Head from ro-ma-na
On Friday, immediately after noon, when the sun, pouring across the zenith, solemnly popped to the western edge of the valley, Se-voyants Ana-to-lia lay down to die.
Before leaving for another world, she carefully ate the food and sipped the food with za-pa-s - ma-lo when did the co-se-di touch her breathless body, the bird can’t walk without being fed! Further from the lids of the rain barrels standing under the water drains - in case of a sudden thunderstorm -Please, so that I pour water on top of it, so that it doesn’t wash away the fun-da-ment of the house. Then she rummaged around the kitchen floors, collecting all the uneaten supplies - bowls with creamy butter -scrap, cheese and honey, a edge of bread and a lo-vi-well of boiled chicken, and carried it into the cool reb. You-ta-schi-la from shi-fonier-ra “mortal”: a blind woolen dress with a white lace collar, a long a-front with you-shi-you-mi-smooth kar-ma-na-mi, flat shoes, knitted rumble-pa (my feet have been frozen all my life), carefully the body-but-forgive-the-wound and the-women's underwear, as well as the great-bush-ki-rosary beads with a silver cross - Yasa -man is ready to put them in her hand.
I left the clothes in the most visible place in the guest room - on a heavy piece of cloth, covered with a canvas sal-fet-coy du-bo -in a hundred (if you lift the edge of this napkin, you can remove two deep, clear traces of blows then -po-ra), water-ru-zi-la on a stack of mortal envelopes with days - for funeral expenses, you-ta-schi- I took an old oilcloth cloth out of my bag and went into the bedroom. There she made a bed, cut out the oilcloth according to the rules, laid one on the sheet, lay down , a second layer appeared, a blanket was placed on top, hands folded on the chest, she stood behind her head, settling comfortably on the shower, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Next, she immediately stood up, opened both window sashes all the way, and placed a pot of geranium under them - so as not to gasped and lay down again. Now we can not worry that after returning from her mortal body, her soul will continue to wander around the room -those. Surprisingly, she immediately flutters out the open window, but suddenly she says it.
Such scrupulous and detailed preparations had a very significant and sad purpose. chi-well - this is already the second day Se-voyants Ana-to-lia bled to death. Oh-na-ru-lives on the incomprehensible brown spots under him, she sleep-cha-la about-le-la, then pays attention -mo-la them and, having become convinced that this was really blood, bitterly disintegrated. But, tired of her fear, she pulled herself together and quickly wiped away her tears with the edge of her son’s hair. Why cry if it’s inevitable not to miss. Everyone has their own death: for some it opens the heart, for someone it mocks and takes away their mind, but for her, be, op-re-de-li-la get away from the blood.
Ana-to-lia had no doubt about the fact that the disease is incurable and soon. It was not for nothing that he pierced the most useless and thoughtless part of her body - the womb. As if it seemed like it was a punishment sent down to her because she couldn’t fulfill her main purpose -che-niya - give birth to children.
Stop-re-tiv-to cry and murmur and thereby come to terms with the inevitable, Ana-to-lia surprisingly quickly settled down koi-la. I rummaged through my linen chest, took out an old sheet, cut it into several pieces, soo-ru-di-la some kind of prok-la-dok. But by the end of the day you had become so plentiful that it seemed - somewhere inside she had a burst of pain... shaya and neis-sya-kae-may-ve-na. I had to use those little treasures that were kept at home. Since the whole thing was threatening to end soon, Ana-to-lia raz-ro-la the edge of the blanket, you-ta-schi-la from-there a few tufts of sheep's wool, washed it thoroughly and spread it out to dry on the floor. Of course, we could have gone to the house next door to Slap-Kants Yasa-man and asked her, but Ana... Lia didn’t bother to do this - suddenly she couldn’t resist, she would talk and tell her friend about her fatal illness . Yasa-man immediately woke up, rushed to Sa-te-nik, so that she would send away the lightning for punishment. that ambulance... Drive around to the doctors so that they can hurt her and make her sick -du-ra-mi, Ana-to-lia is not in-me-re-va-la. Decided to die, preserving dignity and dying, in peace and tranquility, within the walls of the house, where she lived her hard and hard life.
She went to bed late, talked for a long time about the family album, the faces of her relatives who had passed away under meager support. the thing ke-ro-si-no-howl lamp-py vyg-la-de-li especially-ben-but-sad-ny-mi and for-dum-chi-you-mi. We'll see you soon, whisper-ta-la Ana-to-lia, stroking each card with her og-ru-bev-shi-mi from the he-same-lo- go de-re-vence-to-work-da-fingers, we'll see-you-soon. Despite the depressed and anxious state, she fell asleep easily and slept until the morning. I woke up from the sweat of the cry of the pe-tu-ha - the bird was confusedly she-bar-shi-la in the hen-house, with no -patiently waiting for the hour when she will be let out to walk in the garden beds. Ana-to-lia listened, but sat close to herself. The feeling is op-re-de-li-la as quite tolerable - if you don’t consider your lo-mo-to-waist and light-to-go- lo-vo-ru-zhe-niya, it seems like nothing and doesn’t bother me at all. She carefully got up, went to the rubbish range, and with some kind of evil satisfaction, she was convinced that the blood had stopped even more. She returned to the house, made a tu-ru-di-la of wool and lost fabric. If things continue like this, then by tomorrow morning all the blood will be drained from her. This means that another sunrise in her life simply may not happen.
She stood on the ver-ran, drinking in every cell of the gentle morning light. Go to your neighbor's house and see how she's doing. Yasa-man was doing a lot of washing - she just placed a heavy vat of water on the wood-burning stove. While the water was warming up, they talked about this and that, about life matters. Soon the she-ko-vi-tsa will sing, she will shake it, collect the fruits, boil syrup from one part, and sour soup from the other part. sew, and leave the third one to sit in a wooden barrel, so that it can then be used for that same race. Yes, and it’s time to fight for the consummation, because it will be too late - in the hot June sun -the tra-va quickly grumbles and becomes un-suitable for food. Ana-to-lia left the pod-ru-gi, when the water in the cha-not for-ki-pe-la. Now we don’t have to worry, Yasa-man won’t remember about her until tomorrow morning. While he washes the laundry, while he lays it on, puts it under, hangs it out to dry in the sun, collects it, washes it -dit. Only in the late evening and up. So Ana-Liya will have enough time to quietly depart to another world.
Comforted by this circumstance, she spent the morning in leisurely everyday chores and only after noon, when the sun, cross-dya ku-pol ne-ba, chin-but pop-ly-lo to the western edge of the valley, lay down to die .
Ana-to-lia was the youngest of the three daughters of Se-voyants Ka-pi-to-na and the only one of his entire family who managed to live to see -clone-of-age. Have you ever heard of a thing - in February on the right of five-de-sya-ti-eight-mi-years - there would be no way for her kind -nykh yes-ta.
She remembered her mother poorly - she died when she was seven years old. She had terribly golden, shady eyes and thick honey curls. Her name was very con- scious of her appearance - Vo "ske. Her mother wrapped her wonderful hair in a tight braid, uk-la- Th-wa-la it with the help of wooden pins into a heavy knot on the back of the head and ho-di-la, slightly locking it on the her backside often ran her fingers along her neck, complaining that she couldn’t. Once a year, her father would sit her at the window. he cut out the hair and cut it a-k-rat-but at waist level - the mother couldn’t cut it any higher -wow-la-la. And before-w-w-w-w-w-wouldn't-have-re-za-la-sa-s-should-have-protected-them-from-use -la-tia, which has been circling above them for seventeen years now, since the day when she married Se-voyants Ka-pi-to-na.
In fact, her elder sister, Ta-te-vik, should have married him. Ta-te-vik then was six-over-ts, and four-over-t-year-old Vos-ka, the second girl to be paid in pain dear family Agu-li-sanz Ga-re-gi-na, with-my active participation in the preparation for the tor-gesture. According to the century, honor my many-gi-mi according to-ko-le-niya-mi ma-ran-tsev tra-di-tion, after the wedding ceremony the wedding should have taken place in the bride's house, and then in the same house. But the heads of the families Ka-pi-to-na and Ta-te-vik - two godly and respected clans of Ma-ra-na - re-shi-li unite -thread and play one big wedding on my-da-not. Thor-gesture promised to be nes-ly-khan-in size. Ka-pi-to-na's father, having decided to create the imagination of many guests, sent two of his sons-in-law to the village, so that they would invite the mu-zy-kan-tov ka-mer-no-go theater to the wedding. They came back tired, but happy, and announced that the prim-time musicians had immediately replaced their anger with compassion. Loss (have you seen this thing - come to the village of the theater orchestra!), when they knew about the generous -ra-re two gold coins for each and for-pa-se pro-visions on not-de-lyu, which after-le tor-gesture -you promised to deliver Ka-pi-to-na's son-in-law to the theater by tele-ge. Father Ta-te-vik made his surprise - the best-known interpreter of dreams was invited to the wedding. For a reward of ten gold, he agreed for his craft at all times. of the day, the only thing that pop-ro-sil is to help with the delivery of the necessary equipment for the work: shat- ra, glass-lyan-no-go sha-ra on a massive bronze stand, table for ga-da-niy, wide-ro-koy takh-you, two vas-zo -new with a densely-smelling, richly-scented plant un-seen before the present day and wild-wine spiral light- whose special varieties were ground into po-ro-shock de-re-va, which were burned for several months, -growth around the ginger and musk aroma, but not to the point. For the wedding, in addition to the Ma-rans, half a hundred people were invited, for the most part - respect rich and wealthy people. About the upcoming holiday, which promises to turn into almost a memorable event, on-pi-sa-even in ha- ze-tah, and this was especial-but even, because the previous press had never mentioned the tor-gesture wah in families that did not have a noble origin.
