Аннотация: Рассказ "Обет Богу" на английском языке
Alexander Kurasov.
Vow to God.
To the diplomats of Germany working in Moscow in the sixties, it is devoted.
The captured sat slightly not so far from other soldiers and, having hung the head, looked to itself at feet, at the earth on which the August sun shone.
The escort settled under a shadow of a tree and, probably, dozed.
By passed rare cars, calls were heard by tram, people somewhere hurried. Here some months the group captured near Tsvetnoy Boulevard was occupied with boulevard reorganization. Muscovites already got used to this picture as knew that the captured restored the city, fulfilling the poor food.
Many Muscovites had no also such and starved everything equally.
Who as could, that and survived. The witness of those years Vladimir Vysotsky in the poem "The ballad about the childhood" will precisely notice it:
На стройке немцы пленные
На хлеб меняли ножики.
that on English sounds approximately so:
On building Germans captured
For bread changed knives.
Many passed by, remaining indifferent, others stopping, someone, having crossed, went further, and others stretched something to Germans. The tobacco pinch, piece of sugar, or saccharin tablet, rye cracker could be it "something".
Some of Muscovites said words of a damnation and, having spitted out, went further. But elderly women who having stopped were more often such in the majority, faded and retired into her, remaining in private with the thoughts.
Their thin, worn-out faces became as stone, and not one nerve did not give out their prostration. Everything the sobbed-out deeply sunk down eyes looked without blinking view of one of soldiers also imagined the husband or the son, the brother or the close relative who was gone in fire of war.
Sometimes in hands they held funeral letters.
Roads of war scattered soldiers and the horses stolen in bondage and children on all planet, in its most remote corners, and for them which have survived in the homeland until the end of the days will search and to mourn.
The boy approached to the captured German and when his shadow laid down on feet captured closer, he stopped. The soldier raised the head and began to look at the boy. Children often approached to captured in hope to receive any small thing, one that handymen, people who find in any situation to itself occupation made to pass away time or to deliver someone pleasure. The boy considered captured, captured it. All horrors of war that it brought to neither the people of Europe still nobody represented - neither captured nor the boy. The kid knew that all of them are fascists that they should be killed as adults said that they burned down villages, killed people or stole them in slavery and to carry out it he always carried a slingshot in a pocket.
Splinter of beaten cast iron easily it was possible to beat out an eye or to cut an eyebrow, a forehead, a cheek - where you will get if, of course, you get.
They looked at each other and suddenly the German in pure Russian asked:
- How call you the kid?
The little boy did not expect such turn of business. He knew some words from this that children spoke in such cases: 'Hände hoch!', 'Kaput' and one more couplet, in which
"дер фатер унд ди мутер поехали на хутор, а там беда случилась- ди киндер получилась'
that in combined English-German sounds approximately so
' Der Vater und die Mutter went on the farm, and there the trouble happened - die kinder happened'.
But that here so this German spoke in Russian he could not imagine.
The kid looked at his unshaven person, the faded single-breasted coat and did not know how to arrive. Mechanically he lowered a hand in a pocket where the slingshot lay, and took a step back. The sun blinded the person captured and he quickly covered eyes with a hand.
- Be not afraid the kid.
- I am not afraid, - the little boy answered and groped in other pocket a charge for a slingshot. Just now he saw how on a cheek of the captured German the tear rolled down. Because of memories of the house, or from a sunlight this tear was rolled out from eyes, but this tear worked on the kid and he grudged it soldiers and there was a wish to regret it. But what it could? What he could think up words how to call itself?
Mother always called him Shurik (Шурик), boys called Sanya (Саня), and the neighbor for fun called once Macedon.
- Uncle Sergey why you call me Macedon?
- Therefore that Macedon too was Alexander. Got that?
The boy not for long kept silent and then loudly said: "Sashka"
- Sa-shka, - elongated the word captured, - what this word means?
The kid did not know that means his name, remembered the neighbor who named him Macedon, but decided to keep silent. The pause was tightened, the sentry dozed, other captured Germans spoke about something and, having a little grown bolder, the boy asked:
- And why you speak in Russian? ?
- If you know German, then let's speak on German, - having slightly smiled the German answered. - I hope that you know this language?
Sanya did not know what to answer. It did not catch in words of captured humor, and those words that he knew on German, obviously did not suffice to declare the knowledge of language. Without knowing how to arrive further, Sanya was groped in a pocket among "ammunition" by the bedraggled slice of oilcake. This slice was two days ago a slice from a big tile which mother gave it, but now, having clamped it in a pocket, he thought to give or not to give it to the German. "This fascist will gobble up all piece within one moment, and after all oilcake can be useful to me in the evening".
