Художественное
To create is to kill death
R. Rolland
The task of art is to excite the hearts
K. Helvetius
The history of art is a history of rebirths
S. Butler
From the book “Three Minutes” (Stories. Mn., 2014)
Theater sketch
“Well, okay, okay,” Soloviev said into the phone, “don’t fiddle around, it will grind – it will be flour....
“Are you completely stupid,” came Karpyuk’s intermittent voice on the phone, I’m explaining to you in plain text that nothing is working out, everything is collapsing... The little woman is not pulling at all, she’s a loser, you understand, she’s a loser... But what can I say, - The voice on the phone completely dropped - who is to blame if not me...
“Well, well,” Solovyov said, maintaining maximum cheerfulness in his voice, “we need to hold on... We are masters - ha!...
An indistinct grumbling was heard at the other end of the line and the connection was cut off. Solovyov threw the cigarette into his mouth and stared out the window.
The phone rang again. Solovyov picked up the phone and, hearing the familiar sniffling, said wearily:
- What else. What do you want? After an interval, Karpyuk’s distant voice was heard, but with a questioning intonation. - Come by two, okay?
- Do you think I smell something? - asked Soloviev. At this time, the door opened and the intern Lenochka Korolevich began to quickly approach the desk of the head of the department. “Your task is completed,” she blurted out while running. Soloviev grimaced. “Be strong, Karpyuk,” he said into the phone, “we will support you in any way we can.” I hung up and took a drag...
- Who are you, a girl? – he asked after half a minute.
“Like someone, a trainee,” said Lenochka. - As if you don’t know...
“I know that, I know,” said Soloviev, “but I constantly doubt it.” And this, naturally, is connected with your behavior, mademoiselle...
Lenochka looked Solovyov in the face. Concentrated blue eyes behind glasses on a freckled face, a thin figure, all in anticipation. The eyes showed a tendency to become filled with moisture.
“We agreed, mademoiselle,” Soloviev said, carefully averting his gaze, “no moisture, no floods...”
– Are you an honest girl? However, you don’t have to answer... And my humble remark concerns your appearance here. Didn't your mother teach you to knock on the door before entering?..
The tube in Solovyov’s right palm came to life again and began to gurgle... He listened for a while and muttered:
- Well, it’s not scary. Not the end of the world.
The bubbling increased by another 2 degrees. Soloviev held out for another minute or two, then raised his voice, trying to make it sound convincing:
- Agreed. He said that I would, so I definitely would... He hung up and looked at the intern. And she's at him. She saw in front of her a man of good middle age with dark brown hair, gray hair at the temples and gray, as if smoky, eyes. When he got angry, they narrowed and became steel. When he laughed, they expanded and turned blue. The movements also had a kind of double set: when Soloviev was tired, they acquired smoothness and slowness, when he was fresh and rested, they acquired sharpness. Thin enough, the only flaw, Lena thought, is not too tall.
“These are the things,” Solovyov rumbled, “we’ll postpone the debate about your upbringing, Elena, until tomorrow.”
- But, Vyacheslav Andreich, I wrote...
- Tomorrow, all tomorrow...
– You said that the text needs to be looked through, verified...
– So, first of all, you should look through it, check it.
- So I’ve already done everything! And now you have to look through it, go through it... And if there are errors...
Solovyov poked his cigarette into the ashtray and put it out.
- So, so, dear friend... Firstly, I told you thousands of times that no one in this life owes anyone anything... if you don’t give up your provincial habits and don’t internalize this thesis, you and I have nothing more communicate... Go back to your capital city of Borisov... Secondly, there are circumstances in the world that correct a person’s behavior, and this cannot be changed... In short, my soul, I again accuse you of provincialism and once again provincialism. ..
-Where are you going?
- As you understand, girl, I don’t have to give an account at all, especially to young and slender people like you... Especially to those who have committed a crime... But still, I’ll tell you privately - I’m going to visit the place where my heart is buried... Have you read William Saroyan, miss?
- Who, who?
– Everything is clear to the court... Well, at least Burns?
– I know... Robert Burns, English poet. We studied in English at the university...
- Well, firstly, not English, but Scottish... And secondly, can you immediately reproduce for me - “my heart is in the mountains”? Then I will forgive you everything, my dear bowl, everything, everything...