But something happened that no one expected - four days before the marriage, the bride fell ill -Whoa, I was tormented in a hot-Che-ch delirium for a day and, without regaining consciousness, she died.
On the day of her funeral over Ma-ran, vi-di-mo, some other, dark gates opened, and others appeared, reverse heavenly forces, because there is nothing other than the muddiness of the judgment, the conduct of the heads of two It would be impossible to explain the family. Immediately after the wedding, not having talked for long, they decided not to cancel the wedding.
“Don’t let the race go,” announced the handsome Agu-li-sanz Ga-re-gin at the table. - Ka-pi-ton is a good guy, hard-working and respectful, any boy will be glad to get him son-in-law. That-te-vik God took him to himself, which means it was destined to happen, it’s a sin to murmur against his will. But we have one more daughter for marriage. So Anes and I decided what kind of husband Vos-ka would marry.
No one dared to object to our husband, and after all, my sister’s love won’t do anything didn’t stay, as without-ro-pot-but, marry Ka-pi-to-na. Mourning for Ta-te-vik ot-vi-nu-li na ne-de-lyu. The wedding was big, noisy and very satisfying, and that same river, service the ro-baths under the open sky were filled with all kinds of dishes, surrounded in dark sur-tu-ki and on-chi-shen-nye to shine-ka bo-tin-ki or-kester naig-ry-val pol-ki and men-nue-you, ma-ran-tsy for some time nap- rya-wives-but flocked to the un-extra-high-class-class music, but then, next-to-oh-me- the lion waved his hand at the face and began the usual de-re-Vennes dance.
There were only a few dreams in the tent - there was no time for such a lot of food and drinks for the wedding guests. Voss-ka, by the hand, brought the promised two-native aunt, when de-vush-ka, having caught mi-nu-tu, rass - in a nutshell, the dream she had at the wedding. The entire room turned out to be tiny, full of smoke and unbelievably so ugly -ri-com. He waved his hand, where Vos-ka should sit, - that obom-le-la, raz-la-dev mi-zi-nets of his right hand - long, many- years old, the dark-haired but-got, bent over, went around the soul of the finger and grew along the la-do-ni, in a hundred - Well, crooked wrists, restricting the movement of the entire hand. Te-ty-ty-old-rick bes-tse-re-mon-but you-did out of the tent, the lion-de-zhu-rit at the entrance, he himself settled on- against, shi-ro-ko arranged no-gi in di-ko-wine sha-ro-va-rahs and hanging long thin brushes between the knees, and they say -cha is set on Vos-ka.
“I dreamed of a sister,” said the de-vush-ka in response to his unanswered question. - She stood with her back - in a beautiful dress, with a pearl thread woven into the braid. I wanted to hug her, but she didn’t give in. She turned around to me - the face was somehow old, with wrinkles. And the mouth is so... words, but the tongue cannot fit. I s-la-ka-la, and she went into the corner of the room, drank some dark liquid into her la-do-no, he says to me and says: “You won’t see happiness, Vos-ke.” I freaked out and woke up. But my worst thing happened later, when I opened my eyes and realized that the dream was continuing. The time was earlier en-bash-ti, pe-tu-hi hadn’t screamed yet; I went to drink some water, looked up for something, and saw a sad face in the er-di-ka Ta-te-vik. She threw her headband with a cape under my feet and disappeared. And the headband and cape, touching the floor, fell into dust.
Voss-ke-he-lo-ry-da-las, smearing black paint from her eyelashes across her cheeks - the only vein-cos-me-ti-ku , which was used by the women of Ma-ra-na. From the ras-shi-tyh to-ro-gim cru-same-voy and s-re-rya-ny-mi mo-not-that-mi-re-re-z-z-z-zhe-k-howl min-ta-ny arched- wow her fragile childish wrists, the blue, helpless vein on her temple was trembling.
The interpreter of dreams exhaled noisily, making a heavy, ear-irritating sound.
Vos-ke stopped short and stared at him in fright.
“Listen to me, girl,” the old man sang, “I won’t explain the dream to you, there’s no point in it, it’s all the same, but nothing matters anymore. The only thing that I agree with is never to touch your hair, let it always cover your back. Every person has his own ob-reg. “I have,” here he waved his right hand in front of Vos’s nose, “but my little finger.” And you, it turns out, have hair.
Good-ro-sho, - whisper-well-la Vos-ke. She waited a little, hoping for some other indications, but the interpreter of dreams kept my silence -nie. Then she got up to leave, but, having collected her spirit, she found herself asking: “You don’t know, why?” what exactly is the hair?
I can not know. But since she gave you a headdress, that means she wanted to cover up something that could protect you from the curse, - Without looking away from the smoking candles, the old man replied.
Vos-ke came out of the tent, experiencing mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was not so worried, because she left part of her dis-ease only -those dreams. But at the same time, I couldn’t let go of the thought that she had to, although not out of malice, still expose her sister in the eyes of the stranger, the person is almost mine. When she per-re-s-ka-za-la per-re-mi-nav-shay in impatience at the tent of the aunt about-ro-honor-in the old-ri- ka, for some reason she was f---ing about, but got ready.
The main thing is that we have nothing to fear. Do as he told you, and everything will work out. And the soul of Ta-te-vik, on the next day, will leave our sinful earth and leave you alone.
She returned to the wedding table - to her new husband, and timidly smiled at him. He was embarrassed, smiled in response, and suddenly turned bright-faced, not looking at the respectable by pat-riar-hal measures. Twenty years old, Ka-pi-ton was a very shy and timid young man. Three months ago, when there was talk in the family that it was time for him to get married, the husband of his older sister gave him -yes-rock - he took me to the do-li-well and spent the night in the house of the ter-pi-most. Ka-pi-ton returned to Ma-ran in great confusion. I can’t say that the night was a joyful night, spent in the arms of the smell of rose-water, nails and then a public wife. the cabbage soup didn’t suit his liking. Hurry up, nao-bo-rot - he was og-lu-shen and married to those-mi-to-mi-tel-but hot-ki-mi las-ka-mi, that-ry -she generously od-ri-la him. But a vague feeling of nastiness, a slight sickness, which arose in him at that very moment when he caught the expression of her face - squirming like a snake, emitting dull moans and caressing him skillfully and passionately. but, she managed to preserve such an insensible, stony mi-nu, as if not for love, but for what -it’s completely everyday, - don’t you give him peace. With the characteristic op-ro-met-chi-voy of his age, he decided that such a calculation was shameless in a way. Having been present in bed to all wives, he did not expect anything good from marriage. It was precisely for this reason that when the father announced that after the death of the eldest before Agu-li-sanz Ga-re-gi-na, he must marry thread on the youngest, Ka-pi-ton just silently nodded as a sign of agreement. Somehow, on whom? All women are essentially lies and are incapable of having genuine feelings.
Closer to the night, when the waiter began to give juicy slices of oko baked in spices to the tables -ro-ka and scattered millet porridge with cracklings and fried onions, drunken match-makers, to the shrill howl of the zur- We and the approving roar of the wedding guests would have taken the young people into the bedroom and locked them there with a bolt, promising to let them out in the morning . Left alone with her husband, Vos-ke began to sob bitterly, but when Ka-pi-ton came to her, in order to... to comfort and comfort, not to push him away, but, on the other hand, to cling to him and instantly become quiet, just sob-puff- wa-la and funny shmy-ga-la no-som.
“I’m afraid,” she approached him with her hidden face.
“I’m the same,” Ka-pi-ton said simply.
This non-thoughtful, but piercing dialogue in its sincerity and touchingness, is a shameful shame -in your words, bound their young and love-hungry hearts inseparably and forever. Already then, in bed, holding her young sup-ru-gu to her chest and, with prudence, catching her every movement, every every sigh, every gentle touch, Ka-pi-ton burned with shame for daring to compare her with a woman from before -li-ny. The sun in his arms shone and moved, like a precious ka-mu-shek, it warmed and filled - the meaning of everything that was around him, from now on, but she became everything dear that is and will be in his life - neither.
