Blue and green
Vladimir Shevchuk
Airplane or the sky beckons
Let all those who fly and students take off.
There are those who can fly and those who cannot. We, those who can, are called airplanes (we called ourselves that, “we fly ourselves”), the rest, those who don’t fly, are called differently, I don’t even know what, I wasn’t interested. The only purpose of non-flying ones (as you should have guessed, I come from airplanes, i.e. flying) is to feed us and take care of our well-being, for which we sometimes lift them into the air. We are superior. Damn, I'm really talking. I wanted to tell you how I learned to fly, but moved on to glorifying those who fly. So, memories. —————— — TeTe, why don’t you fly? Lord, how many people have asked me this question. And now my own mind began to terrorize me. - I'm studying! I'm studying! I'm studying! — the words were spoken out loud, and the rest of the planes turned around at my exclamation and shook their heads sadly. - Everything is fine TeTe. Calm down. — eSeH21 thought that I had another nightmare. “I’m fine,” waving the flaps, I ran along the runway. The night air was soothing, flowing around me from all sides. The stars beckoned, and the moon created a double on the asphalt chasing me. What a beautiful night. How I love the night. Peace and quiet. You can’t hear the roar of turbines or the whistle of tearing space. I run away to the edge of the runway, and then I rush around like crazy, running over to the neighboring ones and scaring away the unwary flightless ones. They either cursed me or encouraged me, and I moved on. I just left, but didn't take off. I was afraid to take off, although everyone thought that this is all I do at night, and not just rush around the runways like a madman. I was simply afraid, but for the sake of reason I came up with more convincing (or less humiliating reasons). I told everyone, including myself, that if I fly during the day, I will be uncontrollably drawn towards the sun, and unable to stop, I am drawn into it and melt, and therefore I fly at night. And no one knew that my nozzles were still sealed. No, they certainly weren’t solid, otherwise how could I release jets of hot air, but they weren’t hollow either. A flight was needed so that the jets and fire could destroy the adhesions. Usually, during the night, I spent so much fuel that in the morning, the flightless tankers were whispering and arguing about how far I was flying. And I laughed quietly or cried, depending on my mood and the weather. 02/26/99 // 23:03:04 —- The day crept up unnoticed. Just now, the east only brightened a little, and now a piece of the sun has already appeared. TeTe drove into the hangar and dozed off, indulging in dreams about future flights. —— — Te.., tell me how to make a loop — I opened the side window. HeeH stood next to me and waited with bated breath for detailed instructions. “Damn, I, who had never flown, instructed everyone in the art of flying. I told you how to overcome fear, accelerate, take off, and blow out nozzles. I told everything, and therefore everyone considered me the ace of aces, although they had never seen me fly. They thought that I was hiding some special flight secrets, but no one had yet managed to catch up with me at night. They were jealous of me. Fools. Damn, what fools they are, and yet there is no one to ask for advice. The station computers from which I learned to extract data could not help me. It all came down to the words (Help yourself). Okay, at least I can help someone.” And I started the instructions, in a loop. HeeH, having listened to my last word, rolled out of the hangar, he began warming up in the middle of the briefing. I closed my eyes, and everyone watched with bated breath, his dead loop, it was crooked, but many did not know how to make such a thing. And so they congratulated each other in a whisper on the new secret they had received from me. —- Night was falling on the field. TeTe started the engines and rolled out of the hangar. And again the night wind, and again reflections, blown out of the still dormant consciousness, are carried through space. Some planes climbed out of the hangars to follow him with their gaze. TeTe passed by faster than many could fly. He passed the end of the lane, entered the highway, and rushed along it. —- No one can stop my crazy trip. It’s night, everyone is sleeping, both flying and non-flying. Almost all. Suddenly, a tanker (one of the non-flying ones) drove onto the highway in front of me. Idiot. The fire rushed through the nozzle, melting the partitions. The flaps rose to a vertical position, and I suddenly took off from the ground. The melted tanker was still dying in the middle of the highway, but I was already far, high up. —————— I am a flyer and I fly. I fly faster and more beautiful than everyone else, and they dream with bated breath of watching my flights. But I appear among them only occasionally. For me, in the world there are only: the air rushing with wings, the wind playing with clouds, and the sun, moon and stars that illuminate my path. No one will stop my flight as long as I believe that I can fly. And I believe. That's why I fly.