- How how?
– Listen carefully, I quote for certain: “My heart is in the mountains, to this day I am there, following the trail of a deer, running through the mountains. I run after a deer, I shoot a goat, my heart is in the mountains, and I myself am below.”...
- I don’t know how to say it in English...
– Don’t make me strain my old brain. Besides, I don’t like English too much - I’m a Francophile... but you need to know this, my dear misska... May Hart from In Mansha... I hope I haven’t distorted the original too much.
- You are not an old man... And don’t call me misska...
– What should I call you now? Mademoiselle, Froilian, Senorita?.. However, I am probably a million years behind the rhythm of modern life... Nowadays a completely different vocabulary is in use... Yes, I remembered - carrots. Let's assume that you are my carrot...
– Why carrots?
- This is what it means to live in a distant province. Moreover, we need to introduce a correction for our Belarusian surroundings... in general, you dear misska, are infinitely far from the first detachment of our post-Soviet youth... She, however, is not far from the cult films of the late 80s, such as “Assol”. So, my poor provincial child, master modern vocabulary... listen to the current of time... And you will become an ace of the pen... Perhaps I will still live... Well, now, bye, bye...
He grabbed a folder that was lying on the edge of the table and with a sharp movement threw a newspaper and several leaves into it. Then he felt the inside pocket of his jacket and calmed down: the handles were in place. Now he was ready to go.
“Take me with you, Vyacheslav Andreich, please,” Lena asked, “I will behave quietly...
Already at the beginning of her sentence, Soloviev shook his head negatively, but the intonation of her voice made him stop.
“Well, please,” Lena repeated the request.
– What about working on the text?
“I’ll have time, I’ll still have time to check it out before tomorrow.”
– And will you behave quietly? She nodded her head. Okay, stuffing cigarettes into his pocket, Solovyov decided. - Just look: everything is under your responsibility, misska.
***
The hall was in semi-darkness. Rather, it would have been completely dark if it hadn't been for the light source: a small table lamp that stood on a round table in the aisle between the 10th and 12th rows. There is a chair next to the table.
– And why the lamp? Lena asked.
"For the director,– Solovyov replied. – He needs to take the necessary notes at the rehearsal, see the notebook on the table. And indeed, there was a thick notebook, a rod was lying next to it, but there was no director. He was probably on a semi-dark stage; several figures were swarming there with the curtain half-closed, it was impossible to make out from afar.
– Here, – said Solovyov, sitting down on the first row after the aisle, – 12th row, behind the table – take a deep breath, my friend, you should smell the wings, have you ever been to the theater, girl?
– Well, are you just deliberately offending? Of course, even in the first year – both at the Kupala Theater and at the Opera House... And at home, in Borisov...
– Where is the studio theater?...
Lena sniffed resentfully.
–Well, all right, all right," Solovyov said conciliatingly, "let's not talk about sad things... But really, open your eyes, dilate your nostrils, feel, smell the wings...
He half turned to look at her. She opened and closed her eyes and, indeed, dilating her nostrils, breathed deeply and convulsively...
– Okay, – Solovyov grinned.
But then a scandal broke out on the stage. Karpyuk, disheveled, shouted almost continuously, taking off and putting on his glasses every minute. His long, ungainly figure arched, and then suddenly froze.
The actors – there were three of them – initially tried to contradict, then subsided, clearly not hoping to stop the release of the director's anger.
Finally, apparently, a truce was established and, waving his long arms, Karpyuk rushed into the hall, quickly moving his long legs. Before plopping down on a chair in front of the table, he abruptly bucked his head, pulled his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with a characteristic movement and, seeing Solovyov, suddenly broke into a smile.
The smile was open, somewhat defenseless and therefore unexpected.
– Slava, you came after all. Thank you very much...
– Okay, whatever... Let's count ourselves as glory, our own people, in the end. Yes, please meet my dear carrot, Miss Lenochka...
Lenochka shot an indignant glance at Solovyov, but there was no time for a decent answer...
- Yes? – the interrogative intonation also made Karpyuk beautiful, especially in contrast to the seething that he had just staged on stage...
Karpyuk sat down on a chair, waved his handkerchief, and movement began on the stage. Lena wanted to say something, but Solovyov pressed his finger to his lips, and then bent down to her ear: "Now there is no sound... Only in a whisper and in my ear."..