Not long after, when Agu-li-sanz Ga-re-gin and his sons-in-law, plain-haired and silent, dressed from head to toe in black, for three tall calves, from the meat without salt and carried it throughout the villages on large under-but-sah - people open the doors and silently f-a-bi-ra-li for every single portion: once -go-to-go-at-when-you-are-with-me-from-the-sacrifice-of-the-life, you can’t, - Vo-s-for-ve- covered the window in her bedroom with a non-pretty cloth and decided to mourn for her sister until the end of her days. She fasted endlessly and went to church for long evenings, praying for the blessed what kind of soul Ta-te-vik and vyp-ra-shi-vaya have her forgiveness, in the mournful sop-ro-leader-de-niy of ma-te-ri, not-news and two- dear ones, once in a while, there's a treasure-house, so that I can live with my sisters. The light and dark times of the day were literally different places for her - at night she loved and was warmed by the sun, and during the day she turned I found myself in a gloomy and gloomy being. Ta-te-vik never came to her again, and this fact made Vos-ka very sad. She never forgave me, otherwise she would have dreamed again, swallowing her tears, she shared her feelings with her. living with my husband.
In order to somehow distract her from her sad thoughts, Ka-pi-ton suggested that she take care of the furniture at home, delivering They should have a wedding after. Previously, his unmarried aunt and ba-bush-ka - ba-bo Ma-ne lived in this house, but then they stopped talking to father Ka-pi-to-na, leaving the mo-lo-smoke os-no-va-tel-noe, thick-bo-something and dark-no-va-toe, but about-living and a cozy dwelling with a large de-ve-ran-doy, a tall cher-da-k and a well-kept fruit garden . Vos-ke was suddenly reluctant to move, because the house was at the other end of Ma-ra-na. But Ka-pi-ton is stubborn - living far from her grieving relatives, she will remember less about her sister and more quickly reconcile r-sya with bitter speech in the morning.
With great reluctance, I gave in to my husband’s admonishment, and I unexpectedly became fascinated by my new occupation. and she got down to business so zealously that she didn’t even carry a lot of crap around the interior. Having carefully studied them, she settled on her choice for a table made of sea oak: an oval dining table, what-you-re-upholstered with that-but-green bar-ha-tom, wide-ro-kie ottomans, three-ten chairs - there should be a lot of sitting places -th, because guests will always be in the bosom of the house, - and a number of uk-ra-she-art-carved cupboards with you -so-ki-glass-li-ny-my doors, where-you-can-put-away-the-extraordinary set-of-vis for twenty-four per- so-n and many-gesture-in-another-su-dy, po-lu-chen-noy in-da-rock from the guests at the wedding. Plot-ni-ku Mi-na-su, having decided to reproduce the furniture exactly, had to hire two apprentices to his three in order to install sing by the specified deadline - Vos-ka would already be-re-men-on the first re-ben-com and would like to deal with the furniture -ditch of the house before his birth. Time before giving birth, she went to the ru-ko-de-lii - you-shi-la on the pa-ru with the mother carried a lot of ska-ter-tey and pok- dug, two sets of bed linen, suited and ready for the baby's christening. Just a week after the ritual of finding the cemetery, she walked into Mi-na’s car-prone -sa, to control the work. Mi-us groaned and frowned, but silently endured the vi-zi-you Vos-ke, right, he quickly kicked her out home, motivated by the fact that a woman, especially a be-re-men, should not walk in the smell of poison. tym la-kom and mu-zhits-kim then masterful. But your visit to the raft didn’t go in vain - the furniture was ready for the first time, and, as soon as you got there, next to the house and right in the village, Vos-ke fell ill in contractions. A day later she gave birth to her Ka-pi-to-well daughter, whom I called Na-ze-li. Two years later, Sa-lo-me was born, and after another half a year, the youngest, Ana-to-lia, was born.
Affectionate and pre-dup-re-di-tel-naya to her husband, Vos-ke was silent and very restrained with her daughters - Ana-to-lya didn’t know-about-my-na-la, so that she would-name them to reduce-shi-tel-but-las-ka-tel-ny-my words-va- mi or po-mi-nut-but wasps-pa-la kissing-mi, like this de-la-li other ma-te-ri. She never praised them, but she didn’t ru-ga-la them either. If you didn’t like something, just put your lips under your lips or your eyebrows. This you-so-up-up eyebrow of the girls stopped more than the constant grumbling of the presta-re-loy ba-bo Ma -ne, the only related-ve-ni-tsy, which-paradise survived after-the terrible earth-sea, washed away in the abyss of the western shoulder of Ma-nish-Ka-ra. This disaster happened in the year when Sa-lo-me was supposed to be born. Ba-bo Ma-ne came to them to help with the little Na-ze-li - mu-chi-my hard-to-attack I'm sick of it, but it was difficult for Vos to cope with a non-grey-haired child. Be-yes-y-y-y-y-y-yy-pink-in-the-cumbers-in-the-lud-it: the earth under-the-he-ha-mi sod-horn-well, for-in-ro-cha -la, for-gu-de-la - pro-heavily, with you-ra-chi-va-spirit behind-you, ras-ko-lo-la shoulder Ma-nish-Ka-ra and rukh-nu-la into the abyss, catching the house with its outbuildings and yards, choking -there are people screaming and living creatures that are in paradise, sensing the approaching misfortune, rushed into it the moat and the barn, trying in vain to attract attention and warn the owners.
The left-hand part of the village survived the blow of the elements with courage and dignity: people left behind services in a tiny cha-soul (standing on the edge of the village, the church of Gri-go-ra Lu-sa-vo-ri-cha rukh-nu-la in abyss of the first-howl) and spread out through the houses - uk-rep-lying the deep-caves with cracks on the walls and surroundings r-siv-sh-shi-shi-shi-shi, put-in-a-row-dock on-the-side of the tree-lined palisades. Once we talked about how we should move to remote-but-safe low-lands, then we still don’t know elk - they happened a lot later. After the earth, Mei-dan was deserted - noisy celebrations and festivities were never held there again. Not once in the old days did people come from the valley, they said that part of the collapsed in the abyss of houses carried the village away to the west and arrived to other people's villages and that the people who lived in these houses , safe and sound, but will never return, because the fear they experienced has taken away their memory and they do not they know that once upon a time they lived on a ma-kush-ka covered with a huge forest and blissful pastures of the mountains . The Gypsies exalted with bliss, ode-ri-va-li with all their scar-b and rags - and may they rest in peace: everyone hoped in their hearts that they were telling the truth and that the un-private dwellings of the west wing of Ma -nish-Ka-ra live. And even the fact that they were now speaking in other languages and wearing different clothes had no -ch-niya: in the end, the sky carried one-on-the-blue and the wind blows exactly the same as in the region where you often -would-you-be-born.
Tsy-ga-ha-didn’t come a few more times, and then they stopped - they were the first to feel the arrival of a new ka -tas-ro-fy and one day disappeared - silently and forever, growing in the hot ma-re-ve- day-of-the-sun, blind-gold-like-those mo-not-you, who-ry-they-were-in-the-yar-ma - fatal days on May-da-not, caught by the hand for the ritual crime of theft.
Ana-to-lya was born the night before their last appearance in the village. Ba-bo Ma-ne just took the old rights-well-check to the neighbor to give a rest to the left-necks after the heavy ones Ro-dov Vos-ke, next to the house, under the ma-te-rins-kim bo-k, carefully wrapped in a warm blanket, little Ana slept -to-liya - the only one of the do-che-rei Se-voyants Ka-pi-to-na, like two drops of water resembling its dark-skinned de -yes, that’s where the name of their clan “Se-voyants” came from, because “sitting” in the re-vo-de from Marans-ko-oz-on- says "black". Tsy-gan-ka is a half-thick and low-growing woman with a barely visible scar on her left cheek, without re- fifthly, she entered the house, walked past, without stopping anywhere, through all the rooms, without knocking on Voss. .
She froze, sat up on her elbow, and hid the baby. Tsy-gan-ka made the usual hand gesture - don’t be afraid, I won’t do anything bad to you, I’ve come to the -va-ti, zag-la-nu-la in li-chi-ko re-ben-ku.
What's your name?
Ana-to-lia.
Beautiful.
She stood out, pulled back the edge of the blanket and sheet, tightened her multicolored ruffled skirts, sat down , spreading his legs like a man and dangling his thin long hands between them. Vos-ka seemed vaguely familiar with her: someone had already spoken important words to her, sitting exactly like that - opera- rubbing her elbows on her separated knees, but who it was, she couldn’t remember for some reason - the word to her was ma-no-ve- Without using my hand I erased the memory.
We won't be coming back here again, ever. Give from your uk-ra-shes what you would like to get from. So na-do, - med-len-but pro-go-vo-ri-la tsy-gan-ka. Her voice was hoarse, pro-kuren, often interrupted at the ends of words, as if she didn’t have enough breath to- speak.
Vos-ke didn’t even come to the house to greet the unexpected guest: it was in her sos-re-to-chen-nom and heavy -a broken look and expression on the face - something that made her approach her without any re-examination before -reem. That's why, with a habitual gesture, she pulled out her long honey hair from under her back, pushing it away to her heart's content. ku - so they didn’t bother to lie down, folded their hands on their chests and began to think. She has little knowledge, and all of them perished under the earth's kin. It would be equally hard to give something away from memory.
Open the top drawer of the closet, and there lies a bag. “You take care of something yourself,” Vos-ke finally decided after a short time.
