Родилась и живу в Минске. Увлекаюсь переводом. Участница и победительница многочисленных конкурсов перевода. Считаю себя творческой натурой, люблю принимать участие в различных конкурсах.
An excerpt from «LIFE»
If you put an orange on the table and look at it from below,
it looks exactly as the sun:
large, orange and round.
And you may not touch it. As well as the sun.
My mother says so, because I’m allergic: sometimes it’s hard for me to breathe and it’s scary sometimes.
The doctor says that no one dies from it. He has hairy and cold hands.
I asked the doctor: «Can you live without the sun?»
He said: «It is possible, but what would this life be like?»
So I say: what is my life like?
Without an orange …
Hello, our dear great-great-grandparents!
He was a burden for everyone. Everyone was always finding fault with him: if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Just his presence obviously made troubles even more numerous. In fact he was out of place, because he did not want to be in the same row with everyone.
Lately he has been annoying and attracted attention to himself more often than usually.
Finally it was decided to bring an end to it and for all.
It was extracted.
In the tray, the inconvenient tooth clanged loudly, and emptiness was I,ediately felt. There will be no others like this.
Telegraph poles are well-edited pines. But there is much more life in some gnarled pines than in any smoothly polished standard pole. As if everything that life gives and touches us disappeared along with twigs and knots.
In ancient Egypt, the scarab was the symbol of wealth and prosperity. Till now tourists take tons of souvenirs with the image of this beetle with them from the country of pyramids.
In ordinary life, the scarab rolls balls of manure in the desert. The logic of the representatives of the ancient civilization is quite understandable. If there is manure, then there are domestic animals, then there is prosperity. Probably, afterwards this neighborhood was framed by the myth about the similarity of the movement of manure balls with the course of the Sun over the sky and people started to honor the dung beetle. It turns out that wealth has always been somewhere near manure.
Hatred has settled in a box with pencils.
Eleven well sharpened pencils turned against one small red pencil. Once it was also the same as they are, but slowly began to dedicate himself fully to a young artist. The girl was very fond of drawing. Her pictures were very bright, and the sun was always present in them. She colored it with a thick layer of red pencil lead. The sun was blazing red, which made any her work marvelous. The trouble is that the red pencil became smaller and smaller in size with each picture.
Neighbors in the box did not accepted it, closed the ranks, and the girl had to push the pencil with difficulty to its rightful place. And when she tried to find her favorite pencil, she was raking for it in the box for a long time trying to find her little friend.
A day had come when it was completely impossible to draw with the stub of the pencil.
And then the girl stopped drawing.
Master, put me a tattoo with numbers on my forearm. To perpetuity.
A gray-haired Zen Buddhist is sitting on the hill stubbornly gazing at a single point. Immersed into a deep meditation, he once again tries to hear a clap with one hand. And he again fails.
For many years he has been trying to solve such a difficult task.
The monk hasn’t understood that it’s strange to want to hear a clap with one hand when you have two hands.
He is a hard worker. He literally moves heaven and earth. He passes a lot through himself. But he can never get back on his feet. His work is aimless, because he does not see where he is moving. He is recklessly bold – he is not afraid that he will be cut in half or even into small pieces. These threats are not for him. They are ready to put him on the hook and feed to fish. And that’s how some earthworms end their lives. Who knows, maybe everything would be different in their lives if they learned to set big aims for themselves.
An evil pin was lying in the bag along with the same broken things. Whoever tried to take it in his hands, it always pricked them in the finger. And it was thrown back into the bag. Once its fastening was broken, and it could not be worn as before. Then it was thrown into a sack with junk till better days. Sometimes someone was sorting things out in the bag, but they were sure to get a prick in his finger from the embittered pin.
Once gentle hands pulled the pin out of the bag carefully and changed its fastening. The pin turned out to be gorgeous. It was immediately attached to the lapel of the jacket. He has never pricked anybody after that.
He liked everything very much. He was just bursting from pride. Suddenly he wanted to become even bigger and more significant. Much more than he could afford. At some point, he could not stand it and burst. The pieces of the balloon were scattered all over the floor. He could not even imagine that pride could tear him to pieces.
She burst into the laboratory, waving referrals for tests like a flag.
“Show your insurance policy”, the lab assistant said defiantly.
“I did not take the insurance policy, I was in a hurry. But I have it. I wouldn’t be able to give myself referrals. Let me bring them to you tomorrow,» the breathless visitor suggested.
“Blood sampling time ends in ten minutes. If there is no policy, then I will not serve you”.
“What does it mean ‘to serve’? You’re not in the market, but in a medical institution. Sample the blood, and I’ll bring it to you in the evening, if you really need to see my policy on this day. Or let’s look at the clinical record, there must be a copy”.
“I do not know anything. If there is no policy, then there are no tests”.
“I was running at full speed. I need to see the results of the tests tomorrow at the doctor’s”.
“It’s your problem, I do not know anything. Blood sampling time ends soon. If there is no policy, then I can not help you. I have a small salary, but there are many people such as you”.
“Where’s the head doctor’s office? If I find it, then you will have to stay and work longer than these ten minutes”.
“OK, office 49. And not ten minutes, but less time is left”.
The visitor rushed along the corridor, watching the numbers of the offices. Office 39, office 41. The floor is over. It became clear that office 49 is located a floor above.
That’s the desired door. Office 49. «Psychiatrist», the visitor read and glanced at her watch. It had just gone past ten. Tears rained down from impotent offense, washing callousness and insensibility of others.