In the diffused light that appeared, an episode from French life was being played out on the stage. A flighty, attractive girl flirted, maneuvered between elderly fans and a young admirer, without depriving any of the applicants of hope.
The actress who played the girl was tall, fair-haired, pretty, and outwardly it seemed that she was playing a game. Lena liked her movements insinuating, feline, in her opinion feminine irresistible.
– No, no and no – Karpyuk suddenly roared. The very next moment, his voice rang in her ears like a fistula – "it's like some kind of Vitas," Lena thought with fear.
– Everything is outwardly, outwardly, – shouted Karpyuk – Nina, when you drop these things of yours... And you, Boris Ivanovich (the remark referred to an elderly actor) do not play along with her, do not multiply the number of stamps...
He bent over the table, wrote down some phrase, then dropped the pen and rushed forward to the stage.
– And what is he, – Lena said in a whisper, – it was so good...
– Not really... Solovyov also replied in a whisper. – The director is right… At the theater (you have to say in Russian "at the theater" - you know, the intern) ... There is such a word – "authenticity"... However, you won't understand it right now. I'll explain later...
The director was already on stage explaining something fervently to the actors (only individual exclamations were heard in the hall), it was clear that two actors were nodding their heads, the actress did not agree.
Karpyuk returned to his table, sweating, and shouted:
– Let's get started. Without rocking. Tolik," he jerked his head to the right, "light, please, on the left side of the stage: first the spotlight, then the gun.
Solovyov tilted his head towards Lena and whispered:
– This is the right lighting box. My friend Vasya Pavlenko worked on it when I was seventeen. And I'm on the left.
– You? – the intern was surprised.
– I, I, my soul. You see, there's a big lantern burning there – it's a spotlight. And then there will be a sharp blinding, pinpoint light, in a small circle – it's a gun...
–No, no, and no,– the director roared. – It's not like that. After all, it seems that he explained everything, everything was agreed upon. And – again. – Nina, I "said", no charm, no coquetry, tougher, tougher. And you, Boris Ivanovich, don't play along with her, don't relax... And you, Kozadukhov, on the contrary, nuance understanding and demonstrate affection and attitude.
Young Kozadukhov, tall and smiling, nodded his head in agreement. Boris Ivanovich, People's Artist, spread his hands:
– Is that what we're doing, as agreed? Maybe the intonation is wrong. The heroine, Nina Darenko, is tall, blonde, green–eyed, very attractive (everything is with her!), sullenly silent, pursing her plump lips.
– Nina, – Karpyuk said, restraining his irritation, – everything is in you: you set the tuning fork for the whole mise en scene. We agreed – your heroine is in a split. On the one hand, the feeling is there, she is young, even young still – and she likes her fiance. He is young, handsome and rich; but free expression as the basis of her personality is dearer to her than anything else. And if you really decide to sell out, then by and large – on a super–large scale, then Boris Ivanovich appears. On his part, everything is simple and unambiguous: he buys. Rather, he seeks to buy a young, infinitely attractive creature for him... And you do not need to depict this duality in thick strokes, as you are doing now, but give it unobtrusively, as if by stealth, then it will be more convincing and much more beautiful. But that's enough... "Words, words, words.".. Have begun...
And they started again, and stopped three more times... Twice Karpyuk ran onto the stage, puffed up like a python, showed the whole mise en scene in faces and gestures, moaned, threw up his long arms and thus from afar resembled (sometimes turning into a twin) the young Kozadukhov, and ran from the left box to the middle of the stage. The right one was not occupied. And in one of Karpyuk's "raids" Solovyov beckoned Lena to follow him to the right, darkened backstage. When the girl decided to run across to get to him, he, having already climbed onto the stage, stretched out his hand to her and pulled her towards him.
–Smell it," he said, "bringing the edge of the stage to Lena's face. Breathe in, breathe in... She inhaled. It didn't seem to be anything special –it smelled like ordinary cloth, slightly moldy...
...And Karpyuk has already attacked the "general of the world" for the third time:
– Well, Anatoly, you don't watch your lighting at all. Come here to me, look from the hall – no background, light, semi–light, and most importantly – where the light is in focus.
