СЛЫШНО… (из сб. «Здравствуй, муха!») Перевод Е.Валентиновой

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You Hear… ‘You know, Gena writes poetry…’ I didn’t know that. Gena is a thick-set fair-haired man of about forty. He studied to become a physicist, never graduated, and now works as a lab assistant in some research institute. He always has a plump brief-case about, even when visiting friends. ‘Could it be poems that are inside?’ ‘Might well be poems. He has been writing for many years – and never published a thing.’ ‘They won’t have him?’ ‘He won’t try, he just keeps writing, and that’s it. From time to time he gives a friend a collection as a birthday present– and is quite content with that.’ ‘Wish you could get hold of a copy for me…’ ‘I think I have one about… here it is.’ I took the little book bound in leather with a silk ribbon for the book-mark. He binds them himself… I opened the book, the first poem began – “…a Hellenic youth…”, he was doing something with a paddle, can’t remember exactly what… The second… “…a beautiful Amazon maid…” But oh no, it can’t be. The third – “…how beautiful evening roses are…” I shut the little book. I was stunned. I had imagined a graphomaniac writer as something quite different. He has been creating his pieces for so many years – and he never talks about it, doesn’t push on to carve his way to notoriety, doesn’t frequent publishing houses with this case of his. Unconcerned he writes on an on. Doing what he needs to do – and that’s that… When we start – we just need it, we don’t hope for anything. It is not work yet, but pure joy. Then it becomes one’s trade – and doubts and torments commence… and imprecations – I’ve got stuck with my drawing, I’ve got stuck with my writing… My friend laughs: ‘Why aren’t you reading, you’ve asked for it. A natural graphomaniac, yes… But what a fine fellow for all that – a truly pure soul…’ ‘Have you read it through?’ ‘I must confess I’ve never made it to the end.’ ‘Let’s try the end…’ I opened the last page - and read: - YOU HEAR… You hear a leaf drop in the autumn woods You hear a twig screech sliding against the window pane You hear a sparrow have a bath in the sultry heat, beating his wings in the dust You hear a hawk fly in the sky slowly vanishing in the distance You hear the old cat sleep, breathing heavily, noisily You hear a cockroach run over rough paper with his little legs going tap-tap-tap But you never hear time crawl, or run, or fly But you never hear death approach, rest his hand on the back of your chair Shift his feet, have a look over your shoulder…

Автор: DM

Дан Маркович родился 9 октября 1940 года в Таллине. По первой специальности — биохимик, энзимолог. С середины 70-х годов - художник, автор нескольких сот картин, множества рисунков. Около 20 персональных выставок живописи, графики и фотонатюрмортов. Активно работает в Интернете, создатель (в 1997 г.) литературно-художественного альманаха “Перископ” . Писать прозу начал в 80-е годы. Автор четырех сборников коротких рассказов, эссе, миниатюр (“Здравствуй, муха!”, 1991; “Мамзер”, 1994; “Махнуть хвостом!”, 2008; “Кукисы”, 2010), 11 повестей (“ЛЧК”, “Перебежчик”, “Ант”, “Паоло и Рем”, “Остров”, “Жасмин”, “Белый карлик”, “Предчувствие беды”, “Последний дом”, “Следы у моря”, “Немо”), романа “Vis vitalis”, автобиографического исследования “Монолог о пути”. Лауреат нескольких литературных конкурсов, номинант "Русского Букера 2007". Печатался в журналах "Новый мир", “Нева”, “Крещатик”, “Наша улица” и других. ...................................................................................... .......................................................................................................................................... Dan Markovich was born on the 9th of October 1940, in Tallinn. For many years his occupation was research in biochemistry, the enzyme studies. Since the middle of the 1970ies he turned to painting, and by now is the author of several hundreds of paintings, and a great number of drawings. He had about 20 solo exhibitions, displaying his paintings, drawings, and photo still-lifes. He is an active web-user, and in 1997 started his “Literature and Arts Almanac Periscope”. In the 1980ies he began to write. He has four books of short stories, essays and miniature sketches (“Hello, Fly!” 1991; “Mamzer” 1994; “By the Sweep of the Tail!” 2008; “The Cookies Book” 2010), he wrote eleven short novels (“LBC”, “The Turncoat”, “Ant”, “Paolo and Rem”, “White Dwarf”, “The Island”, “Jasmine”, “The Last Home”, “Footprints on the Seashore”, “Nemo”), one novel “Vis Vitalis”, and an autobiographical study “The Monologue”. He won several literary awards. Some of his works were published by literary magazines “Novy Mir”, “Neva”, “Kreshchatyk”, “Our Street”, and others.