The boy looked at the escort and stretched cake to the captured.
- What is it?
- Take if give. You will want to eat luggage in a mouth. I to them muffle the second day hunger.
- Thanks, but I will hold it in remembrance our acquaintance, Sa-shka,
Sanya turned and ran to the house.
The captured turned a slice of oilcake in a hand and slowly put it in a breast pocket. What he thought about in this sunny day?
The boy reminded the soldier of his house, the wife, the daughter. After all his small daughter if she is live, now looks as this kid. Whether the last years it daily again and again mentally came back to the house and always the intrusive idea did not leave it "are they live now? whether his house escaped? Germany capitulated, the cities are destroyed, probably, everything looks as well as here. Whether we are fated to meet?"
The captured German soldier closed eyes. Very often, thinking about native or close, we forget about all the others, about everything that is created around. But whether you thought, the soldier, of them when went on our destroyed villages and the cities? Whether the thought crept in to you, what on a place of the ashes there can be your wife with the daughter on her hands? Now there came enlightenment, and you asked God, without asking indulgence to, if only to keep them life. The boy, without knowing about it, disturbed your wounds and you, having touched through pocket cloth a oilcake slice, gave itself a vow, addressing to God:
- My God, if I eat this slice, punish me and my family!
And God heard you. It kept them life. It kept them the house in which you left them, leaving on east front. You the soldier, kept the Russian people which took you prisoner, instead of shot down, you were kept by passerby' people who could scratch to your eyes, but did not make it. The national grief is too great to justify any act of violence over the defenseless German, but also the pleasure of a victory and pride of winners was great was above small revenge. The people which won, did not revenge those against whom won.
Years passed. Moscow and all country will heal for a long time the wounds. Captured soldiers who will survive, will come back home. Much will be erased from memory, and that "fleeting acquaintance" German soldier and Russian boy will drop out of Alexander's memory (that boy Sanya who became now an adult), but for the rest of life remains in memory of the German soldier, the citizen of the Federal Republic of Germany.
Many years later he will arrive to work to Moscow as the embassy secretary, and some months before to departure to him will arrived his daughter. Mister will look at the faces of young people with hope to meet the matured boy, but life will dispose so that it happens some hours prior to his flying away. But we will not advance an event.
Alexander and Ursula got acquainted at a concert of the well-known military ensemble in a hall of a name of Tchaikovsky where there is a Mayakovskaya metro station. The destiny needed to put them in the auditorium nearby, they found admiration words for ensemble and after a concert young people agreed about a meeting. If people are nice to each other, they will always find opportunity to agree that more than once confirmed life, be it the personal relations, production or business. But for those times, such friendship in the Soviet Union in principle was impossible.
- Sascha, - slowly selecting words with strong accent Ursula spoke, - that there is your name. My name on Latin Ursus that there is a bear.
- Bear! I mean I will call you a 'Medvezhonok' .
- What there is a Medvezhonok?
- Medvezhonok is Bear cub. This is a small cub of a bear. In Russian tenderly "mishutka" or "mishka" speak.
- I want to be " mishka ", you call me so.
- Agreed, - Sascha answered, having confirmed with this word that he understood everything and from now on her will call only this way.
- How to write it?
Sascha lifted a rolling branch and " Mischka " wrote on the earth in Russian and in German.
Alexander showed to Ursula Moscow. They went on the museums, and once when they examined wedding palace that was near his house, them invited to a wedding. At a wedding young people celebrated until late at night.
Impression collected and collected. When they were in the museum of the Soviet army, Alexander noticed how Ursula attentively considered an exposition about concentration camps and, without having sustained, sharply told "go".
Conversation about parents did not come but it was unnecessary for two young people. Now their meetings took place in his small room in a communal flat where words faded into the background more often, but time inevitably approached their separation and both knew it.
- Sasha will have the Frau and many kinder.
- Mishka, it as a playing card will lay down.
- What there is a card?
- It is destiny.
- I will give my son your name; you will give to the daughter mine. I love you.
- Well. I love you too.
In one of the last meetings Sasha learned from Ursula that the father knows about their meetings, but it is secret of three: her, him and father.
- The father very much wants to see you.
When Alexander saw approaching the daughter with the father his excitement passed. He expected to see the respectable diplomat, but near the daughter there was a modest man approximately years of sixty, nothing different from our passersby. The father was small growth, in a gray suit; his head already started growing bald.