"But there's a gun in there," Anatoly Drobyshevsky, the head of the electrical workshop, grumbled, mincing after the director to a table in the middle of the stalls. – As for electric lights, we don't have them at all anymore – saving money. "The theater must save on everything, otherwise it will not survive," the theater's chief electrician was clearly quoting the director or the chief of staff.
– And here the savings, when the gun is not enough, the actors' faces are in the dark, – Karpyuk began to start up again.
– I fixed the gun, – the head of the electrical department tried to object...
– How did you fix it, look from here... Well, look at it…
–Okay," Drobyshevsky muttered, heading to the right wing and passing by Solovyov and Lena, "I'll be in charge of the electric light myself. If only it will save the performance...
Solovyov and Lena crept back and sat down in their row, behind Karpyuk. The director was now sorting out the relationship with the sound engineer; he claimed that the French music that Karpyuk had approved yesterday sounded, while the director was sincerely surprised that he had chosen this particular music.
– Pick a more melodious one. If you can't find Kosma or Moria from the orchestra, look at the Georgians, they have it...
– My God, – Lena whispered in Solovyov's ear, – how to combine all this into one...
–This is the theater, my dear," the boss replied. "From the inside, for real, at the hour of the premiere... What do you think, the smell of the wings?
But Lena didn't have time to answer. Karpyuk's voice shot up, amplified by a microphone. And once again everything began to stir on the stage, the rehearsal continued...
***
They were sitting in a small basement cafe near the theater, on Volodarskaya Street, drinking coffee with cognac; Karpyuk was humming continuously and mournfully, Lena began to get bored.
– You see, – Karpyuk started the broken record over and over again, – she is absurd, and because of her nonsense, and out of a desire for self-expression at any cost, she ruins everything...
– But it's natural, – said Solovyov, – she's a star, – old, as they say in the Far West...
– More like a starlet, – grinned Karpyuk, – who knows this star outside Minsk and its environs?...
– Well, for a start, it's not bad – Minsk and its surroundings...
All three of them, including Lena, looked around. Nina Darenko was rapidly approaching them, irresistible and seductive. Her white hair fell in garlands over her shoulders, and her green eyes were expertly tinted and looked huge. A light light-blue cloak could not hide a thin waist, but the actress seemed quite wide in the hips.
"You're eavesdropping, as always," Karpyuk reproached sullenly... – It's just that I have sharp hearing, and you're shouting at the whole hall... She went to the table, Solovyov got up and brought a chair, Nina sat down at the table between him and Karpyuk...
–Well," she said kindly, "Vitaly Palych, what else do you have to say about me?"...
Karpyuk, oddly enough, has already become a little tipsy.
– What do I have? "What is it?" he asked. – What can I say – you're an egoist and a bitch...
–Yes, yes, yes,– Nina said softly. "It's all true, the whole truth... As always, you are absolutely right, my director...
"Don't you dare call me that," Karpyuk breathed. Lena beckoned to the boss with her finger, and when he leaned over to her, she whispered, "Oh, I'm afraid, Vyacheslav Andreevich, maybe we should go from here?"...
Solovyov sighed:
"No, honey, you can't do that right now. Well, believe me, there's no way...
He called the waiter and ordered another cup of coffee and 150 grams of cognac.
"And don't act like an offended little girl," Karpyuk said quickly, turning his head to the side. – You don't have to try, I'm not looking at you anyway...
"Don't look, don't look," Nina said even more gently, "but you feel it anyway. Then, which one of us, in that case, is the little one...
Karpyuk turned sharply to her.
– And why don't you make the transition in the second mise en scene? All your stubbornness. Always stubborn," he repeated fiercely. – It turns out that you are just a cocotte, definitely a cocotte. And she has always been like this... that is, initially...
– Vitalik, dear... You don't know everything about women. Even a plain girl in the shower can initially be a cocoon...
– I don't need any distractions or equivocations right now... And don't you dare call me that... The director tells you that this is the image of your heroine – it is initially, as you put it, the image of an inquisitive, impetuous girl who has her own view of life, her own principles... And here circumstances suddenly came flooding in, and she was forced, yes, forced to pretend to be a cocoon...
– But I am...
– And I don't want to listen... – Karpyuk was already shouting almost in his voice... They have already drunk everything that was brought to them. The smoke was already billowing in three layers over their table; Nina had lit a cigarette too, and now all three of them were smoking. The atmosphere became more and more heated, and then Solovyov said:
– Well, what to do... Let's go to my place...
