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"To embrace the Lake"

To embrace the Lake

It gleamed through needles of larches, it was the blue bulk of the Lake Baikal, something infinite, incompatible in the scale with his ideas of objects and things, incomparable with the actual knowledge about aqua and space (probably occupied by water); something mighty, having will, strength, character or even willfulness, something alive, still incomprehensible and unapproachable.

“The beast!” he groaned.

“Where is the beast?”

“Your Baikal is the beast, not the lake!”

“You will see it now!”

He tried the water by foot, and then by hand; took a mouthful of water: “I am domesticizing you”. The Lake dreamed; its calm waves approached him, this hydrous monster seemed to be quite peaceful and caressing; madly beautiful, it was the product of nature; it was the Nature per se which incarnated in endless masses of water, closed in the still space and time and striving to leave the set limits. For the indestructible and sleeping force dreams in the Lake; roots of trees lie on the bank, and they are averted and dry, they are the memory about its still unknown force.

“I would like to live my life here. Perhaps, it would not seem so Lilliputian to me”. “Don’t you know what guys think about while drinking vodka on the Baikal banks? Yes, about the feeling of one’s own pride. Everybody feels himself a giant, Omnipotent, Terminator, winner and ever-living”.

It was necessary to drink in all that endless blue space, last, approaching infinity – somewhere in the skies, cognize pureness and transparence of water, remember, take in the eyes – merely add some blueness in the orbits; know the spaciousness by peripheral vision, swoop, remember: will I see it again anymore?

Vodka in the veins and Dutch courage; it means that any drunken man feels the depth of the Lake Baikal as if it is just near his knees; I go there, I am going to you, I embrace you with my arms and soul, I go feeling your cold, ice blood, I am going to encompass you with stretched arms, throttle you because I am mad of you; I am going to clasp you, Baikal!

Olga Ye. Bichenkova – translated on August 13, 2014

Категория: Проза | Добавил: sci-ru (28.08.2014)
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