from which all the cream had been poured, said to the empty glass sugar bowl:
Everything is empty, everything is empty!
Tired of these two!
Yes, their chatter
Annoys me too
Ah, he said
Everywhere is empty, everywhere is dry,
In a samovar, on the moon.
The sugar bowl, shivering, shouted:
And a fly got into me
And tickles the walls to me ...
Ooh, ooh, I'm afraid
What am I laughing about now!
It will be strange
Hear glassy laughter...
the creamer said gloomily.
The filthy extinguisher woke up and rang:
Ding! Who's hissing!
What are the conversations?
Even the whale sleeps at night
And it's almost midnight!
But, looking at the samovar, she got frightened and rings:
Ay, the people are all gone
Sleep or wander
But my samovar
It might melt!
How could they forget
About me, stew?
Well, they'll have to now
Scratch the backs!
Then the cups woke up and let's rattle:
We are humble cups
We don't care anyway!
All these manners
We know for a long time!
We are neither cold nor hot
We are used to everything!
Bouncer samovarko,
And we do not believe him!
The kettle growled:
Phew, how hot
I'm desperately hot.
It's no coincidence
This is extremely!
And burst!
And the samovar felt really bad: the water in it had all boiled away a long time ago, and it was hot, its tap was unsoldered and hung like a drunkard’s nose, one handle was also dislocated, but he was still brave and buzzed, looking at the moon:
Ah, be clearer
Don't hide during the day
I would share with her
Water and fire!
She is with me then
I would live without being bored
And it would always rain
He was almost unable to utter words and leaned to one side, but still muttered:
And if during the day she has to go to bed,
So that at night her bottom shone brighter,
I could take over day and night
Duties of the Sun!
And I will give more light and warmth to the earth,
After all, I'm hotter and younger than him!
Shine both night and day beyond his years,
And it's so easy for a copper face!
The extinguisher was delighted, rolling on the table and ringing:
Ah, that's very cute!
It's very flattering
I would put out the sun!
Ah, how interesting!
But here - crack! - the samovar broke into pieces, the tap pecked into the rinsing cup and broke it, the pipe with the lid stuck out, swayed, swayed and fell on its side, breaking off the handle of the creamer; the stew, frightened, rolled back to the edge of the table and mutters:
Look, people are forever
Complain about fate
Forgot the stew
Put on a pipe!
And the cups, fearing nothing, laugh and sing:
Once upon a time there was a samovar
Small, but ardent,
And once they didn't cover
Samovar with a stew!
He had a strong fever
And there is little water;
The samovar broke down
He is dear there
It was a summer night at the cottage.In a small room, a pot-bellied samovar stood on a table by the window and looked into the sky, singing fervently:
Do you notice, teapot, that the moon
Extremely in love with a samovar?
The fact is that people forgot to cover the samovar pipe with a stew and left, leaving the kettle on the burner; there were a lot of coals in the samovar, but little water - so it boiled, showing off to everyone the brilliance of its copper sides.
The teapot was old, with a crack on its side, and was very fond of teasing the samovar. He, too, began to boil; he didn’t like it, so he raised his snout and hissed at the samovar, urging him on:
moon on you
Looks down
Like a weirdo -
Here's to you!
The samovar snorts the ferry and grumbles:
Not at all. She and I are neighbors
Even a few relatives:
Both are made of copper!
But she is duller than me,
This red-haired moon, -
Look at the stains on her!
Oh what a braggart you are
Even listening is unpleasant! -
The kettle hissed, also releasing hot steam from the stigma.
This little samovar was indeed very fond of showing off; he considered himself clever, handsome, he had long wanted the moon to be removed from the sky and made of it a tray for him.
Forsisto snorting, as if he did not hear what the teapot said to him, sings to himself with all his might:
Phew, I'm hot!
Phew, how powerful I am!
I want to - I'll jump like a ball,
To the moon above the clouds!
And the kettle hisses:
Here, please speak
With a special one.
Why boil water in vain,
You - jump, try!
The samovar was so hot that it turned blue all over and trembled and buzzed:
I'll sip a little more
And when I get bored -
I'll jump right out the window
And marry the moon!
So they both boiled and boiled, making it difficult for everyone who was on the table to sleep. The teapot teases:
She's round you.
But there are no coals in it, -
the samovar answers.
The blue creamer, from which all the cream had been poured, said to the empty glass sugar bowl:
Everything is empty, everything is empty!
Tired of these two!
Yes, their chatter
It annoys me too...
“Ah,” he said, “
Everywhere is empty, everywhere is dry,
In a samovar, on the moon.
The sugar bowl, shivering, shouted:
And a fly got into me
And tickles the walls to me ...
Ooh, ooh, I'm afraid
What am I laughing about now!
It will be strange -
Hear glassy laughter ... -
The creamer said sadly.
The filthy extinguisher woke up and rang:
Ding! Who's hissing!
What are the conversations?
Even the whale sleeps at night
And it's almost midnight!
But, looking at the samovar, she got frightened and rings:
Ay, the people are all gone
Sleep or wander
But my samovar
It might melt!
How could they forget
About me, stew?
Well, they'll have to now
Scratch the backs!
Then the cups woke up and let's rattle:
We are humble cups
We don't care anyway!
All these manners
We know for a long time!
We are neither cold nor hot
We are used to everything!
Bouncer samovarko,
And we do not believe him!
The kettle growled:
Phew, how hot
I'm desperately hot.
It's no coincidence
This is extremely!
And burst!
And the samovar felt really bad: the water in it had all boiled away a long time ago, and it was hot, its tap was unsoldered and hung like a drunkard’s nose, one handle was also dislocated, but he was still brave and buzzed, looking at the moon:
Ah, be clearer
Don't hide during the day
I would share with her
Water and fire!