While Karpyuk was paying the taxi driver, and Nina, supporting him, slowly led him to the 3rd floor, Solovyov and Lena had already jumped into the apartment and he, having led her to the kitchen, hastily explained the situation.
– There is no way to let him go now in this state. I've known him for a million years and I'm telling you in my heart. Well, settle down here in the kitchen, be the hostess. And I'm going to mag, I need to buy something.
Lena looked around. There was a small narrow table in the kitchen, with three stools around it. There was a large saucepan on the gas stove, two frying pans on the other, one on top of the other. There was a small cupboard above the kitchen sink for drying dishes. There was a refrigerator in the corner, obviously not the latest production, with a small transistor receiver on it.
"But it's spacious," Solovyov said, following her gaze.
– Okay, I ran; there are potatoes in the bag at the bottom right. Clean it first...
He slipped like a knife through butter between Karpyuk and Nina. The actress was just dragging the director along.
"I'll be right there, at the same hour," he shouted to Nina, running down the stairs. – If anything, Lena will help you.
"Your own burden is not heavy," Nina said through gritted teeth. Karpyuk unexpectedly straightened up. – What kind of burden? Which one is yours?
– Well, if the opposite has spoken out, it means that everything is fine, normal, – Nina said to Lena, who leaned out of the kitchen.
– A moment, dear, I'll attach Vital Palych, I'll help you...
"I don't need to," Lena protested. She already had a potato and a knife in her hands.
– It is necessary, it is necessary... Nina said. – Please, Vitaly Palych, get a job here on the couch, make yourself at home. And we'll go to the kitchen and help the young and slender one...
She pushed Karpyuk to the edge of the sofa (while he fell into a doze again), jumped out into the hallway, jerkily took off her raincoat and a moment later appeared in the kitchen.
What did you say your name was? I'm sorry, there was such tension in the cafe, I didn't hear it...
Up close, she was absolutely irresistible –her green eyes sparkled, her blond hair fell in light streams over her shoulders...
–Lena,– the girl whispered faintly.
– That's a lovely name... Yes, Lena, be more confident, be more honest... Otherwise, you won't achieve anything... Nowhere, nothing...
...When Solovyov came home with bags in both hands, both girls worked wonderfully well in the kitchen. Solovyov looked into the room: Karpyuk was sprawled all over the sofa, one arm was hanging down, he was snoring nervously.
– What about our Meyerhold?
"It fell out of the nest,– Nina replied.
She hung the apron on a nail on the wall and said:
– Did Andreich have a housekeeper?
– Not yet. What are you applying for?
– Well, first of all, as I see it, you already have a young, slender one, and secondly, I may not be enough – with your boyfriend, you see, I got stuck in the end. Yes, Lenochka, I think she'll cook the potatoes, and Andreich, will we go have a smoke, chorus?
In the bathroom, when they lit cigarettes, she suddenly burst into tears:
– I can't do it anymore, Andreevich. Vitalik, of course, is Vitalik and he cannot be different by nature. But when he bites the bit, he doesn't see anything anymore, he doesn't think anything – he bends his own, even if he dies.
– And don't get involved when the director reveals the picture of the world, gives guidance...
– I'm not interfering. At least a word on the stage… You saw it for yourself. I'm silent to myself in a rag...
– You are silent, of course, you are silent... but so expressive... And everyone seems to adjust to your silence, and Vitalik feels it all in his gut... And he's freaking out...
– And you saw all this from the stalls?
– Whatever you want, I swear. From the eleventh row...
"You're strong, though. One word is a critic...
We paused and smoked. Nina took out a handkerchief and wiped away a tear.
– Of course, it's true, it's deeper. He doesn't leave Ellka, even if he cracks...
"Well, fear God,– he said. – How can you put the question like that? After all, Ella is sick. And the son will not understand, and no one will understand... Besides, you know him–a humanoid...
"That's the thing about a humanoid," she snapped, nervously stubbing out her cigarette. – For some, a humanoid, but for me, a knight in armor. There's no way to get it under the visor... To all, then, with human affection, I am the only one who is spat on. No, how many times have I told myself it's time to finish, it's time. Once and for all... After all, I left Sergei Pavlovich...
