Very bad English / Очень плохой English. Яна Варшавская
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you looked into my eyes, and the cup of coffee, balancing on the saucer, could not resist to fall to my feet. I involuntarily bit my lower lip, so as not to scream.
«Does it hurt?» You asked.
«Not much. But I'm sorry about the shoes!» I answered.
«You won't believe it, but this is the first time with me! I'm so clumsy!» You exclaimed, looking at my red suede pumps. Dark brown splashes have now been absorbed, and turned into ugly stains with small grains of black coffee.
«As far as I understand, there's no use in cleaning them…»
«Probably,» I sighed.
«My name is Igor!»
«Eva,» I answered.
«Eva? Really? Cool! I owe you shoes, at least… And coffee, if you don't mind?»
«I don't. Anyway, I'm here to meet my sister and I have a lot of time…»
How many years have passed since then?… It seems that all this happened yesterday!
And if it weren't for our boys, I could swear it was yesterday!
Tomorrow you will be thirty, Styopa and Daniel are seven! Who could know you were born on the same day! There are three men in the house and all are birthday people!
Mom always sympathizes with me, thinking that on this day I fulfill all your whims…
Of course, I will give you your, no, my favorite perfume, Baldessarini… The very one that I felt in the coffee house when I met you…
Taska is smart.
She has a whole classification of meetings:
1. Fateful meetings…
2. Meetings that do not oblige to anything and leave a kind of bright sadness…
3. Meetings that you remember all your life, but nothing can be changed for a number of reasons…
Your each and every touch
Is like an electric discharge.
Your look, relentless and sweet
And a moment that's infinite…
You stopped at the door for a while
And burned my cheek with your tip
Thousand candles of love fire
And the flame of hottest lips…
The lighting pierces my soul
So I can't utter a sound…
My trusting gaze turns to yours:
It's eye to eye, and we're bound.
It's not an electric discharge,
But the gravity of the earth…
Your gentle eyes plead me at large
Surrender without remorse.
And the earth seems to swing…
I sometimes forget to breathe
I love you! I love you more than anything…
I walk on the edge with ease…
The colors mixed into a filth:
Gray heavy clouds above the earth…
Beautiful words turn into mist,
We met against all odds…
You're too polite, and very sweet
But my heart remains calm and still…
I had the strength to cool the heat
To stay impregnable and chill…
My goodness! What a rapid change…
The sun has barely touched your glance!
Now I must seem so cruel and strange…
I pray to give me one last chance…
Alas! You'll never look at me…
Though I was just a moment late!
So sorry… Now you cannot see
One touch of love that still awaits…
Mixed colors make everything gray:
Dull heavy clouds above the ground…
But I'll be happy anyway
I'll be around, I'll be around…
Big square of an ancient city
Azure silky sky;
You couldn't find a decent reason,
So you freely came by…
Although you spoke in English,
I understood you without a word,
You seemed to be very near
Coming from recent thoughts…
Big square of an ancient city,
I'm surrounded by pals
Why do I need a good reason
To send Colosseum to hell?
I quietly apologized
Came up with stupid excuses
And rushed without ending the talk,
So clumsy and so confusing…
Columns, arches, ancient city;
Fountain, steps… I see you sit…
I could find another reason
Paris could wait a little bit…
Then you smiled as we were walking
Putting sunglasses aside
Touched your hair as we were talking
And lights sparkled in your eyes…
The circle of columns and buildings…
Changed tomorrow to yesterday;
You smiled goodbye to my feelings
And, just like a dream, flew away…
Lord, I just don't understand how can she build and systematize such a gamut of human feelings!!!
Taska, I remember my promise.
Chapter 3
A Miracle…
If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It's lethal.
January 23, 2016.
Monday.
You know, I always envied you. Not just because of the way you feel about life and know how to color gray dull everyday life.
No. I envied your dreams…
How do you do it?
Today… You just came up and told your dream, without resorting to various tricks and metaphors, in casual words.
You only mentioned that the dream was colorful as always.
And then I saw what you dreamed…
My imagination added brightness to its colors and space to its volume.
I even felt the wind play with my hair.
And also the smell. The smell of ripe wheat…
Yes.
But in a dream, all this is absolutely obvious things. Objects that have become significant for some reason become the same height as secondary ones, those that are much higher… Those that are now in front of the eyes or lens. A twenty-story tall wheat.
I see it in every detail, as if looking at it through a magnifying glass.
I