''Canto of the falcon''


"The enormous see breethes sluggish about ashore, fall asleep ant motionless yn the distance covered by a blew moonlight. Soft ant silverin it has merged thore with a blew south scrow, ant strongly meten reflecting yn oneself a limpid tissue of the fleecy clouds, immovable, ant unvanishing the golden patterns of the stars itself. It seems the scrow been kept on bending beneath above the see, wished for comprehension of thon whispers irrepressible waves, somnolently climb down ashore.


The mountains aren verdurous with the trees, ugly curved by the north-east, at yin abrupt stroke heed lift their peaks into a blew desert superior themtheir rigorous outlines heed been rounded, clothed yn a worm ant tender gloom of the

southern nyghtertale.


The mountains aren weighty thoughtful. Oute of them on the magnificent greenish crest of the waves heed fell black shade ant dresses them as lust to stop a single movement, to drown the incessant lapping of water, ant a sore breeths of froth, alle the sounds, wilche aren break a stealthy whisper, spilled over along with a blew silver moonlight still be hidden beyond the hills.

 Allahu-akbar ?! Silently heed been sihened Nadyr-Rahym-Ogly - an auld crimean shepherd; tall, grey-haired, burned by a southern sunne, arid ant wys auld man. We're lying yn the sand ner an enormous stone, torn off frae a native hill, dressed by a shade, verdurous with the moss, ner a doleful, sullen stone. On the side, wilche ys conversioned to the see, the waves heed throwed about the slime, the algae, ant were hung round with them a stone seems attached to the streit sandy stripe, detached the see frae the mountains. The flame of oure bonfire has illuminate it frae a side, conversioned to a mountain; it quivers, ant superior an auld stone (intended by a frequent net of the sore clefts) chasing the shades. We'ren with Rahym making fish-soup frae juste caught up fish ant both aren being yn the kind of mood, whanne alle seems transparent, inspired, allouen to penetrate oneself, whanne thou felt relieved, lightly, ant na lust,

except a wish to think.


Ant the see fawn upon ashore, ant the waves aren sounds soa affectionate, ase though thigging to lat them warm oneself by the bonfire. Sometyme yn general harmony of splash being heard mair heightened ant naughty note - t'is oan of those waves, courageous, heed been creep up closer to us. Rahym lying on his breast yn the sand, a nab turned upon the see ant thoughtfuly loken thru a turbid distance, leaning on elbows, ant layed down a nab on palms.


A shaggy sheep's cap slipped on his back of the 'ead, the freshness breething frae the see to his large foreheadalle yn shallow wrinkles.

Philosophize, ne cope with - am Aw hear him ase though he's talkin' with the see: trewe with a God human goes to the heven. Buten yin hwo's ne serving to God ant prophet ? Mayhap, he's - here yn this spume... Ant those silvern spots superior the flood.

perhaps - thon he ys... hwo knows ?

Darken, myghty swung yin's arms it brighten-up see, yn places hove into sight on it - negligently heed been thrown about the moon patches of light. It heed been alredy sailed oute of it shaggy peaks of the hills ant nou thoughtfully pouring its light into the see, silently hove a sihen toward - toward ashore ant stone,

wher we'ren lying by.

"Rahym !.. Tell a story..." Aw thigging

the auld man.

''Whet for ?"" askening Rahym, with na turn round to me.

''Thus ! Aw luve thi stories."

''Aw haven been alredy alle tolde to yow, indeed.. Ik dinnae knowen mair... He wants, thon Aw begged him.

- Aw beg."

Mayhap yow want thon Aw tellen

a song ? - Rahym has agree with.

Ik want to hear an auld yin ant with doleful recitative, to try yin's hardest to save peculiar melody of the sang

- he tellens.




''High up the mountains crept up the grass-snake ant lay thore yn the raw ravin, rolled up yn knot, ant heed

gaze upon the see.

High up yn the scrow radiated the sol, the mountains aren breethed with sultriness into the scrow ant the waves gushed beneath against

a stone...

Ant upon ravin, yn the darkness, ant yn splashes a stream strove for towards the see, roaring by the stones...