Yuri Kazakov – Blue and green
Yuri Kazakov
BLUE AND GREEN
1
“Lily,” she says in a deep, chesty voice and gives me a warm little hand.
I carefully take her hand, shake it, and let go. I mutter my name as I do so. It seems that I didn’t even realize right away that I needed to say my name. The hand that I just let go of turns softly white in the darkness. “What an extraordinary, gentle hand!” — I think with delight.
We are standing at the bottom of a deep yard. There are so many windows in this square, dark courtyard: there are blue, and green, and pink, and just white windows. Music can be heard from the blue window on the second floor. They turned on the radio and I heard jazz. I really love jazz, no, not dancing - I don’t know how to dance - I like listening to good jazz. Some people don't like it, but I do. I don't know, maybe it's bad. I stand and listen to jazz music from the second floor, from the blue window. Apparently, there is an excellent receiver there.
There is a long silence after she says her name. I know that she expects something from me. Maybe she thinks that I will speak, say something funny, maybe she is waiting for my first word, some question, so that she can speak herself. But I am silent, I am completely at the mercy of the extraordinary rhythm and the silver sound of the trumpet. It’s so good that the music is playing and I can be silent!
Finally we get under way. We go out onto a bright street. There are four of us: my friend and his girlfriend, Lilya and me. We are going to the cinema. The first time I go to the cinema with a girl, the first time I was introduced to her, and she gave me her hand and said her name. A wonderful name, pronounced in a chest voice! And so we walk side by side, completely strangers to each other and at the same time strangely familiar. There is no more music and I have nothing to hide behind. My buddy is lagging behind with his girlfriend. In fear, I slow down my steps, but they walk even slower. I know he's doing this on purpose. It's very bad of him to leave us alone. I never expected such betrayal from him!
What should I say to her? What does she like? Cautiously, I look at her from the side: shiny eyes in which the lights are reflected, dark, probably very coarse hair, knitted thick eyebrows, giving her the most decisive look... But for some reason her cheeks are tense, as if she is holding back a laugh. What should I tell her anyway?
— Do you love Moscow? - she suddenly asks and looks at me very sternly. I flinch at her deep voice. Does anyone else have a voice like this?
I am silent for a while, catching my breath. Finally I gather my strength. Yes, of course, I love Moscow. I especially love Arbat alleys and boulevards. But I love other streets too... Then I fall silent again.
We go out to Arbat Square. I start whistling and put my hands in my pockets. Let him think that getting to know her is not that interesting to me. Just think! In the end, I can go home, I live nearby, and it’s not at all necessary for me to go to the cinema and suffer, seeing how her cheeks tremble.
But we still come to the cinema. There are still fifteen minutes before the start of the session. We stand in the middle of the foyer and listen to the singer, but it’s hard to hear her: there are a lot of people around us, and everyone is talking quietly. I have long noticed that those who stand in the foyer do not listen well to the orchestra. Only those in front listen and applaud, while those in the back eat ice cream and candy and talk quietly. Deciding that you still won’t hear the singer properly, I begin to look at the paintings. I never paid attention to them before, but now I'm very interested. I think about the artists who painted them. Apparently, it was not in vain that these paintings were hung in the foyer. It's great that they hang here.
Lilya looks at me with sparkling gray eyes. How beautiful she is! However, she is not at all beautiful, she just has sparkling eyes and rosy, strong cheeks. When she smiles, dimples appear on her cheeks, and her eyebrows diverge and no longer seem so strict. She has a high, clean forehead. Only sometimes a wrinkle appears on it. She's probably thinking at this time.
No, I can't stand with her anymore! Why is she looking at me like that?