Tsy-gan stood up heavily, straightened out the edge of the sheet and blanket, pulled out the drawer, put her hand in there , without looking at something, you hid it behind your coat and ran towards you du.
Why don't you believe anymore? - Vos-ke stopped her with a question.
Tsy-gan took hold of the door handle.
I can’t tell you this.
A little bit, before-ba-vi-la:
My name is Pat-ri-na.
Vos-ke wants to be called, but Tsy-gan-ka sharply for-mo-ta-la go-lo-howl - not for it. Then she carefully wrapped herself in a warm shawl, nodded briefly and went out. As soon as the door closed behind her, Vos-ke’s head shut. She laid her head down in her heart's content, laying there with her eyes closed behind her, to prevent an attack of ill-naturedness. , and neo-zhi-dan-but for myself fell asleep. She woke up in full confidence that she had dreamed about the gypsy’s visit, one of the drawers not behind her. the check ko-mo-da spoke about the ob-rat. She pop-ro-si-la ba-bo Ma-ne pe-re-give her a shka-tul-ku with uk-ra-she-niya-mi, she didn’t get the chance a silver ring with a blue amethyst. This was a ba-bush-ki-but ring, which, according to the right of us, should have passed to the eldest of her granddaughters. ke, Ta-te-vik. But Vos got it.
The room smelled like the freshness of the evening and a very faint smell of aroma. You-pa-la dew-sa, you-la-la a thick aroma from half-sleepy flowers and spread it over the ground. Another hour or two - and night will come, on Ma-nish-Kar it moves swiftly and suddenly, as if from around the corner ; ka-za-moose, just now the umbrella was crossing behind-the-cat-n-mi lu-cha-mi, and a second later everything was already behind- top-le-but dre-mo-that, the sky is very low, in a generous swarm of dewy stars, and the crickets sing as if for the last time.
I wish I knew what they were singing about - pro-bor-mo-ta-la Ana-to-lia and neo-zhi-dan-but laughed for herself, but it’s so unfortunate, that it came from its own saliva. From-coughing, standing up on his elbow, drinking from a hundred - a carafe of water always stood on the cover-ro-wat- noah tum-boch-ke: the habit she had acquired since marriage, her husband, a big water-breath-blow, absorbed liquid- bone in huge quantities, even at night, and so as not to get under one another time, he demanded every evening to leave pour a decanter with fresh water on the tumbler. It’s already been twenty years since there’s been no trace of him, and Ana-to-lia every day for the old pa-me-ti na-li-va-la in the decanter of fresh water . The next morning she let it out to water the plants in pots and again filled it with water. And so on, day after day, every day, for two decades.
Having drank some water, she, with great care, turned on her side, sha-ri-la her hand under her, popped barking oilcloth. Between the legs it was moist and nasty, carefully prepared pro-lad-ka - Ana-to-lia pre-dus-mot-ri-tel-but about - her pack-lei lived so that it could hold on longer - it leaked through, and the nightgown got wet and pri- stick-la from behind. I had to get under my breath and change my mind. Ana-to-lia pro-de-la-la all the ma-ni-pu-la-tions, crushing the sickness. For some reason, everything that happened to her body caused her monstrous irritation and disdain -vost. The blood grew even more, it gushed out with some kind of imp-reo-do-my, evil force, as if it hurried as quickly as possible. rea-throw her womb. Ana-to-lia ub-ra-la is-pack-kan-linen out of sight under the bed, lay down, spread-la-di-la second los-kut oilcloth, nak - I rummaged at them, put the blanket on top, carefully grabbed my feet - but they were cold even in the summer, in the sa- my heat.
I wish I could die soon,” he sighed, closed his eyes, and quickly dived into the pool of reverie. There is no time with them.
She was seven years old when her mother left - for-pi-la ba-nyu, you-ku-pa-la do-che-rey, put her to bed, and At that time, while she was fiddling with them, she closed the stove pipe to hold in the heat. For-me-the-wa-la then opened it and killed us. Tired after hard work, Ka-pi-ton fell asleep, not waiting for his wife, and waking up in the middle of the night and not -on-ru-lives next to her, knocked down the door of the ba-ni, you-carried her in your arms - Vo-ke, pa-daya, behind-the-tse-pi-la the oven-door, it smelled good, and some of the dried-up coals, for some reason not extinguished from the moisture, sap-li-la its wonder. new honey curls.
The curse of Ta-te-vik has overtaken us! - leading the clumsy dark hands to the sky, the old ba-bo Ma-ne, sobbing in her voice, by that time - me-ni per-re-va-li-lo for a hundred - lus-le-paya, not-powerful, for days of nap-ro-years she pro-vo-di-la on the tah-te, about- lo-live mu-ta-ka-mi, and, whisper-flatteringly transparent-ra-ny-mi bu-si-na-mi ch-tok, whisper-ta-la prayers. Vos-ke's death forced her to get up and throw her on her bent shoulders for chores around the house; she lived for another five years and went into the most terrible famine, having become deprived of her rights from the lack of food from her elders. -Well, check. Sa-lo-me died out first, the next day he went to Na-ze-li, de-vo-chek lived in one coffin, covered the length -now-mi-lo-sa-mi - hunger, except for health and beauty, took away their lush honey, mothers braids. Ba-bo Ma-ne pro-we-la them in la-van-do-howl-de, pro-su-shi-la on through-nya-ke, ras-che-sa-la and na-ry- la, as if the bodies were pok-ry-va-lom, melted to the point of transparency, right-well-check.
Ka-pi-ton took his youngest daughter to distant relatives, left them a box with valuables for Vos-ke and The funds saved over all the years of difficult peasant labor are forty-three gold coins. Every time Ana-to-lia closed her eyes, her father stood in front of her inner gaze - is-hu-da-ly, with vva-liv-shi-mi-sya with a squeak-mi and a dim-witted look at the young husband, who in a short period of time has surpassed in decrepit old age, she holds her breath so as not to burst into tears from her wild, tormenting heart -was it painful, when I remembered how he pressed her to his chest, whispered in her ear - I wish you could live, daughter, when he left the house, he tightly closed the door behind him - and never came again.
She returned to Ma-ran after seven long years, by which time her family had sheltered her and managed to let the uk-ra-she-nii go to the winds ma-te-ri, the only thing left of Ana-to-lii - ka-meya from the na-tu-ral ra-ko-vi-na, tender-ro-zo-vaya , in a be-same re-living, with a skillfully-cut-out young girl, sitting with her mouth full on the cro-hot on a bench under the shade of a willow tree and looking out at someone in the distance. Over the years spent in the pre-li-non, Ana-to-lia learned a lot, and first of all, gram-mo-those, considered -that letter, she’s not from school, explaining this by the fact that there are no funds for education, but for three -my uncle, the woman is not private and without equal, she is sooner in the role of servant than the owner. ki at home, who has been forced to endure the constant drunken behavior of her husband and son all her life, taught her everything, that she knew. She never offended Ana-to-lya, she was very kind-to-va and pre-dup-re-di-tel-na to her, protected from rudeness and rudeness of three siblings, and before her own death, she died for a long time and painfully, from some - it’s not-my-ill-illness, it’s slow-and-slow, but it’s ruined her health, - sent-ra-vi-la de-vyat- over-the-tsa-year-old Ana-to-lia on the post-office fur-go-not going to Ma-ran.
By that time, Ana-to-lia had grown into a cute-looking girl - with blue-black, girlish eyes , olive skin, long, reaching up to the gray calves, neo-living linen, in honey pe- re-live, ma-te-rins-kye curls. She tied her hair in a fluffy braid, tied it at the back of her head with a heavy knot and walked la, like Vos-ke, slightly tilting her head back. Yasa-man's old mother, seeing her after so many years of separation, gasped and grabbed her heart - how do you want- I love both of my relatives, de-voch-ka, as if I united their private souls in my own. Ana-to-lya didn’t say-but was ob-ra-do-wa-la about the fact that the famine was going on with her. Yasa-man, who was twenty-two years older than her and by that time had already nannyed her first grandson, took - I wanted to help her with her husband, Ova-nes, to get her house in order and a garden underneath. They uk-re-pi-li-under the rear wall, replacing the dried-up window frames with new ones, behind-la-ta -whether the floor of the ve-ran-dy is missing. Over time, Ana-to-lia spark-ren did not become attached to them, and this attachment was mutual. To Ana-to-liya, the only one who lived before her co-parent and friend, Ova-carried from-to-her-father-with-strength who cares and attention, and Yasa-man became everything for her - a mother, a sister, a friend, a shoulder, on whom she could but to get ahead when life becomes completely not-you-but-si-mine.