They got acquainted.
Mister thanked Alexander that he found a lot of time for the daughter.
- To me it is inconvenient before the daughter, - mister started talking in Russian. - I invited her to Moscow, and to pay it attention there is no time, you helped out. Thank you, Alexander.
- You well speak Russian.
- I before war learned your language, in captivity I improved it.
- You were in captivity?
- Yes! I was a translator in front airfield and heard such words that will find not in one dictionary.
- I guess, - said Alexander and smiled.
- Your aircraft covered us, and in some hours tanks and infantry blocked a field. Did not remain one plane to fly up.
Gradually mister passed to the story about captivity. He wanted to tell a lot of things, being afraid to miss something or foreknowing that other interlocutor any more will not be.
- Alexander, you believe in God? - Suddenly he asked. And, without waiting for the answer, began to tell about the Moscow boy who in the forties presented to him, to be exact, allowed him to eat a oilcake slice. Alexander listened without interrupting, but having heard these words strong squeezed Ursula's shoulder, something forgotten of post-war time began to recur to his memory.
- I carried this souvenir through all life. How I kept it and what it meant to me, I know only and God. And he raised eyes to the sky. He got a graceful casket from a side pocket and gently opened it. At a view of a casket it was possible to bet that there is either a brilliant of blue water or a gold ring of manual operation.
But it is not. On a black velvet lie the slice of the oilcake that pressed thin rubber lay. Having seen it, Alexander pressed Ursula even stronger, his feet weakened, on eyes the treacherous tear ran. He remembered August, a sunny day and captured, who well speaking in Russian.
- You cry? - The diplomat asked.
- Your story made on me big impression. I remembered my childhood. Excuse me. Well, if to assume that you would meet this boy you would return him this amulet?
- No! I would give everything to meet him, but to give this amulet - no, no, and once again not. You believe in God? Do not answer. I vowed to God and I will be faithful to him up to the end. Maybe I bequeath it to the daughter, as a great symbol connected two people who seemed to one another enemies. But when the kid gave me this slice of oilcake were not enemies. You understand me? It should be endured everything and I want to believe that the decent person grew up from the kid. Because without compassion of people cannot be called as the person.
I always considered your people great. I learned your language, read works of writers and poets in the original and, leaving Moscow, I will take away with myself the best memoirs. I am very glad to acquaintance to you. I such also represented you, judging by words of my daughter. I did not meet that young man and how I could find him in such big city? But it became much easier for me that I told about it to you.
If you find necessary sometime to tell about it is I will be glad. Let God bless you!
Alexander squeezed Ursula's hand. Hot tears that ready to begin to flow dimmed his eyes. Ursula did not understand words of his father which he told in Russian but intuitively she knew that the father thanks Sasha for everything - for that that he live in the world, for the destiny, presented to him this amulet and for opportunity to confess to foreign person which became dear person for my daughter.
- You cry?
- Everything will be OK. Let's say goodbye and remember each other.
- I spoke much but I felt it as the debt which should be given.
- Thank you. Ursula will tell you about our contract and it will prolong our memory and mutual respect. You depart tonight, and I need to wish you happy journey. Here a small bench we will sit down before your flying away as it is accepted at us and we will keep silent.
They sat down. Alexander embraced Ursula and pressed to itself.
Tears and the lump which has risen to a throat smothered him.
1965 came to an end!
The Years passed.
Alexander married the Russian woman and at them was born two children. Alexander sent to Ursula the photo with the son Arcady and daughter Ursula but some years later after obtaining the last letter communication between them stopped. In what there was a reason Alexander did not know?
Certainly the reasons it is possible to list much but once Alexander received the letter. The letter was printed on the machine. Having started it looking through and slowly to translate Sascha felt pain under heart. The young man who reported wrote that his mother was lost in a road accident three months ago. Sorting its things he found some letters in Russian directed on an envelope to mother, but because of difficulty of transfer understood nothing.
In the letter it was spoken: "I consider a duty to report to you about the happened. Under letters there was expensive work a casket in which something lay. I do not know that it. If you decide to answer me and to tell that you know of contents of a casket and those letters that mother to you so carefully stored I will be very grateful.
Yours faithfully Alexander!"
In the bottom of the letter there was a date and the long signature.
Having put nitroglycerine under language and a hand on heart in which the ambassador of operation there was a shunt Alexander lay down on a sofa. Memoirs from an August sunny day and conversation with the captured German soldier to the last line of the last letter were carried by as in a kaleidoscope.
Heart began to hurt a little less, but years prevailed.