“I’ll go have a smoke,” I say abruptly and casually, and go into the smoking room. There I sit down and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s strange, but when there is a lot of smoke in the room, when the air is completely dark with smoke, for some reason you don’t want to smoke. I look around: a lot of people are standing and sitting. Some talk calmly, others silently smoke hurriedly, take a greedy drag, throw away half-smoked cigarettes and quickly leave. Where are they going? Interestingly, if you smoke greedily, the cigarette becomes sour and bitter. It is best to smoke slowly, little by little. I look at my watch: there are still five minutes until the session. No, I'm probably stupid after all. Others get to know each other so easily, talk, laugh. Others are terribly witty, talking about football or anything else. They argue about cybernetics. I would never talk to a girl about cybernetics. And Lilya is cruel, I decide, she has coarse hair. My hair is soft. This is probably why I sit and smoke, although I don’t feel like smoking at all. But I’ll still sit still. What should I do in the lobby? Looking at the pictures again? But these are bad paintings, and it is not known why they were hung. It's a good thing I never noticed them before.
Finally the call. I very slowly leave the smoking room, looking for Lilya in the crowd. Without looking at each other, we go into the auditorium and sit down. Then the lights go out and the movie starts.
When we leave the cinema, my friend completely disappears. It affects me so much that I stop thinking about anything at all. I just go and remain silent. There is almost no one on the streets. Cars rush by quickly. Our steps echo off the walls and can be heard far away.
So we get to her house. We stop again in the courtyard. It’s late, not all the windows are lit, and the courtyard is darker than it was two hours ago. Many white and pink windows have gone out, but the green ones are still burning. The blue window on the second floor is also lit, but music can no longer be heard from there. We stand completely silent for some time. Lilya behaves strangely: she raises her face, looks at the windows, as if counting them; she almost turns away from me, then begins to straighten her hair... Finally, I very casually, as if casually, say that we still need to meet tomorrow. I am very glad that it is dark in the yard and she does not see my burning ears.
She agrees to meet. I can come to her, her windows face the street. She's on vacation, her family has gone to the country, and she's a little bored. She will be happy to go for a walk.
I wonder if it would be polite to shake her hand goodbye. She herself extends her narrow hand to me, white in the darkness, and I again feel her warmth and trust.
2
The next day I come to her before dark. There are a lot of guys in the yard this time. Two of them are with bicycles: they are going somewhere; but maybe they have already arrived? The rest are just standing there. It seems to me that they are all looking at me and know perfectly well why I came. And I just can’t walk through the yard, I go to her windows on the street. I look out the window and clear my throat.
- Lilya, are you home? - I ask loudly. I ask very loudly, and my voice does not tremble. It’s truly remarkable that my voice didn’t break.
Yes, she's home. She has a friend. They are arguing about something interesting, and I have to resolve this dispute.
- Go quickly! - Lilya calls me.
But I can’t bear to walk through the yard, I just can’t walk through the yard...
- I’ll get in through the window! - I say decisively and jump onto the window. I very easily and beautifully jump onto the window, throw one leg over the sill, and then I only notice my friend’s mocking surprise and Lily’s confusion. I immediately realize that I did something awkward and freeze astride the window: one leg on the street, the other in the room. I sit and look at Lilya.
- Well, climb in! - Lilya says impatiently. Her eyebrows come together and her cheeks become more and more red.
“I don’t like hanging around in rooms in the summer...” I mutter, making an arrogant face. - I’d better wait for you outside.
I jump off the window and go to the gate. How they laugh at me now! I know the girls are all cruel and never understand us. Why did I come here? Why should I serve as a laughing stock! It's best for me to leave. If you run now, you can reach the end of the street and turn the corner before she comes out. Should I run away or not? I think for a second: will this be convenient? Then I turn around and suddenly see Lilya. She and her friend come out of the gate, look at me, the laughter has not yet died out in her eyes, and dimples play on her cheeks.
I don't look at my friend. Why is she coming with us? What will I do with both of them? I remain silent, and Lilya begins to talk to her friend. They talk, but I am silent. When we pass by posters, I read them carefully. Posters can sometimes be read from the end, then funny guttural words come out. We reach the corner, and then my friend begins to say goodbye. I look at her with gratitude. She is very beautiful and smart.
My friend leaves, and we go to Tverskoy Boulevard. How many lovers walked along Tverskoy Boulevard! Now we are walking along it. True, we are not lovers yet. However, maybe we are lovers too, I don’t know. We walk quite far from each other. About a meter apart. The linden trees have already bloomed. But there are a lot of flowers in the flower beds. They don’t smell at all, and no one probably knows their names.