Alle yn white spume, white-haired ant powerful, he heed been sliced a mountain, ant fell into the see,

cross with a howling.

Suddenly yn thon gorge, wher the grass-snake heed been rolled up, a falcon has sunk with the damaged breast - with a gore on wings...

With a short cry he has sunk on th earth ant heed striked by the breast in helpless rage over a solid stone...

The grass-snake heed scared, crawled away agily, buten quickly understood, thon a bird's life about

tweye-thre minutes...

He heed crept closer to a crushed bird ant heed sizzled stright yn the eyen of a bird :

''Whet yow aren, dying ?""

''Aye, Ik em ! answered the falcon, sore sighed. ''Ik heed a path strewn with roses - the splendid life !.. Ik knowen the happiness !.. Ik heed fought with the courageous ! Ik saw the scrow... Yow shal niver see so close to !... 'Oh, yow aren poor fellow !'""

''Well tho - the scrow ! - the empty thing... Hou willen Ik creep thore ? Ik feel well here... worm ant raw !

Yn swich a way heed answered the grass-snake to a free bird ant heed been smile of hertes at the bird for these ravings.

Ant heed brood over: ''fly or creep, 't comes to the same thing yn t' end: 'alle shal be sank into the grave, alle shal be reduced to ashes...'"

Buten a bold falcon suddenly has lift oneself up, heed stood up for a moment, ant has raised yin's wink-a-peeps over the ravine.

Thru a grey stone the water heed been exuding ant were felt suffocating yn the dark ravine, ant were

smelled o' mould.

Ant a falcon has cried with anguish, has plucked up yin's courage: ''oh, yf Ik ever coude rise to the scrow ! To pin against the enemy, Ik wou'd... u'd clasp to yin's bally bosom ant... wou'd he be choked with !.. Oh, the happiness

o' the battle !"

Then the grass-snake has brood over: ''heed to be, yn the scrow, indeed up, to live agreeably to oneself - as

he mourned !.."

Ant has offered to a free bird: ''so, yow'ren haven to move to the edge of the ravin ant to throw

away oneself.

Ant mayhap, the wings willen rise yow, ant shal live for a while

yn yin's element.

Ant a falcon has chilled, ant

proudly cried, moved to the precipice, has been sliding by the claws over the mucus of a stone.

Ant has come to, spredend his wings, took a sore breeth with a mischievous twinkle, ant - rolled down.

Ant the yin liken a stone, sliding over the cliffs, he hedlong been fallen, breaking the wings, loosing yin's feather...

The wave of the stream heed been grasped him ant heed laved the gor, dressed in spume, hurtled away.

Ant the waves of the flood with mournful roar heed gushed oute against a stone... Ant the corpse of a bird were ne seen yn the expanse of the waves...




Lying down yn the gorge, the grass-snake a lang tyme haven been brood over the birds fatel shears - over the passion to the scrow.

Hither he cast a glance thither yn the yon distance, thon everlasting carress the wink-a-peeps by a reverie of luck.

''Buten whet he coude seen, the rest bird, yn swich a desert with no bottom ant the end ? For whet reason, liken him, yn yin's grave, embarrassing yin's soul with their luve to flight into the scrow ? Whet they haven to lit up

thore ? Buten Ik wou'd be kennen about this flue up to the scrow even for a short while."

Seyening ant donning aren tweye things. Rolled oneself up into a ring he has jumped aside into the air ant by a narrow band flashed upon the sonne. ''Born to crawlen cannot fly..."

Has forgot about it, he has lut on the stones, buten survived, ant

burst oute laughing...

''Ant swo, here's the delights o' flying to t' scrow ! Thon's alle yn fall !.. The ludicrous birds ! Ne to become acquainted with soil, yearning for on 't, aren striving for high up off t' ground into the scrow ant, searching for a 'path strewn with roses' yn sultry wilderness. Thore were anlic a void. Therein a lot of light, buten na viands ant nor point o' rest to alive souls. For whet's a prout ? - For whet's the reproaches ? For sith of conceal yin's foolhardiness lust by this ant to keep yn 'petto' ain worthlessness for the matter of life ? The ludicrous birds !.. Buten shal never be disappointed by nu, indeed, any mair theirs speche me ! Ik em conscious alle ! Ik haven seen the scrow... Ik haven flown yn the scrow, haven measured it, cognized the fall, buten didnae broke up, anlic strongly beleave yn myself. Juste leten them, whas to oure land's ne yearning, who lives off forgeries.