During the time spent in the pre-li-n, Ana-to-lia from the hard-de-re-ven-to-work, past- a lot of time until she again learned how to cope with the garden, and with the cooking, and with the cleaning . To make her life easier, she locked up most of the rooms in the house, re-de-living a new bedroom for housing , living room and kitchen, but once every two days she had to carefully move around, wipe away the dust, you -but-sit-in-the-breeze-in-the-sun or in the fresh, frost-smelling frosty, heavy blankets made of sheep's wool, it's soul-satisfying, mu-ta-ki and carpets. In-no-gu-gu, she got-up with living creatures - Yasa-man gave her a chicken, which was the first time -there are no chickens in the old house, so as not to be left without a pet. But then, when she got the balls, Ana-to-lia took her away with squeaking and co-sha-sha-ing output -come to oneself, one of the chicks - combative, quarrelsome from the first days of life, grew up into a noble person, a real one go-tas-ku-na, with alacrity I peek-up not only my chicken ha-rem, but also the feathered woman's lo-lo- see the neighboring courtyards, for which he fell into bloody fights more than once, from where, however, you invariably dil-be-di-te-lem and for a long time ku-ka-re-kal with for-bo-ra, in-fear and trembling on the ver-wives about -tiv-ni-kov. Next, Ana-to-lia bought a goat, learned how to order ma-tsun and make the right kind of cheese - soft , tender, milky-moist on the cut. At first, I baked bread under the supervision of Yasa-man, then I under-re-la-la and did it myself. On Sundays, very early, I went to the cemetery, and then at one o'clock to call my relatives. The cemetery has doubled in size over the years of its absence, Ana-to-lia about-ho-di-la silent ka-men crosses, you have the names of entire families on them.
Half a year after her return, she got a job in a library. They took her there, regardless of the lack of education, simply because there was no more work to be done. to-mu - the old bib-lio-te-kar-sha did not re-live go-lo-da, but not to anyone else who agreed I wish I could spend five days for a mere pittance in a dusty, book-floor-filled place, not our moose. There are no children left in Ma-ra-ne; , barely five years have passed, the school and library that were built in the middle of nowhere are practically empty -va-li, but Ana-to-lia is not dejected-va-la: life will hit its stride, soon a new generation will be born children, and everything is back to normal.
The library seemed like a paradise to her, a place where she could take a breather from the daily same and desolate house-mash -they care. Ana-to-lya carefully re-washed the floors, rubbed them until they shine with wax, re-re-ra-la chi-ta -tel-form-mu-la-ry, according to the new arrangement of books, playing with the code and the alpha-vit-ny order and manual -the water-researching-lu-chi-tel-but-colors-you-prefer-the-below-those-who-are-in-the-dark-shells, and at the top are those in the light. There were plants all around - fragrant peas, aloe and geraniums, and clay shi-ro-gorgeous jugs were planted in the pots. shi-ny, who are idle-va-li without business in pog-re-ba, just went to the carpenter Mi-na-sa - with a request-fight asked - place holes in the bottoms for excess moisture. Under-apprentice Mi-na-sa, a quacky, not-you-so-much man, widowed and childless, in his years of hunger in a good way Having noticed his entire family, he immediately set his eyes on her. He personally delivered jugs to the library, and then looked at it several more times - as if to figure out the need... for help, sat until late, did not take his eyes off the embarrassed Ana-tolia, and a month later he came to her home, with -lo-same-same-thread. Ana-to-lya didn’t love him and knew that she didn’t love him, but she agreed to marry him, simply because you there was no one else to marry - there were no free men left in the village, and those who were were not suitable -di-by age: either young, or, on the contrary, very old. The marriage didn't happen often, for the seventeen long years she lived with her husband, she never knew that such a kind word or a caring thought. The husband turned out to be a surprisingly callous and equally soulful person, he was awkward and unresponsive in bed, to timid If I asked Ana to be at least a little more gentle, he responded with a rude ho-ho-ho, often took her by force - she lay-la after pro-le- smelling it with that and not-we-flesh and, swallowing tears, not-looking-at-himself with all my soul. The only dream - to give birth to children and dedicate oneself to their nurturing - was not destined to come true: it never I managed to get it. The husband just accused her of being helpless, but over the years he became gloomy and could not stand it, you Driven out of herself by her helpless rudeness, she became irritated and savage, and in the end got into the habit of pi-s-sya and ko-la-chi-w-t-it, throw it on the floor and drag-it around the house by the braids, but don’t miss a single piece- na-you, and then drank until the morning in a half-damp house-house. Every time he becomes more and more merciless, he probably would have killed her at some point, if not for the fear of death. -by-lins-kim Ova-nes-som, who-me-tiv-once-had blood flowed on Ana-to-liya’s cheekbone, nothing without speaking, he ran straight into the workshop, pulled him out from behind the carpenter, pushed him behind sh-t-mouthed around the yard and threw himself onto the high-linen-tsu. He left with his eyes sparkling:
Once again you put your hand on her - I’ll kill you without a word, okay?
Ova-ne-sa’s intercession saved Ana’s life, but prevented her from suffering every day - those -then the husband brought her in, in half a quiet voice: you raised your hands, hit you on the knuckles - so as not to see - but there were traces, from-dil-dir-ka-mi, open-ro-ven-but scoffed at her. Ana-to-liya endured in silence, did not regret - she was afraid that Ova-nes would keep his word and kill her good-husband, and when -she didn’t want to harm anyone.
The only source of inspiration in her hopeless everyday life was reading. The first years, when the bib-lio-te-was completely empty, she fell in love with all the work -what time is it? According to him, blah-da-rya nai-tia and innate taste, I learned how to make a good li-te-ra -too bad, fell in love with the classics - Russian and French, but Count Tolstoy was not in the vi-de-la-baie -zo-go-vo-roch-but and forever-yes - immediately after reading “An-ny Ka-re-ni-noy”. You count in his relation to the heroes nester-pi-my soullessness and you-with-me-rie, she is for-pi-sa-la gra -fa in sa-mo-du-ry and des-po-you and remove the thick volumes of his books further from the eyes - so as to upset less- Xia. Until-ve-den-naya from-de-va-telst-va-my husband is extremely desperate to put up with such an unspec-ra-ved-li- Unfortunately, she didn’t even appear on the book pages.
In the time free from reading, Ana-to-lia na-vo-di-la in the library is comfort and beauty: behind-ve-si-la ok- on the light-ki-mi sit-tse-you-mi shto-ra-mi - in full length, so as not to deprive the plants of the sun's light that one, brought the pa-las from the house and laid it along the ob-ve-shan-noy port-re-ta-mi pi-sa-te-ley wall, and uncomfortable seats de-re-vyan-nyh la-wok uk-ra-si-la ve-se-len-ki-mi shower-ka-mi, which-rye-ma I also sewed it from assorted threads.
Bib-lio-te-ka now on-by-mi-na-la ear-wife oran-same-reyu-chi-tal-nu - everything is up-to-con-ni-ki and pro-ho between the floors there were jugs and pots of plants, Ana-to-lia carried from the former estate of Ar-sha-ka-be-ka (now-not for-co-lo-chen-no-go and for-the-go House of culture) seven heavy pseudo-antic vases and in them tea roses, fragrant goat juice and mountain lilies Lii. The roses bloomed out of the rain and smelled so much that they attracted the bees with their aroma - they came into the open forts -dots and no-go pop-lu-tav in the folds of sit-tse-curtains, be-zo-shi-boch-but-ho-di-li-to-ro-gu to grow- niyam. After collecting flower pollen, they flew away, only to return again. One day in the fall, with the bitter-sweet smell of the fruits of life, there was a body in the window a swarm of bees and, huddling behind a beam, decided, apparently, to stay there forever Yes. And Ana-to-liya had to run around the whole village in search of the yard, with some bees running away. A large mu-ra-vey-nik grew up in the basement - ant paths, looping crookedly, crawled along the plank floorings to the entrance door and disappeared behind the door. The bottom of the roof along the perimeter is about the nest of the swallow - from year to year they are there, whatever you want -new new chicks. In the autumn, immediately after the birds, Ana-to-liya came to remove the outer walls from the place and about what mu-so-ra about-mo-tan-noy broom-loy. One day she found a sparrow's nest in the chimney and you had to wait for it. th-time, when the chicks come back, ok-rep-nut and fly away, and only after-le be-re-carried nest-to on de-re-vo. Otherwise, it would have been possible to frighten off the ro-di-te-leys, and they would have always left the nest, abandoning it to the arbitrariness of fate. I wouldn't have the balls.
Bib-lio-te-ka, over time, began to be-named Va-vi-lon for living creatures: all the pi-alien or boo-cough na-ho -is there a shelter here and have multiplied with astonishing frequency? Ana-to-lia left the dishes with sugar-water on the do-kon-ni-kah - for ba-bo-chek and ladybugs, smaste-ri -la carried a lot of food for the birds and you-sa-di-la had a small vegetable garden in the yard - to the delight of the ants. So she went on about her days, whispering about the countries she loved, the books that smelled like leather, without children -naya and non-private, ok-ru-zhen-naya not-guil-n-my creations - on the work-and-ter-zae-may not-in-visibility of the soup- ru-ga - in my father's house.