– Sergey Pavlovich is a film director who is not yet old. And in the process of TV series creations, he will find himself...
– He'll find it, he'll find it. And more than one... The litter... All these girls are like butterflies on a light... But then they all disappear in the same heap.
– Well, darling, nobody shot you...
– I didn't shoot... And this one is your friend. After all, it hangs like a stone around your neck... She approached Solovyov with her eyes and slashed her throat expressively with her palm.
– That's where it hangs...
"But you won't,– he said. – Really, it's a pity, admit it once...
– Oh, I'm so tired of you all...
They came out of the kitchen. Surprisingly, Karpyuk straightened up and sat straight, as if he had swallowed a pin. Lena was already carrying plates of potatoes from the kitchen.
– And I think – where have they gone, – said Karpyuk, stretching out the vowels, – no and no. Only this charming girl.
"And why didn't Your Majesty charm this young charmer?" Nina asked. Her hoarse voice trembled slightly. – They would have received satisfaction, I suppose...
Lena flushed and almost ran into the kitchen. Solovyov followed her, took her by the shoulders, turned her towards him:
– Get used to it, baby, such is the hard theatrical life. Rather, it is near-theatrical, where it smoothly, where it does not smoothly turn into a theatrical one...
– I don't want to, I don't want to... Everything here is fake, everything is artificial...
– Not all of them. Many things, but not all. You'll see for yourself... He pressed his freckled face to his chest, stroked his light brown hair, and repeated in a whisper:
– Nothing, nothing... If it is ground, there will be flour. Everything will work out in the end... Come on, let's strain ourselves one last time... Here, take out the pickles in the refrigerator, down there, and slice them, please. I'll take care of the bread. Well, as they said in the pioneer days – cheerfully-cheerfully...
...When they entered the room with plates in their hands, Karpyuk and Nina, embracing, were a single statue, motionless on the sofa.
"You see," Solovyov said to Lena, –everything has changed... Life is always like this: the ebb and flow...
– Well, well, gentlemen– comrades... Citizens and old ladies. Come back, I beg you, to an active life... Moreover, everything is ready and the sun, we see, welcomes us...
Indeed, a ray of the late April sun, breaking out from under the clouds, lit up the room for a moment, walked along the bookshelf, slid across the TV screen.
Karpyuk and Nina broke away from each other and once again existed in sovereign dimensions.
– Really? Karpyuk asked.
– You can see for yourself. I love you, you old pervert... Otherwise, b...
– As for the pervert, you will answer, – Solovyov said, pouring vodka, – but in general, stop fooling around, it's time to get down to business... Let's drink first to the theater, to our sorrowful deeds...
– Maybe for the acquaintance? – asked Karpyuk, - look how we scared the girl – she's shaking all over...
"Not at all... Lena began.
–Never mind," Solovyov interrupted, "let him tremble a little. It will pass. Everything will pass, as King Solomon used to say... But it will teach you... Actually, I have an idea: let's combine these two toasts: to the theater and to acquaintance. Today our Lenochka joined the theatrical life. No matter how grandiloquent it sounds... Today I inhaled the smell of the wings for the first time... It's worth a lot, and in my opinion, if this virus gets into a person, it's forever. Do you agree?...
– Definitely... – said Karpyuk. Yes, yes, of course," Nina said.
When they began to clink glasses, Lena noticed that everyone was unusually beautiful: Solovyov's certain fullness was brightened up, but his gray eyes shone, and the gray hair on his temples gave nobility, Karpyuk became even taller and looked like Don Quixote, and Nina was simply dazzling, green eyes shone, high breasts emphasized the thinness of the waist...
And again a ray of the April sun slid by, reflected from the TV screen on the glasses, and this seemed to consolidate its participation in the action...
***
In the dead of night, Lena roused Solovyov. He was sleeping on the edge of the sofa, his legs slightly tucked up, she slowly turned him towards her, then bent down and began to kiss him.
"We didn't agree on that," Solovyov whispered without opening his eyes.
...And indeed, before going to bed, Solovyov explained on his fingers and very clearly that it was not part of his plans to violate the innocence of poor girls. He had already had an experience (twice, Solovyov stressed) when he spent nights in bed with women and nothing, nothing happened. He is a man and a gentleman, and he will not take advantage of the position. While saying all this, Solovyov was moving the sofa and making the bed. Karpyuk and Nina retreated behind a bookshelf; groans were soon heard from there.