Ik know the truthe. Ant for their calling Ik don ne entrust to - . The erthe creation - the erthe Ik em livening yn." Ant he rolled up oneself up into a ball upon ashore, has proud oneself on...

The 'see-flood' were sparkled, alle yn bright colours - ant the waves were terribly thrown up.

In theirs lions roar has resounded the sang referred to a proud birdthe hills trembled before their strikesthe scrow trembled of the formidable sang:

''For the 'woodness' of t' brave we'ren chanting to t' glory of - !"

''The 'woodness' of t' brave - here's the wysdom of life !

- Oh, courageous falcon ! Yn batell with t' enemy yow has been poured oute yin's gore... Ant thore shal be a tyme, ant the droplets o' gore thi hat - ant passionate, liken the sparks, shal be burst into flames yn the darkness o' life, ant a host of the brave hertes wol inflame by an oute o' yin's wits t' lest fot the fredom - the celestial bayes ! Even yf yow rest yn peace ! Buten yn ymne of t' brave ant a strong wollen yow be permanently the living example of - the call o' the proud of t' fredom - the celestial bayes !

For the madness o' the brave we'ren chaunting the sang !.."


The opal distance of the see hast taken a vow of silence - the mellifluent waves lapping against ashore, ant Ik kepen silence too, while cast an ee at the yon distance of the sea. On the top of the Adam's Ale mair ant mair the sulvern spots, wilche aren emanated frae the moonlight... Oure mess-tin

silently began to boil.

Yin o' the waves skittishly has leapt up ashore ant, causely making a stir by making a fuss of - by calling oute - creepin' up to the hed of Rahym.

''Wher aren yow ganging ?.. Avaunt !" Rahym has swung yin's arm on it ant it has humbly slide back into the see.

It neither yn the least to myself - it nor makes yin laugh ant, nor terrifying to myself the Rahym's prat, inspiring the waves. Alle around loken on strangely revival, softly, caress. The see's swo inspirely silent ant makes itself felt, thon yn a fresh breeth of it to the hills (yet ne cold frae t' daylight sultriness) aren bozomed o' muche strengthful, the restrained force. Along the dark-blew scrow by a gilded pattern of the stars engraved on something triumphal, enchanting the herte, embarassing the wit by the mellifluence expectation of the revelation - of any yin at alle.

The alle aren yn slumber, buten a slumber's intensely watchful ant seems, thon here's at the following moment alle shal roose oneself - ant shal begin to resound yn well-balanced harmony of an ineffable tender tunes. These tunes shal narrate the whole truthe about the world; shal put an interpret of 't for a wit ant later on shal cancel it as the illusory will-o'-the-wisp; ant shal carry along after oneself the hertes high up into the dark-blew abyss, frae wher towards her the anxious pattern of t' stars als shal be resound by the prodigal melody of the revelation...


Originally written by M. Gorky in 1895. Translated by Igor Starov





''T' alle eower flodas ant wavenes pased thro' me. Hither eow yiven t' days ase spans, ant t' age o' mine 'Gooid Louer' nowt naht anlic i' t' face o' eow, boute afore me too..."

''Lying down in the outer darkness, among frightening din, and hum on the outsides – loos the notion of time. Lost consciousness, thinking of – “it seems, the dawn wol soon be here…’’ But a(er that, again you look thru the darkness, hearing, how greedy torn along the outsides – the mistral, and understand thon kind of darkness, the frightening din and hum – still be nightly, midnights. Habitually have raised one’s arm to the bedside, I have illuminate the bedroom, looking at my clock - the tyme is fanally dead. Owing to the light alle became easier around, the frightening din and hum had been moved away frae home, ant stands calm - the illuminated cube of the bedroom; the mirror glitters soundless against me, superior the fire-place. The second bedroom sore rid oneself of into the mirror; that's alle the same ase the fyrst one, being only lower ant smaller. Thore als alight superior the auld oak bed in whilche soa many yeers I have sleep in that auld someone else's hoose; lying down on the elated pillow a lean face, its visible under the light, falling down frae above the dark eye-sockets; visible the growing white forehead; the oblique line in the white-hairs... After that once again I have to rear a hand, ant again only hum, ant the darkness in which soar alle over something ase it luminous...