She is with me then
I would live without being bored
And it would always rain
From tea!
He was almost unable to utter words and leaned to one side, but still muttered:
And if during the day she has to go to bed,
So that at night her bottom shone brighter, -
I could take over day and night
Duties of the Sun!
And I will give more light and warmth to the earth,
After all, I'm hotter and younger than him!
Shine both night and day for him beyond his years, -
And it's so easy for a copper face!
The extinguisher was delighted, rolling on the table and ringing:
Ah, that's very cute!
It's very flattering -
I would put out the sun!
Ah, how interesting!
But here - crack! - the samovar broke into pieces, the tap pecked into the rinsing cup and broke it, the pipe with the lid stuck out, swayed, swayed and fell on its side, breaking off the handle of the creamer; the stew, frightened, rolled back to the edge of the table and mutters:
Look, people are forever
Complain about fate
Forgot the stew
Put on a pipe!
And the cups, fearing nothing, laugh and sing:
Once upon a time there was a samovar
Small, but ardent,
And once they didn't cover
Samovar with a stew!
He had a strong fever
And there is little water;
The samovar broke down, -
He is dear there
There and do-ro-ha-ah!
First published in the collection “Yolka. Book for young children
publication "Sail", Petrograd, .
It was a summer night at the cottage.
In a small room, a pot-bellied samovar stood on a table by the window and looked into the sky, singing fervently:
Do you notice, teapot, that the moon
Extremely in love with a samovar?
The fact is that people forgot to cover the samovar pipe with a stew and left, leaving the kettle on the burner; there were a lot of coals in the samovar, but little water - so it boiled, showing off to everyone the brilliance of its copper sides.
The teapot was old, with a crack on its side, and was very fond of teasing the samovar. He, too, began to boil; he didn’t like it, so he raised his snout and hissed at the samovar, urging him on:
moon on you
Looks down
Like a weirdo -
Here you go - on!
The samovar snorts the ferry and grumbles:
Not at all. She and I are neighbors.
Even a few relatives:
Both are made of copper
But she dims me
This red-haired moon, -
Look at the stains on her!
Oh what a braggart you are
Even listening is unpleasant!
the teapot hissed, also exhaling hot steam from its stigma. This little samovar was indeed very fond of showing off; he considered himself smart, handsome, he had long wanted the moon to be removed from the sky and made of it a tray for him.
Forsisto snorting, as if he did not hear what the teapot said to him, sings to himself with all his might:
Phew, I'm hot!
Phew, how powerful I am!
I want to - I'll jump like a ball,
To the moon above the clouds!
And the kettle hisses:
Here, please speak
With a special one.
Why boil water in vain.
You - jump, try!
The samovar became so hot that it turned blue all over and trembled, buzzing:
I'll sip a little more
And when I get bored -
I'll jump right out the window
And marry the moon!
So they both boiled and boiled, making it difficult for everyone who was on the table to sleep. The teapot teases:
She's round you.
But there are no coals in it,
- answers the samovar.
The blue creamer, from which all the cream had been poured, said to the empty glass sugar bowl:
Everything is empty, everything is empty!
Tired of these two!
Yes, their chatter
Annoys me too
Ah, he said,
Everywhere is empty, everywhere is dry,
In a samovar, on the moon.
The sugar bowl, shivering, shouted:
And a fly got into me
And tickles the walls to me ...
Ooh, ooh, I'm afraid
What am I laughing about now!
It will be strange -
Hear glassy laughter...
the creamer said unhappily.
The filthy extinguisher woke up and rang:
Ding! Who is it hissing?
What are the conversations?
Even the whale sleeps at night
And it's almost midnight!
But, looking at the samovar, she got frightened and rings:
Ay, the people are all gone
Sleep or wander
But my samovar
It might melt!
How could they forget
About me, stew?
Well, now they have to
Scratch the backs!
Then the cups woke up and let's rattle:
We are humble cups
We don't care!
All these manners
We know for a long time!
We are neither cold nor hot
We are used to everything!
Bouncer samovarko,
And we don't believe him.
The kettle growled:
Phew, how hot
I'm desperately hot.
It's no coincidence
This is extremely!
And - burst!
And the samovar felt really bad: the water in it had all boiled away a long time ago, and it was hot, its tap was unsoldered and hung like a drunkard’s nose, one handle was also dislocated, but he was still brave and buzzed, looking at the moon:
Ah, be clearer
Don't hide during the day
I would share with her
Water and fire!
She is with me then
I would live without being bored
And it would always rain
From tea!
He was almost unable to utter words and leaned to one side, but still muttered:
And if during the day she has to go to bed,
So that at night her bottom shone brighter, -
I could take over day and night
Duties of the Sun!
And I will give more light and warmth to the earth,
After all, I'm hotter and younger than him!
Shine both night and day beyond his years, -
And it's so easy for a copper face!
The extinguisher was delighted, rolling on the table and ringing:
Ah, that's very cute!
It's very flattering!
I would put out the sun
Ah, how interesting!
But here - crack! - the samovar broke into pieces, the tap pecked into the rinsing cup and broke it, the pipe with the lid stuck out, swayed, swayed and fell on its side, breaking off the handle of the creamer; the stew, frightened, rolled back to the edge of the table and mutters:
Look, people are forever
Complain about fate
Forgot the stew
Put on a pipe!
And the cups, fearing nothing, laugh and sing:
Once upon a time there was a samovar
Small, but ardent,
And once they didn't cover
Samovar with a stew!
He had a strong fever
And there is little water;
The samovar broke down, -
He is dear there
That's where the road is!