– Don't pay attention, baby, – said Solovyov, – this is life.
The groans intensified, and the bookshelf began to sway slowly from side to side.
– Hey, people, – Solovyov shouted, – stop destroying furniture... Where else will I earn money on the shelf? Because of our current poverty?
They calmed down behind the shelf, and then Nina's twitter was heard, Karpyuk nodded in agreement...
– You see, in the end, everything tends to harmony... Well, okay, don't hesitate – undress and lie down against the wall, I'm on the edge...
– I'll turn away, no, I'd better go to the bathroom...
When Solovyov returned, she was lying with her face to the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, sniffing intensely. There was also a small movement behind the wall.
– Well, God be with him, – said Solovyov, turning off the TV, – let's fall asleep to this natural noise.
He moved over to Lena, covered himself with a blanket, hugged her and said:
– Remember, Alyonushka, this day... You know, I envy you... today you joined this world... This is a scary and sweet world – the world of theater. "Hell and poison, flattery and revenge" – as one great artist used to say. But the one who inhaled the smell of the wings, he will never be able to forget it... As they say, there is no way back... Well, sleep, sleep, baby, relax... The old man, it means the Gray Wolf, can't eat Little Red Riding Hood, you know, it always ends sadly for the poor wolf...
The noise behind the bookshelf subsided again, Lena straightened her legs, and Solovyov's hand lay on her flat tummy; the April night and the booze she had experienced during the day completed the rest – Solovyov fell asleep. ...Now he was awake.
"But that's not what we agreed on," Solovyov whispered once more, "and then you're not afraid that we'll wake up individual comrades."..
"They will survive," she said, "we have endured their gasps and sighs, and they will endure.
"Look, I've never taken young, inexperienced girls to bed like this... In addition, special training is needed...
– You have to start somewhere. It concerns both of us.
She grinned and unbuttoned her bra. Two small but elastic breasts appeared right in front of Solovyov's nose, and it was extremely difficult to ignore them.
"But listen," he made one last attempt, "look at how it looks from the outside for a minute. Everyone will say that the boss exceeded his official position...
– We will hide this terrible secret...
– Listen, Alyonushka...
– That's it, that's it... That's what my mom calls me... And with the same intonation...
– I just wanted to introduce you to the theater...
– And they did... I give you my word, I will never forget the smell of the wings... And then what a journey we've made in one day... Remember, this morning you called me missy and carrot...
She lay flat on Solovyov, hugged him around the neck, her breasts slowly moved up, froze at his throat.
"Are you sure?– asked Solovyov in a strangled voice. – After all, this is not a game, not a theater...
– The theater also comes to life and vice versa...
– I can't... At least not today... I'm not sure about my masculine ones... Solovyov muttered...
– Well, what a liar and a coward you are. Her hand slid over his stomach and down for a moment. She laughed. –Yes,– she said, "I want everything to be in the light...
She flipped the switch on the floor lamp. And at the last moment Solovyov noticed a change: her eyes became dark (where is the blueness? the subconscious flashed like lightning) and huge, Solovyov's face was reflected in them and pulled in, squeezed into the very depths... In the next moment, their lips merged...
1989 г.
Из книги «Ты вечна, красота» (Мн., 2001)
Хокку
А белых крыльев размах над морем.
Чаек яростный крик.
Пенная вечность…
Тонкий серпик луны
Над мерно брызжущим морем…
Что еще нужно для счастья?
Ребенок на фоне восходящего солнца –
Тросточка на ветру…
Ты вечна, красота…
Всё рушится вокруг,
А я по-прежнему возделываю свой сад…
На взлете кончается жизнь…
Полей беспредельна печаль…
Плачет ребенок на осеннем ветру…
Что делать эстетику в этом мире?..
Вечерние волны тянутся к берегу,
Бриз потянул с Запада,
Кто вспомнит сейчас о дневной жаре?
Сегодня по утру глаза моего сына-младенца
Кажутся совсем карими…
О дух сотворяющий, ты вездесущ!
Улыбка твоя
Подобна ласке морского бриза.