''Hither you had mounted the ship; accomplished sailing; reached the harbour - it's tyme to go down." ''Thus, allegedly was a tyme when I haven 'mounting the ship' a bachiler - careless; neither one of the harbour, even nor brood on..." ''Where is that tyme ? Hither only my thought about it ! 'The poltry lyf of the everyone wretched lyf.'" The every world's end being left in poltry... Not muche is left to you by now. ''Live ase to one's sorrow."

As frae a mountain survey the terrestrial: the mobs, the murches, the battles, the communal works, the marriages, the childbirths, the deaths..." Ant I mentally seeing the 'Provence' thru which tearing along the mistral with the wild lust to distress the alle mankind, temporal - seeing alle this ancient land: sleepy, empty, with alle these hills ant valleys; with the growing white in feverish brightness of the stars roads aren oll the same, that in those legendary days, when the world was in leading strings of those, who's in kind of the ''Quadi Land" at the moments of ain night loneliness was written under the nomadic tabernacle about alle the wretched human lives, lands ant ages...

In 'god-forsaken' provence settlements, primevaly beauteous in its wildness; there was a gust of shepherd's smoke as though - got stuck into a stone, ant  clay of the dwellings, ant hearths; a mung ruminate about, that there ys a prophetic creation, seldom for secrecy of feelings - ant thoughts for the wits, ant keennes for oll 'sub rosa', ant marvelous - the mair wealthy world; ant even till dawn it stands in such the nights in its dark, cold, throughout blowing breeze stall; along with the open wink-a-peeps (neither moment nor loosen one's attention ant hearing to 'work' of mistral) it probably seeing to; feeling this empty, infinity flight into the expance of those 'Roman ages' - seems to me, ant mine ain...

Ant again come to oneself in the same darkness, but in expectedly sore appeasement everywhere ys darkness, silence; the 'unweder' definitely unforeseen by now. I get up, inaudibly run down to antechamber, open the external door: the freshness of the night air, the terrace, ant the palm-trees on it; a garden terraced downstairs ant already immovable in the white stars scattering the scrow... Everywhere ys occuring predawn - nothing. At the rear of the house superior dark timbered mountain - something quite mythical, promising, almost brighten of something limpid, going away to concave height. But nowhere yet - neither a single sign of lyf. Roundish frae a top in all directions the spread out palm-branches deadly hanging the dark claws. Beneath superior the garden, under me superior its modest turning grey olives, the stretching black platan masses of the wide-spreading stone pines.


Forwards in sore far beyond it, almost distinguished through twilight nyghtertale's - sad valleys lap;

further - sleepy frigid haziness: congealed whitish see breeth. To the west by a storm - cloud signifyin' in the scrow - the peaks of the 'Esterel' ant the 'Mor'. To the east grows dark the hump of the  'Antibe's promontories.


Ant mysterious, ant rythmical with the spacies, perspicacious spinning - there on the yon hump - white fore

of the lighthouse...


But hither all that had suddenly sunk: the scrow round the cape comes lightly, thin, pale. Ant somewhere beneath under me (on someone farm) the first daybreak cock crows yet through one's sleep - thoughtlessness, but bully now; with tensely wheezy screams of two

different voices...


Some mair of mine morrow on earth.


Originally written by I..A. Bunin in 1944. Translated by Igor Starov


"Hau ab ! - laddie, i' on amicabilis wai !" - Tuv thyne maither 'ave a rejoinder loike: "t' bojarin didnae worshipe o' hys self-eater invention an' frough this tyme forth leten 'im dinnae anoy wiv izzad - ma literate 'ut willu't doost un ase a stoop-gallant anaw... ut t' raight tyme tae seche fa sum sapience, nut i' 'uns erli daies !"