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Анна Шустерман: литературный дневник

Valenki


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Dad died in 1955, in March.


March in Bryansk is not spring yet, but it's not winter anymore...


On my five-year-old feet, the felt boots that are too big for me do this: squelch, squelch, squelch...


I also squelch my nose and blow my nose into the hem of my mother's skirt.


Mom's sister, who came to the funeral, is not happy with my behavior.


Well, I'm not very happy with her behavior either.


She's whispering to my mother about me.


Eavesdropping, peeping at them like cat Waska, but not purring, but crying quietly.


I have to go with my aunt to Odessa, where there is the sea - the Black Sea is called.


I am very sad, ask my cat Vaska, he is very observant.


I ask him: "Vasya, how should I go,should I leave o stay?


To go or not to go to Odessa?"


It seems to me that he wants to go to the place where the spring is shrieking all the time.


- Oh, meow... Oh, Odessa... Oh, spring!


- Where are you, Anechka" I hear my aunt's voice. "What a stubborn girl, just like her mother...


I lurk behind the stove, sitting in the arms of a poker, and trying not to sniff my nose.


My favorite game of hide-and-seek, but I'm not playing now...


I will not go, and that's it, let everyone talk me: my mother, my sisters, my cat Waska...


Tickets are already bought for the Moscow-Odessa train.


My suitcases are packed, they're light, even I can lift them.


My mother's sister brought all sorts of stuff in her overstuffed suitcases from Odessa, so we'll travel lightly to Odessa.


My aunt's husband takes me in his arms and smacks me on the cheek.


I don't want to, I don't want to...


I want my daddy to kiss me and crawl around the house with me on his hands and knees...


But he won't do it anymore, he's dead.


There's a commotion in the house, everybody's looking for my valenki.


Yes, yes, I hid them in the ashpit, let them look for them now!


My aunt doesn't believe me when I say I haven't seen my valenki.


- Liar, little liar! - whispering, so my mother did not hear, my aunt reproaches me.


- It's all right," says Auntie's husband at last, "I'll carry Anechku in my arms, and in Odessa we'll buy her some boots...



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Ботиночки были тёмно-коричневые.


Маленькие дырочки с трудом впускали в себя плоский коричневый шнурок.


Прохаживаясь по комнате, в которой жили тётя с мужем, я чувствовала, как будто мои пятилетние ножки всунули в консервные банки – такими неудобными были мои первые ботиночки.


- Не вздумай спрятать или выбросить ботиночки,- предупредила меня тётя.


Я вижу недовольство на её сомкнутых губах и на её серьезном лице...


Мне страшно!


Мамина сестра слышит то, о чём я думаю?!


- Хочу валенки, - хнычу я,- хочу!


- Итак, девочка моя, в Одессе в валенках весной не ходят, скоро ты будешь носить сандалики, а на зиму, если будешь себя хорошо вести, я куплю тебе валенки с галошами,- разъясняет мне тётя.


Я выхожу в коридор.


Коридор, длиннющий-предлинющий, ведет в кухню, где стоят три стола.


- Вот это наш стол и примус, не трогай ничего на столе у соседей, а то накажу,- предупредила тётя.


Конечно же, я трогаю соседский примус и даже тяну на себя...


"Накажу, на печку посажу",- так пугали меня дома сестрички и братик.


Но в одесской коммуналке нет печки, куда меня загоняли старшенькие.


Ho есть груба.


Печка – "груба" – приклеена к стене до потолка...


Я не слишком расстроилась, когда тётя поставила меня стоять лицом к грубе, пока я не прекращу реветь и сопротивляться надеть ботиночки – консервные баночки.


Я касаюсь щекой плиточек из белого кафеля, глажу их и лижу языком...


Мне снится, что груба сложена из кубиков рафинированного сахара, который был такой вкуснятиной в мамином доме...


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Переведенный текст
The boots were dark brown.


The little holes had trouble letting the flat brown shoelaces in.


Walking around the room where my aunt and her husband lived, I felt as if my five-year-old feet had been stuffed into tins-so uncomfortable were my first pair of boots.


- Don't think about hiding or throwing them away," my aunt warned me.


I can see the dissatisfaction on her closed lips and on her serious face...


I am afraid!


My mother's sister hears what I think!


- I want felt boots, - I whimper, - I want them!


- So, my girl, in Odessa in the spring you don't wear valenki, soon you'll wear sandals, and in winter, if you behave well, I'll buy you a felt boots with galoshes, - my aunt explains to me.


I go out into the corridor.


The corridor is long and long, and leads to the kitchen, where there are three tables.


- This is our table and primus. Don't touch anything on the neighbors' table, or I'll punish you", warned my aunt.


Of course I touch the neighbor's primus, and even pull it on myself...


"I'll punish you, I'll put you on the stove", that's what my sisters and brother used to scare me at home.


But there's no oven in the Odessa communal apartment, where the older siblings put me.


But there's a ruddy stove.


The stove - "rude" - is glued to the wall to the ceiling...


I wasn't too upset when my aunt made me stand facing the rough until I stopped crying and resisting putting on my shoes - tin cans.


I touch the white tile tiles with my cheek, stroking them and licking them with my tongue...


I dream that the rough is made of cubes of refined sugar, which was so delicious at my mother's house...



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Исходный текст
Мне уже пять лет, и я много чего понимаю.




I'm five years old now, and I understand a lot of things.


I just can't understand how there can be a sea in a park?


And why is the blue-green sea called the Black Sea?


I don't understand why the uncles at the corner of Kanatnaya and Grecianka


crawling on their hands and knees?


I don't understand why my aunt won't let me in the park alone.


Why does she scare me with gypsies, who take all the naughty girls and teach them to beg?


When my aunt argues with my husband and calls him a drunkard, I want to run away to the enchanted park and let the Gypsies take me away and teach me to beg.


My aunt said that I shouldn't ask her for anything.


But I often forget that, and I beg her for pennies.


If you cross the road and turn left and then right, and then cross the road again, you can get to the park, called "Shevchenko Park".


In the yard, no one believes me that this park is bewitched.


Yard kids were born here, in this courtyard of Odessa, and I came here with my aunt after the death of my father.


By the gates of the park sit grannies with sacks.


In the bags there are white and black seeds, and small and large cups.


If you give a granny a kopeck, she pours the seeds into a bag made from an old newspaper.


I have never yet been bought seeds from a large cup, and I quickly run out of the small one.


When the gypsies steal me, I'll learn how to beg and buy myself some sunflower seeds from the big cup!



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