After a while, the school shat-ko-val-ko, but there was a primary class, and in the library, little-laziness finally appeared -something about it. Ana-to-lya showered all her mother’s undying love on them. On the table, next to the de-re-vyan-y lot with chi-ta-tels-ki-mi for-mu-la-ra-mi, she always keeps the va- zoch-ku with su-hof-ruk-ta-mi and homemade cookies. If the kids want to drink, give them some tea or something to drink, and then raz-le-ka-la you-chi-tan-now- mi or pri-du-man-ny-mi history-mi. Adults rarely go to the library, they have no time for books, but children are funny, inquisitive, frozen eyes - could he have spent hours there for so long? With touching caution they bro-di among the vases and pots with plants, but they sniff to every flower, there are bees behind the summer, there is a lot of sugar water in the saucer, chi-ta-li , de-la-li lessons, answering the many-numbered questions that were asked incessantly. Leaving, be sure to set up for a kiss on the cheek. Ana-to-lia is-ren-did not believe that the love of children is nothing more than the consolation of heaven for her childlessness.
Let it be so, - she humbly agreed with her fate.
A painful and difficult personal life, over the course of seven-o-long-years, no-min-ue-mo- going downhill ended in great tragedy. The husband, noted by everyone’s kindness towards her, decided to spoil her life and one day sweat I re-signed from my job. Usually bess-lo-weighty, Ana-to-lia is neo-zhi-dan-but, but for herself, from-ve-ti-la hard-smoke from-ka-z. And when he habitually swung at her, Ova-ne-su came and complained.
Let him teach you the ropes,” she said in her heart. - And if you don’t come to your senses, I’ll divorce you. Remember, in my father’s house you don’t put your hands on me anymore!
The husband squinted in a bad way and remained silent. But, having waited for her to go to work, he staged a real pogrom - he knocked down the doors in all the rooms, smashing it -on the rum of the furniture, he didn’t even spare the sun-duk, which Ana-to-lia be-reg-la like the zen-ni-tsu of the eye - there, be-rez- but pro-lo-wives with dry la-van-da and mint leaf, la-zha-li dresses, t-fel-ki and ig-rush-ki of the deceased sisters .
Attracted by the noise, Yasa-man was afraid to go into the house, from her grandson behind her in the library , and she went to the other end of the de-rev-nor - for her husband. When Ova got to the place, Ana-to-lia lay without consciousness on the living room floor, from -thawed to the fullest extent, and on the smooth surface of the oval table there were two deep traces from the blows of the - this is the roaring husband, having spread her out on the hundred-le-low, cutting off the wonderful honey-braids at the root and, shouting to her in the face of the tor-gesting evil-joy: “Now you’ll die without your hair,” - he disappeared from the house, taking it away -Doc all her meager savings. They didn't give anything after him - he managed to drive away in a postal van to the valley, where he perished with finally and never let anyone know about myself again.
Yasa-man you-ha-zhi-va-la under-ru-gu mo-lit-va-mi and tse-leb-ny-mi infusions. The tree, lost by chance, froze in anxious anticipation - everyone remembered the curse , something nis-pos-la-la on the family of Agu-li-santz Vos-ke and Se-voyants Ka-pi-to-na Ta-te-vik.
But Ana-to-lia, to everyone’s relief, quickly went to work and soon went back to work. She still has a long-lo-mi-lo body - especially-ben-but to the re-me-not in the year, and her vision is post-ra-da-lo from the blow -la-com on the head - I had to go to the village to score points for myself, but she didn’t murmur and bowed out. la-de-la and happy, because I finally recovered from the oppressive fear, pres- le-do-vav-she-go all the years of marriage.
Old man Mi-us, waiting for her to pop up, stopped by her house, embarrassed, groaned, -sya for not-pu-te-in-go-power and pre-la-gal for-chi-thread-damaged-furniture, but Ana-to-lia from-ka -wanted to restore something. She somehow carried the broken pieces into the yard and burned them to the ground, the only thing that was left was an oval table made of sea -no-go du-ba, with traces from blows then-on-ra. Ova-nes brought her a shi-fonnier, Ey-bo-ganz Va-lin-ka set-pi-la bed and tah-tu, and Yaku-li-chanz Mag-ta-hi-ne - big de-re-vyan-ny stall. Mi-us, there were inter-room doors and cross-re-forces across the floors. There was no trace left of the once-god's view of the house, but the meager situation did not sadden Ana-to-lya , she always knew how to indulge little ones. Carried-ka-zan-but was glad to see the miracle of the house of the left-she-mu al-bo-mu with the photo-tog-ra-fiya-mi - she took him to work , in order to restore the shock, she just forgot it on the table, which saved him.
There were five years left before the war, with the inevitable frost circling over the valley, and all these years Ana-to-lia pro- lived in a be-less, blessed-gos-lo-ven-comfort. She spends her days in the bib-lio-te-ke, ve-che-ra - at her place or at Yasa-man’s, on weekends at her home nykh in the cemetery - with a wife on my father's mo-gi-le - the weeping willow grew, spreading over the stone-now- We cross our long thin branches, rustle our silvery-green leaves and endless prayers. Ana-to-lia raced between the nadg-ro-biya-mi, if po-in-la-la in the year, until-late, before- lo-vo-go for-ka-ta. Sometimes, behind-the-sy-pa-la, leaning his head to the cool-no-mu khach-ka-ru. On the left is the mother and father, on the right are the sisters and ba-bo Ma-ne. Ana-to-liya si-de-la, obh-va-tiv ko-le-ni ru-ka-mi, and tell them happy stories: about de- those, which every year, thank God, more and more were born, about tea roses that come with their aroma whole swarms of bees, about ant paths stretching from under the floor with tiny stitches to the bib- lio-tech-no-mu po-ro-gu.
So she grew old - slowly and steadfastly, in the vicinity of up-to-the-hearts of prize-cray-kovs, alone, but happy-to-die. Yasa-man, who I imp-of-one-but-honestly under-ru-gi, several times on-me-ka-la, that would not be-ho-ho she should marry again, but Ana-to-lia from-ri-tsa-tel-but ka-cha-la go-lo-voy - it’s too late, and there’s no reason. What did I see good from one husband, so that I could expect good things from the second?
The war happened in the year when she was forty-two. Once upon a time, vague news began to come from the valley about the re-restation on the eastern borders, then the alarm sounded -vo-gu Ova-ness, to-tosh-but chi-melting gas-ze-you. Judging by urgent reports about the battles, things on the borders - the eastern, and then the south-west - were going very badly. The news about the announced general mo-bi-li-za-tion has arrived. A month later, all the men of Ma-ra-na, capable of holding weapons in their hands, were taken to the front. And then the war came to the do-li-nu. She turned around with her ogre-fang-caste top, and grabbed buildings and people into her monstrous mouth. The slope of Ma-nish-Ka-ra, along which the snake ran the only road leading to Ma-ran, was covered na-mi - trace-da-mi from mi-no-meth-obst-re-lov. The village sank for many years into the windless darkness, hunger and cold. Boom-be-ki-o-ro-va-li-nii elek-ro-pe-re-dacha and you-beat-the glass in the windows. I had to pull the frames with a thin film, because there was no place to get new glass, And what's the point of inserting them, if the next attack is not going to turn them into a bunch of wasps? Particularly ben-but without mercy, the bom-beg-ki st-but-were in the se-zone, intending to-but not let-work in the countryside, but the meager harvest from the place won't last long. Firewood to drink the stove and at least get out of the tormented cold, nowhere to go -to be: the forest ki-went enemy-ki-mi la-zut-chi-ka-mi, not sha-div-shi-mi no-go - no women, no old men. It was necessary to set up wooden often-trees for kindling, then - attic roofs and sheds, after a while they became -rat ver-ran-dy.
The first winter was particularly painful, Ana had to re-live in the kitchen, near to the stove. It has become impossible to walk in the other non-tap-able rooms - the windows are covered with film protected from dampness and cold, and the walls and floors were covered with a thick layer of frost, which, if not... it prig-re-va-lo, under-thawed and dripped the lu-zhi-tsa-mi onto the furniture, blankets and carpets, ruining them without return. The meager supplies for the lamps quickly dried up, and then the candles ran out. The school closed with the onset of cold weather, and the library was just as empty. Ana-to-liya nag-ru-zi-la t-lye-ku kni-ha-mi, which she had to re-read during the winter, and the same pot and vas-o-na-mi with plants and brought them home, into the warmth. Behind-go-ro-di-la corner of the kitchen, under-lay-la with-lo-we, per-re-se-li-la there-and-a-me-a-goat - to the end -tsu yan-va-rya brought two goats. And so she spent an endlessly long and cold winter - near the stove, in the vicinity of plants, love- of our books and small me-kay-ka-zo-checks. I had to wash myself in parts, in a wooden co-ry - sleep-a-la head, then the upper part of that-lo- vi-sha, then lower. She walked around, ashamedly, turning back to her back - feeling shy. The winter was snowy, that's why there was no need to go to the spring for water, Ana-to-lia for-cher-py-va - I put snow in a bucket, left some of it overnight - to stand for drinking and cooking, and heated the other on the stove and put it in the laundry - ku and washing in a dishwasher. On Thursday and Friday, you came to sit in mine on the ver-ran-du, so that they would cool down in the cold, and only Tom you-li-vat. According to the old-rin-no-mu, no-kos-ni-tel-but-I-give-my-sha-ma-ran-tsa-mi, I believe I feel the hot water on Thursday It was forbidden to pour even a single heap on the ground - so as not to hurt Christ's feet.