Как ты бываешь прекрасен, миг жизни.
Тихо птенчик спит в гнезде.
И младенец дремлет на руках отца.
Безмятежность разлилась над миром.
Тонкий серпик луны
Завис над моим окном.
Опять щемит сердце…
Желтая листва
Опадает в очередной раз…
Шуршанье по всей земле.
На слуцкую браму
Ранний туман
Окутал с утра браму…
Гул столетий затих
Дальняя синь неба
Видна сквозь облака.
Как далеко от детства…
Музыки такт
Вдруг всколыхивает душу.
И поднимается из глубины к горлу…
Зелень сходит,
Опадает и тает…
Чтобы вернуться весной.
Опять осень,
И все безжалостней ветер.
Прощай, лик любви.
Вижу: травка растет.
Просачивается сквозь асфальт…
Ты неизбывна, жизнь!..
Снег тает под солнцем,
Но ночью – хлад,
Тяжко грядет весна.
Черный квадрат сцены
Вдруг взрывает невидимый ветер.
Единое переживанье сердец…
Сквозь телефонный гул
Голос твой возник.
На сердце – весна.
Днем калейдоскоп лиц.
И тоска по ночам…
Без тебя, без тебя…
Солнце над Литвой…
Такая редкость!
Озаряет влажность леса и душ!
Привычный холод
Сквозь окно вагона.
Привет, Беларусь…
Пробуждение
Бледный серпик Луны
Удивленно смотрит…
На мир человечий.
Воздух Кавказа
Проснулся утром
Потому, что пьянит
резкий воздух Кавказа…
Обожженность закатом
Как промысел божий
Обжигает закат…
До самого дна души…
Итальянский тембр…
Голос над царством пиццы…
Отблеск иной жизни…
Пиццерия…
Материализм
Шум голосов человечьих
Гудит, не стихает…
Все заботы о плотском…
Полет чайки
Из тучи серой
Белокрылая чайка
Молнией сверкает…
Алеет восток поутру
Розовый загар
Охватил полнеба…
Нежность в душе с утра…
Окончание и начало…
Конец века.
Тревога в душе…
А может это роды начала.
Брызги
И все, что осталось,
Это брызги…
Осколки моря…
Бодрость
Солнце и свежесть,
Бодрят с утра.
Вдыхают надежду…
Цикады
Треск цикад
Рвет тишину ночи…
Опять беспокойство…
Привет воробья
Воробей залетел ко мне,
Видно, на запах…
Живая все же, душа…
На рассвете
На рассвете
Брезжут тени утра.
Пробуждается нежность…
О многообразии мира
И всюду белый свет…
Прекрасно там…
Где нас и вовсе нет.
На восход солнца
Солнце осветило небо…
Успокоило море…
Наполнило смыслом мир…
Первый день осени
Тучи над морем,
Ветер крепчает,
Осени первый день…
В финале схватки
Когда человек без сил
Человечье
Поднимается из глубин.
Порхающие мгновения
Белые бабочки
В зарослях темных...
Порхающие мгновенья бытия...
Туже струи дождя
Если схватить
туже струи дождя –
Взберешься на небо...
Воспоминание
Мои грехи и ошибки
Твои прощают глаза...
Воспоминание как надежда...
Фиточай
Пьешь влагу
С запахом тишины...
Покой вливается вглубь
Притяжение
Тяго полной луны
Манит с собой...
Лунная дорожка вдоль сердца...
Горячо в объятьях моих
Свет луны
И твой профиль.
Все смешалось в моих объятьях...
Зов полной луны
Под утро слышен
Цокот женских каблучков...
Неистов зов полной луны...
Цена победы
Опустошение... когда
Все отдал борьбе,
Но реет всех выше твой флаг...
Раніца
Пачуў адно толькі слаўцо –
Раніца...
і ўскалыхнулася душа...
Из сборника стихотворений «Премьера III» (Мн., 2014)
Глаз не в силах вместить...
Красный лик заходящего солнца...
...Жизнь прошла не зря...
...И есть сладость в том,
Как увядает... Уходит...
Былая сила моя.
Камнем летишь в пропасть...
Но взгляд в лицо ребёнка
Губкой стирает печаль...
Ветер с Северо-Запада
Вздувает барашки волн...
Стынет пыл сердца...