Untold Will / Невысказанное завещание (на английском языке). Амирхан Еники

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      The ‘poetic’ disease touched our Badretdin as well. He too was writing poems, but never read what he wrote to anyone. It was difficult to persuade him to read. But if he was reading it, his poems were not written as were poems of other shakirds, in a complaining tone, but were short poems that described the natural phenomena or expressed his attempt to share life philosophy.

      So strange, mysterious and nice a young gentleman was our group mate Badretdin!

      Well, to cut a long story short, we were coming back to our villages, three of us in a comfortable carriage. The road was smooth with no dust. The gray gelding was producing «gort-gort» sounds because of the steep descent, and was leisurely jogging its way… Not long ago, in the middle of May, the first warm rains came. Now everything was growing quickly, rising up: rye spires and wheat were thick, dark-green, like moustaches of young men, and started to stretch; unplowed grass was breaking through last year dry grass, flowers were in bloom here and there… Along the way bindweeds first pink «bells» were seen… No need to stress that it was the purest, the simplest, the nicest time!

      For us, who were getting withered along all winter, this boundless, vast, light, warm world was adorable and desired, we couldn`t get enough of it, were breathing it, smelling it, looking at it. We stopped the carriage for a while and walked in the grass to feel the warmth of the ground with our feet, ran and got caught up in the grass, gathered flowers. Badretdin found wild green onion, we chewed it. I found and picked up one plant that is called «temlekay»[9] in our village. It is long with four-sided stem. We peeled and ate it. Badretdin told us that this plant is called «stableman lash» by Bashkirs, as when the buds on its end turn into blue flowers, it resembles a lash with a brush.

      And our Gylemdar, was looking for gophers, stopped, whistled, covering his face with two hands; but a cunning animal probably understood that it was a whistle by a shakirds, with the result that it didn`t come out of his burrow, and didn`t sit on his hind paws with his ears up.

      … Singing larks accompanied us along the way as if from that infinite radiant clear sky one bewitching melody was unceasingly trembling and dinging. Do you know what is the magic of lark`s singing?.. First of all, you might have noticed that when a lark sings, a serene meditative silence spreads over the ground. It is as if the whole of nature, every living being, like educated people say, are listening only to him in awe, keep silent, and indulge in glad, enjoyable bliss… The second magic is that when a lark is singing, the world somehow expands, becomes wider and brighter. Like from the high sky, where a tiny bird is singing, the earth seems boundless, enormous, amazingly calm, luminous…

      I don`t know if other birds are singing along with lark – I didn`t pay attention, but one bird`s singing reaches our ears, making us shudder, as if all the larks of the world started to sing together. A cuckoo bird! A strange bird, never showing up to people, that was created by nature to make people remember something very important… Passing by a bluish forest we heard its warning song that made us sink into reveries.

      In such elated mood, we were joyfully on our way home and finally approached the Ishle village that was in the valley opposite red-sloped mountains. When we set off, Badretdin invited us to have some tea in Ishle before we continued our journey. As it is very natural for shakirds to have fun together, we agreed to visit our groupmate.

      When we reached the village, Badretdin took the reins and turned the horse from the main road to the right, thereby riding along the road covered with green grass headed to the farthest street. Before long, he stopped the horse in front of the house that was standing in the distance, separate from other houses.

      We had known that we were coming to the house of poor people, but we hadn’t expected such a miserable household. Actually, it was difficult to call it a household. In a bare meadow a small, old, shabby house was fallen half down in the ground. Its straw roof was rotted, blackened, and started to turn into manure. Owing to this weight some of the logs of the house were sticking out, the door and windows were lopsided, and the windows had become green-bluish with time… There was no gate, no fence, and only two poles separating the household from the street and the field… The yard was covered with field grass in which buzzing grasshoppers were jumping. It was a sign that there were no cattle in the household.

      We tried not to show our bewilderment to Badretdin. We entered the open yard that showed no wheel tracks and stopped the horse near to an old barn that was covered with twigs. One runty, white-faced, red-bearded, thin man came out of the house. He was dressed in a hemp shirt, pants of woven cloth with large patches on his knees, and a miserable hat on his head. Resting in worn-out boots, his legs were wrapped in cloth. He came close to the carriage and greeted only Badretdin, saying: «My son!», – He lent two hands to us without saying anything, then immediately went to the horse to unbridle it…

      Badretdin picked up his chest and hurried inside. A woman appeared at the door, but very quickly went back in. It must have been Badretdin`s mother, I was embarrassed by her hesitation and hiding back in the house.

      When the horse was unharnessed, Badretdin came out of the house with a bucket of water, a ladle and a towel. Over the grass we poured water on each other`s hands to refresh ourselves. A thought came to my mind: «They do not even have a kumgan.»[10]. – We didn`t have any power to pretend that we don`t see anything and do not know anything; nor did we have words to enter into idle talk. But Badretdin himself was very calm; at least we didn`t notice any embarrassment or discomfort.

      When we washed ourselves, we greeted the owners, and entered the house. Badretdin`s father met us with the words: «Come in, shakirds!»

      The dim house inside turned to be as old and shabby as its exterior. But no matter how old and shabby it was, the timber of the house was absolutely yellow-brown, like wax, – trampled and pitted floor was very clean… A solid bunk sake[11], covered with felt occupied all the main part of the house, along with two chairs, one bench, one more chump near the furnace – that was all the furniture. The front of the furnace was separated from the room by an old curtain; somebody was splintering the chips behind it.

      When we entered the house, the first person we saw was an old man, sitting on the sake and leaning against the wall. Like Hazyr Ilyas[12] he had a snow-white beard and was dressed in a snow-white robe and pants. The tubetey[13] on his head, however, looked like a pancake and was bluish black.

      We stretched two hands to greet the old man. The old man didn`t move. Badretdin said quickly: «– Grandpa, shakirdler want to greet you.»

      – «Ah, do they, Baraka Allah![14] – the old man said. He livened a little, and stretched his weathered big, firm hand. His eyes were open, but he was blind.

      We sat and read prayers, and, as shakirds do, put our hands on our knees and sat still for a moment. It was difficult for us to start the conversation, and for some reason our tongues couldn`t start speaking easily. Strangely, the owners didn’t start were silent as well. Apparently, not many words were said in that house – somehow we understood it very quickly. The old man returned to his inner world, was sitting still and didn’t` move. Badretdin was pacing around the house, as if he intended to say something, but couldn`t find words…

      His father, first was sitting near the furnace was astonished by us, then rose and started to prepare the tea near the bunks. He found and spread a homespun tablecloth, grabbed three cups, either glued, or with a broken handle from the furnace ledge, a short knife, some bread wrapped in a cloth, and milk in the wooden ladle. The he sat СКАЧАТЬ