The winter days were similar to each other, like transparent stones in the rosary ba-bo Ma-ne, with which Ana- that-lya never parted. In the morning she went to the hen-coop to pour grain on the poultry and pick up the eggs, then feed the goats, kill - she was in the kitchen and said something quickly, and then read for a short time It's a gloomy day. With the onset of dark night, she dre-ma-la on the sofa, wrapped up in several blankets, or just lay-la-la, on the people are extinguishing the glow of coals through a small hole in the wood-burning stove. There was always an album with photos of relatives under her hand, she leafed through it, wiping away tears with the edge of her hand, Mol-cha-la. There was nothing to talk about, but I didn’t want to sting them.
Weight has come a little later than usual, only in the middle of the winter cold and dark wounded, finally, with relief, you breathed, opened the doors and sang, opened the windows, letting the sunshine into the house. The joy that at last the free-growing, icy winter was so great that for-tmi-la fear of death. The Ma-rans have long been accustomed to the environment, so, without paying any attention to it, they would get busy then you de-la-mi, of which there turned out to be a huge number. No one could have imagined that the cold and dampness that penetrated into someone could cause so much harm to property -woo. It would be necessary to ventilate well and dry the room from the dampness of the winter in order to protect the - a real mold, who managed to get into all the linen sun-du-kis and shi-fonniers. The walls, floors and furniture had to be treated with alum and ku-po-ro-sa, and the washing was lacking a long month, because everything had to be re-set - from bedding and clothes and clothes chi-vaya kov-ra-mi and pa-la-sa-mi. There was so much work that I managed to get into the library only towards the end of the ap-re-la, when I - the bombs were quiet and there were problems at school.
Ana-to-lya kissed her cheek, sighed bitterly, and tears flowed from her eyes. Many years have passed since that day, but every time she coped with deep mental pain with great difficulty when she remembered -na-la, in some disastrous state I found the bib-lio-te-ku. The dampness, penetrating through the film-covered windows, even reached the very top floors, covering a miracle vysch-my spots-on-my shoulder-s-nor-skin-re-rep-le-you and without-return-rat-but-yellow-tev-shie, is-ko-re-wives -th pages of books. Gos-po-di, Gos-po-di, pla-ka-la Ana-to-lia, one after another about the furnished book-works -mi half-ki, what am I on-de-la-la, how come I didn’t save them?
Zag-la-nu-shay in the bib-lio-te-ku di-rekt-ri-sa school about-na-ru-lived her in po-ro-ge: Ana-to-lia si-de -la, hug-a-tiv go-lo-vu ru-ka-mi, and, measuredly growing, roar-da-la - childishly be-zu-tesh-but , sighed. Di-rek-ri-sa - a tall, large woman with a heavy masculine jaw and powerful shoulders - silent vys-lu-sha-la her confused explanations, then went through the bib-lio-te-ke, you-der-well-la science-bastard several books , flipped through them, chatted. She put them back in place, sniffed at her fingers, and winced. You-took-a-the-handkerchief, wiped-your-hands.
Well, what could you do, Ana-to-lia? They would have died anyway.
But how can this be? How so? The old bib-lio-te-kar-sha saved them from the famine, but I couldn’t save them from the war.
Then the windows would have been intact, but now... Who could have known that it would turn out like this!
Ana-to-lia made a futile attempt to save the books. He brought a mo-tok of linen-howling ropes, about-cha-nu-la from ten rows around the yard. About-ve-si-la from edge to edge of books, in the hope that the sun and wind will draw moisture, and there, maybe , we hope to somehow restore them. From the side of the street it seemed as if a flock of colorful birds had soared over the library yard, soared - and hovered in in the air, sadly lowering its useless wings. Ana-to-lia ho-di-la between rya-da-mi, in-ro-shi-la countries. Spent the night in the library, in case it rained. On the second day, the books began to dry up and the wasps began to fall like leaves in autumn. Ana-to-lya collected them, you-were behind the fence, behind the bib-lio-te-ku - and never again came back.
After another seven hard years of war, he retreated, taking his youth with him. Some died, others, in order to save their families, left for calm and prosperous lands. By that time, when Ana-to-lii was gone five-ten-seven, only old-age people remained in Mara-na. ki, who did not leave the earth where their ancestors were buried. Bu-du-chi is my young resident of no-de-rev-no, Ana-to-lia is in no way outwardly different from the same Yasa- man, which is a swarm in the do-che-ri go-di-las. Ho-di-la, like the rest of the old ladies, in long woolen dresses, knitting a front-nick, ubi-ra-la hair sy under the ko-son, ko-ru-yu for-tya-gi-va-la with a miraculous knot on the back of the head. On the blind side, I buttoned up the unchangeable k-mea - the only uk-ra-she-nie that remained from ma-te-ri. None of the Ma-rans cherished the hope that life would one day turn out for the better. The village is mole-ko and pri-go-vo-ren-but lived out its last years, and Ana-to-lia - along with her.
Outside the window, the southern night spread out, in the rob-ki-mi moon-ny-mi lu-cha-mi, ras-ka-zy -wa-la with a gentle cricket-like whirring about the dreams that the world was dreaming. Ana-to-lia le-zha-la on the souls, pressing to the chest of the al-bom with fo-tog-ra-fiya-mi relatives, - and pla-ka-la.
This is the title of the book that I liked so much that I didn’t come up with my own to tell the story about it. Sounds like a parable, doesn't it? What kind of apples are these, and where did they fall?
The story immediately captivated me. Do you know how important the first phrase is? “Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.” If she had sent a maid after them, what would have happened?What is Virginia Woolf's amazing book?
Novel Narine Abgaryan begins like this: “ On Friday, just after noon, when the sun, having crossed the high zenith, rolled sedately towards western edge valley, Sevoyants Anatolia lay down to die" And this happens in the village of Maran, which dangles “like an empty yoke on the shoulder” of Mount Manish-kar. Somewhere in Armenia.
This is a story about a life unknown to most of us. Where everything has its time and its turn: when to play a wedding, when to soweat tobacco, collect mulberries, go for horse sorrel and prepare healing potions. Everyone lives here together, and everyone seems to be in the palm of your hand - “with about all the sorrows, insults, illnesses and rare, but long-awaited joys" The inhabitants of Maran are true to themselves, the unspoken laws and their ideas about the world. They know that roosters scare away death with their crowing, and that there are decisions and actions that are not subject to condemnation.
Behind heroes with names that captivate our ears - Magtakhine, Satenik, Yasaman, Hovhannes - war, terrible famine and an earthquake that destroyed half of the settlement. Maybe that’s why they are so strong, those who survived?
“The earthquake failed to drive me away, will she succeed?” – he nodded angrily towards the cracked wall. Valinka sometimes argued with him, and sometimes she submitted - so be it. Since after so many years he is not tired of fighting with the crack, then okay. Everyone has their own meaning of life and their own war .
There is no fuss in their world. They know how to work here, and every task seems to be filled with special significance, be it cleaning the house to a shine for the arrival of a dear guest or putting in order an abandoned library. Arrange books in it by color, not alphabetically (!), and turn it into “Babylon for living creatures,” where every little bird and bug will find food and shelter.
Once you enter this world, you begin to breathe.” deeply and freely, adapting to a new sense of the dimension of existence, which permeated everything around - from the ancient forest surrounding the top of Manish-kar, each tree of which seemed to speak its own language, and ending with the people”.
There are many unexpected twists in the plot, but retelling them is unmerciful towards the potential reader. I don't want to rob you of the anticipation and enjoyment. The novel has a curious structure; it consists of three large parts: To the One Who Saw, to the One Who Told, and to the One Who Listened. At the end (and not only) tears well up. Because the universe is simpler than others believet is a sage, ... that everything comes to an end. May my beloved Pasternak forgive me for taking liberties! Read it! This is not vulgar melodrama. This book is about worthy and very worthy written.
The quality is excellent, the font is comfortable, the paper is white.
“On Friday, just after noon, when the sun, having fallen through the high zenith, sedately rolled towards the western edge of the valley, Sevoyants Anatolia lay down to die.”
Thus begins one of the few books that I read in a couple of days with great pleasure.
Maran, a small Armenian village located on the top of a mountain, almost cut off from the valley, slowly tells its history and the stories of its few inhabitants. Time here flows slowly and lazily, the seasons replace each other, bringing with them joy or sorrow, timid hope or doom. The inhabitants of the "old people's village" are for the most part good-natured people, sometimes naive, religiously believing in omens and dreams, wonderful and wonderful, touching and funny, with their own traditions and rituals, fears and joys. Knowing how to enjoy little things and approaching life with simple wisdom, they evoke sympathy and do not leave you indifferent. Throughout the story, you want to either laugh with them, rejoicing for them, or bite your lip, empathizing with their grief.
“Once every two or three years, Valinka washed woolen blankets and stitched a constant solar circle in the core - in memory of her mother, sister, brothers and children who passed, like sand through her fingers, into oblivion, to that edge of the universe that is locked from mortals with seven huge seals, each seal - the size of the eye of a needle and the weight of a whole mountain - cannot be seen in order to unlock it, and cannot be moved aside in order to pass through."
