Yabloko na ladoni Page #3

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For money, he was taken to the roof

of an eight-story building.

He fell down. But after the fall

only the trough was damaged,

and he was unhurt.

Once, in a street,

I touched a blind beggar.

He was wandering round the city

looking for his wife.

You are on your own.

Imagine, you are on your own.

There is no one else...

not even God.

You are on your own.

If you ever imagine

that you are on your own,

then a multitude of lives

will appear in your single body.

Because when a person realises

he is on his own,

Jesus appears before him.

Jesus, because he was also

utterly on his own in this world.

And if you ever get married

and have children...

...you will not be able

to move further,

unless you are full of compassion

and realise

that your wife is also Ionely,

and that your child

is also utterly alone,

and that your father and your mother

are also Ionely people.

He too once had a woman.

When he remembers her,

he begins to embrace himself

with both arms.

That's how he remembers her.

The man hasn't left his

broken trough for 40 years.

He said that there is enough room

in the trough for another person...

...and that once, in winter,

one woman took him in,

but only for one night.

He said that that night he left

his trough and lay down with her.

She put her leg up against his legs,

and that's how they slept

until the morning,

when he left.

My little son,

beware of learned books,

beware of laws, any laws.

Because for the system

we are not people.

It has established an order of things

in which neither you nor I exist.

There is no one.

There's only the law

which exists for us,

the law of blood,

the law of fine matter.

Our blood, yours and mine,

is the sacred axis

of the whole system.

The laws of dialectics deal with it.

The laws of dialectics

are the laws of the system.

They work only within the system.

They are tested,

logical and, of course, false.

According to these laws,

the system is a great biomass,

and a human being

is the number of its chances.

It's possible to take these chances

away, or to leave them.

This is the foundation

of everything.

These are

the laws of dialectics,

for this reason

they are immune from morality...

...immune from good and evil.

With all this in mind,

it is getting ever harder

to discuss whether

we are human at all, or not.

He was nicknamed

"George the Victor".

Beggars call his hands "candles",

two "candles".

At the moment

he is smoking his last cigarette.

And you, my little son,

should live your life

like a cigarette...

...and like a candle.

Like a cigarette, you'll smoulder

and leave your ashes behind.

Like a candle,

you'll melt and turn into light.

And your light

will transform your body.

You'll see...

It wasn't that long ago

that he worked in the fields.

Once,

because of the girl he loved,

he was caught,

and thrown into millstones.

The millstones were in motion.

Since that time,

he roams the city on his knees.

He never gets up.

He does fortune telling,

about the girl

who was stolen from him.

He wants to know

if she still loves him, or not.

She loves me, she loves me not,

she loves me, she loves me not.

She loves me, she loves me not,

she loves me, she loves me not.

With his knees,

he practises fortune-telling,

fortune-telling about the girl.

The system by now has acquired

the rhythmic basis of death.

It has learnt

how to counteract itself.

That's why it's pointless

to resist the system.

In reality,

the system doesn't want to kill us.

It wants to be.

To be.

It doesn't want

the end of the world.

That's why the system needs light,

which it doesn't have.

Particles of such light

are the flesh of the soul.

They can only be taken

from human life.

With each day that passes,

I feel that the system crystallises

the light in my body.

The light grows solid

and leads to a headache.

I don't have any proof.

I just know that my head aches.

That's why, my little son,

before it's too late,

you should start working

for your salvation.

You see,

you have your own light.

Follow it,

and you'll come out of the system.

For now, do not think

about any kind of nonsense.

Don't think about travelling abroad.

After death, you'll have

enough time to travel around.

Our next baptism will be by fire.

Then it will be too late

to decide whose side you are on.

Grigory said that he is happy.

Happy because he can't cross himself

either in the Orthodox way,

with three fingers,

or in the Catholic way,

with an open hand.

For him, the Great Schism

of the churches never happened.

In his hands,

they are reunited.

"God knew that what he conceived

was worth the risk.

"He has already prepared

a body for me.

"It will be made

of imagination and light.

"The smell has already reached me

from the kitchen,

"where my body is being prepared.

"You can't even imagine

who I'm going to be."

This man is a king -

King Oswald.

He says his civilisation

doesn't leave any trace.

His civilisation is on small wheels.

Every morning

this woman appears in the market.

She doesn't live anywhere.

She just keeps walking and walking,

pulling a trunk behind her.

Her name is Yazundokta.

The man in the broken trough said

that once, when she wasn't even 20,

he saw her posing

for a photographer

who was taking pictures

of her bare back.

He said that when he saw her back

and her shoulder blades...

...he wondered why little wings

were not growing there.

The man in the broken trough said

that her back is still as gorgeous

as in those days.

"She has the most beautiful

back in the world!"

When Yazundokta's estate,

all her property, was taken away,

and she needed food, she would allow

her back to be kissed for money.

Only kissed and only her back.

Yazundokta told me

she had become a woman in prison.

Her first man was her jailer.

Yes, a jailer.

She told me that in the war,

before the evacuation,

grenades were thrown at inmates,

and shot dead

in the most cold-blooded way.

Women were shot in the genitals.

She said that man, that bastard...

...pulled her legs apart,

and shoved his revolver right inside.

"He shoved the barrel

of his revolver right there.

"But the revolver misfired...

"...and he pulled

the barrel out of me.

"I saw his face, I saw

how exhausted he suddenly was.

"He was terrified,

and ashamed

"that he had failed so dramatically.

"I hugged his head

and I comforted him."

That same day,

he took Yazundokta out of prison.

Soon after bombing started,

the man was blown to pieces.

Only his head

was left for Yazundokta.

People say, she took his head,

and as she has no home,

she keeps his head in this trunk.

There is a compartment in the trunk

where that man's head is still kept.

He could have become her first man,

but he completely failed.

Chapter IV

KING OSWALD:

SAINT-SAENS (CHANCE)

FIRST DAY OF FREEDOM

There is something humiliating

about people hurrying to work.

You should try not to go to work.

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