An amazingly atmospheric book. Heroes to whom you become attached, you worry, you sincerely rejoice when small and big joys happen to them, you sympathize with them when the next grief is quiet and imperceptible or loudly and backhandedly hits each of them, or even threatens to consign their entire tiny village to oblivion. The book is about life, and despite the fact that grief and death follow on the heels of these sweet people, sometimes not allowing them to raise their heads or breathe calmly, the story turned out to be kind, warm, often funny, bright and touching the soul.
“To be honest, if I found myself in such a situation, I wouldn’t find a place for myself either. But that’s what a man is for, to doubt, but not to retreat.”
“Hunger erased the differences between rich and poor, lined everyone up, as if on the day of the Last Judgment, in one humiliating line to the edge of the grave, tormented them on a grand scale, with undisguised pleasure...”
Interesting presentation, pleasant style, light style. Sometimes the sentences are a little long, but you get used to it and stop losing the thread of the story. The atmosphere of village life, nature, seasons and days is beautifully and easily conveyed. I always like it when the author is able to present not only the “active” part, but also the descriptions and lyrical digressions that are pleasant to read, plunging into the created atmosphere. For those who do not like or are not accustomed to scenes describing natural physiological processes, some moments may not be entirely pleasant, but it is worth reminding yourself that all this is real life, such as it is, and is read with understanding and calm.
"...the closest to heaven are old people and children. Old people because they are leaving soon, and children because they have recently arrived. The former have already guessed, and the latter have not yet forgotten how they smell, heaven."
"Don't open your wounds, otherwise you'll never learn to be happy."
There is also mysticism in the book, so skillfully and neatly woven into storyline, that you perceive it as completely taking place, and that this is exactly how it all happened.
“Without the knowledge and desire of God, a moment of human happiness will not turn into days and weeks. It will remain a moment - fleeting and fleeting. Once you have been given happiness, accept it with gratitude. Do not insult the good intentions of heaven with mistrust, be worthy of the gift they give you awarded."
The author ends his story very interestingly and beautifully. This does not mean the storyline itself (although it very suddenly sometimes turns either joyfully or sadly), but the “final phrase”, which was pleasant and “tasty” to read and find out why the book and the three parts it was called that way divided. I won’t quote - let it remain pleasant for those who want to read the book.
In general, after reading the story, it leaves a pleasant aftertaste with light sadness, a smile on the face and some special warming warmth in the soul.
The origins of the MARAN WINERY go back to 1828-1830, when Sarkis and Maran, the son and daughter-in-law of Einat, Prince Khoy, were repatriated from Persia to the Armenian district of Vayots Dzor. In 1860, Harutyun, the son of Sarkis, planted the most beautiful vineyard in the village in his native village of Artabuynk and named it “Marani aigi” - “Maran Garden” in honor of his mother.
This name passed on to the whole clan - from now on our whole family began to be called Maranents. This vineyard was created on the very spot where in 451 the last Armenian warriors of the Battle of Avarayr heroically fell in the fight against the Persians and where a chapel was subsequently erected and khachkars were sculpted. This place is now called Khachkari - “Under the Khachkars”.
Harutyun’s work was continued by his son, Avag from the Maran clan, a man of difficult fate. Mine last Stand He met the Turks in the Arpa River gorge in the spring of 1920. To avoid being captured, Avag threw himself from a high cliff into the river, and a Turkish bullet hit him when he was already in the water. But by some miracle Avag survived.
They found him purely by chance, three days later, very far from the gorge - near the village of Areni. He lived and worked until 1938 and remained in the history of the village as a man of exceptional courage and modesty. And the high rock rising above Arpa is still called Avagi kar - “Avagi Cliff”.
In 1931, Avag's youngest son, Frunzik, was born. He planted his vineyard back in the fifties of the last century in his native Artabuinka - above the village, at an altitude of 1600 meters and, apparently, in the same place where Sedy’s Garden was located about 900 years ago.
It is not known who the woman named Seda was and when she lived, but one of the inscriptions on the wall of the Tsakhats Kar monastery mentions that back in 1251, a certain benefactor made a deed of gift to the monastery for Seda’s Garden.
Limited Liability Company "Maran" was founded in 1991. At the same time, a test batch of wine was made from Areni grapes. Since 1993, we began selling it under the name "Noravan". The label was designed by architect Narek Sargsyan. Thanks to the original design and the “godfather” of wine Artashes Emin, this wine immediately found its rightful place on the market of cold and lightless Armenia that had just gained independence.
Then came 1996. We have started a new program with our French partners.
The combination of the national traditions of Armenian winemaking and French technologies led to the birth of our new wines - one better than the other, one more successful than the other.
Since 2002, in addition to grape wine, we also produce pomegranate wine called “Makich Parajanov”. We gave this name to the wine in honor of the paternal uncle of the famous director Sergei Parajanov, a winemaker and wine merchant.
Since 2007, hawthorn, apricot and dogwood vodkas have gone on sale under the general brand name “Bark” - this is how fruit wines were called in medieval Armenia. We learned the peculiarities of making vodka of this type from the ancient manuscripts of Matenadaran.
We participated in many exhibitions and received gold and silver medals. We went beyond the borders of Armenia and won the hearts of many, so it is not at all by chance that today our products occupy a special place among Armenian wines and are exported to Russia and France.
Our vineyard was founded in 2000-2001 in the Vayots Dzor village of Akhavnadzor. By the way, this is where most of the vineyards of Vayots Dzor are located - about 500 hectares. At the bottom they almost run into the river, and at the top they drown in the clouds.
Akhavnadzor winegrowers claim that they are the oldest Armenians in the world and that their village has existed since the time of Patriarch Noah. Allegedly, after the Great Flood, when the Ararat plain was still covered with water, Noah again released a dove, and the bird brought a grape cutting from their gorge. This is where the name of the village came from - Akhavnadzor, that is, Pigeon Gorge.
Armine is the executive director of Marana. Her roots are from the Leilan garden and the Nrbin fortress, in the Vayots-Dzor village of Yelpin: her father Sergei and mother Sirvard were born here - people as glorious as their village.
In the immense love for the world of Armine, the truly lovely maiden Nairi, lies the secret of our wine - wine, every drop of which is imbued with her tireless care, filled with her kindness and affection.
Our cellars are managed by the “handsome” Dero. Elpinets. Noble, like our wine, or maybe the wine itself has absorbed its nobility. And every day the world becomes better and kinder, for each of our bottles, which set off on their way to distant markets, carries with it the childlike purity and crystal clarity of Dero’s soul.
The future of "Maran" is the sons of Avag and Armine - Frunzik-Vahagn and Tigran "along with our first harvest. For they themselves are descendants of the vine and were baptized in Noravank.
Wines and fruit vodkas
We produce both grape and fruit wines. Grape varieties - dry, semi-sweet and sweet - are made mainly from the Vayots Dzor Black Areni variety. We sell both dry and sweet after at least one and a half years of barrel aging.
In some cases, they are also stored in bottles - this is already a collection wine. We sell semi-dry and semi-sweet ones mainly the year after harvest.
From fruits we produce pomegranate and apricot wine. Pomegranates are from the Martakert region of Artsakh - Karabakh, and apricots are from Yeghegnadzor. Pomegranate wine, like grape wine, is available in all varieties, while apricot wine is so far only semi-sweet.
Alfiya Islamovna Smirnova
Speaker
Professor
Moscow City Pedagogical University
1000
2017-03-15
Key words, abstract
Ethnopoetics, novel, space, locus, model of the world, mythopoetics.
Theses
The model of the world in Narine Abgaryan’s novel “Three Apples Fell from the Sky” is based on opposition top (mountain, rock) And bottom (valley). At the center of the novel is the life of the inhabitants of the small Armenian village of Maran, perched on a shoulder that survived the “terrible earthquake.” mountains Manish-kara. Life on the top of a mountain near heaven shaped the mentality and fortitude of the Maranese, who did not want to leave their native village after what happened. The semantics of the image of Manishkara incorporates different meanings: elevation (climbing a mountain involves overcoming difficulties), ascent (the top of the mountain touches the heavens, is a symbol of spiritual growth), the sacred center of the world. The village is located high, the valley is low. ABOUT valley Little is known, but she is invisibly present in the life of the village. The Valley and the Mountain are connected with each other: for the Maranians, the valley is a place of study and treatment, temporary residence, a source of help and news. After the earthquake, Maran's life was divided into two halves: before cataclysm and after. Opposition Then And Now models the image of the world and is realized in the text in the loci of the maidan, the forge, the library, and the house. The mythopoetic model of the world presented in the novel symbolizes the revival of the Marans to life after the apocalypse they experienced. From this moment, a new countdown of time begins for them: from the year of the arrival of Noah’s flock in the village, and a new history of Maran.Spatial images of Manish-kara mountain, valley, Maran village, meydan, house and opposition top bottom, past/present perform a world-modeling function in the novel, contributing to the disclosure of the ethnopoetic picture of the world. And although different stylistic layers are intertwined in the text, the image of Maran appears as a single, holistic and eternal, as a mythopoetic model of the world.
