with a crab, a with anchors—what a picture. And he presents himself—sailor without hands ; and ? I also introduce myself. . That’s all true, nodded the , but for me you better touch upon love, adjust the music a little bit. Sure, even a hundred times. And I offer to the attention of the listener the cherished and sorrowful song. . My , started clearin his throat, the dry cough is shakin the seaman. And just then comes a , and a Ukrainian dawdler is peddlin mill cakes—periphery, outskirts. I jerked the door open and screamed: . . I’m lettin both jaws go for three rubles, . I did let them go and became a lisper again. It’s nothin, we’ll manage, for the grateful chum we’d even give an eye for analysis. The moved forward and we moved to its restaurant: . We captured by two reserved seats and ordered everythin delightful—even the fish sticks. And he reports: have upset my livers with them , I’m a son of a witch, when I was a novice sailor, I was based on the trainin , on a cracked , and I did not even have a chance to blink, when on the park’s bald spots with all kinds of carousels began to loom, he says, a foolhardy —a gal not too appealin but always willin. . And when we were raisin the anchors, I got away for an hour from all hands on deck—and to the girl. For farewell she gives me a piece of paper: She wrote down all the stanzas and put the address on the back—the lane, the buildin, and the room. As if to say: Don’t forget, send snapshots. But durin a campaign there ain’t much to write about, and it’s forbidden too, and later we all got placed into school’s custody, and there we’re even less into letters, a complete rat race: either the solitary confinement, or scrubbin, or crammin the , and with cadets there are scrapes ’cuz of hussies—it’s no joke. . We tasted misfortune with her, lived together in her pad quite a while, but —, and even then she hinted that not I am his happy father, from a , supposedly, , ’cuz . Where and how, I tried to learn, at what hour? Well, she esplains, on a pile of discarded wood chips, next to the storeroom, where they used to eat suppers. Suppers or not suppers, who’s gonna check, but I was troubled a lot. was cuttin me , but altogether, I underline, when she advanced to a dispecher there and started actin as tactlessly as can be. . Well, and this one here, how on earth?—I was askin, feelin completely cheated but not ready for a clash. , insolent to the max—I found it on the rails too. Your is like the railroad, came to my mind, but you yourself—you’re a slutty broad, you ain’t mine, your most strongest friendship ain’t with me, not in this here hovel, not , but on those same rails; they even managed to make you on the . I started wondrin.

, I’ll say frankly, is catchin fire stronger than any dawn on the , although , most likely, can hardly understand what we, the inhabitants, call . That’s why I am rowin, a , to the other shore. Briskly-briskly I row, sprightly-sprightly, and , but the outdid my brisk pace with its width, and the day are already at the heels of the swarms of mornin . I reach it before lunch, and my like a fish jumps out on the sand at full speed. I celebrated my achievement with Your second smoke and I’m hobblin along on my , observin the . But skimmin thru these here sketches of mine, have the right to exclaim in protest. , I’m not a knucklehead, even if I’m , but let’s agree once and forever: Crutches are crutches, but mushrooms—nuts. , and . Thank goodness, visited me and, feelin sympathy, enlightened. , he declares cleverly, do you insist that the time everywhere in unison? I said: I do not insist. I have nothin to hide, ; when I insist, then I do insist, but if I don’t—then right away: I don’t insist and that’s it, why drag it on. And I told him squarely: You may be offended, complain, you have the right, but I am givin you my word: Yes, I do not insist. . I took all this under consideration and started . The main —how to get to the moorin posts. . And for that reason, in adventures of the given kind, I, a good chap, am aided only by the familiar to . I have rowed across and hobble aimlessly, , and . ’ve gone up on the porch to get some air and ; shield your eyes: Our scamp has a finger in every pie—I see the grinder . . Well, so she misplaced her attention to the , returns tanked up, and I—I’m a scandal-maker. And one day tells me straight on: Say, . has nothin to divide, all his toys from the belongins kind, of type—are one or two and he’s ready to go. I loaded the into my indestructible snatch-it-all, into a sack, bowed to the , kissed , probably not my own, But I was makin a livin by paintin and sellin various inflatable balloons from a pharmacy and . There’s no doubt that I slept there too, and slightly later, to avoid tiffs with the powers that be, obtained a patent. How the heck—it’s on the bottom of the list now—but I gathered as many orders as cat’s tears, so I was forced to beg on local trains and make repairs to this or that old thing; . Or somethin else—one may wander now and then at dawn to the dump—one may look, but I’m just a spook, a fidgety bum. Widely and freely, I dare to mention, spread these malodorous fields; occasionally, you’ll go far-far —and you’ll get lost. When you’re workin hard, everythin drags by imperceptibly; it’s already noon, and if not the frosty sparks, then . Look around: In the west, in the valley, the ragpicker scrapes the garbage with her rake; in the north, scours for some grub; in the east, a sergeant-reservist rummages in the stream—raves about assemblin a motorcycle out of spare parts; and in the south, some riffraff scavenges for cigarette butts. Peace, calm, nobody’s doin nothin to nobody, ’cuz here , nothin more; and the are everywhere, like durin —garbage smolders softly, a real panorama wherever you’d turn your head. And such closeness to it pinches inside, that to return home—to hell with it! Our inhabitant is attracted to the expanses of his land and . : colognes, perfumes, know what. In this sense, invaluable help by her advices and greetins used to gimme that ragpicker, auntie with meat on her bones, well-bred and with experience, and . It’s an adventure from the past, and I will not hide what was: . Ladies’ flesh is a great temptation; that certain thing—we yearn for it but can’t be held accountable. The same here: Everythin started almost like when you just fool around. She kept objectin, avoided me, frowned, but if you dig more deeply—there’s no difference. In the barracks they used to say that she’s nuts, she’s like that from birth, but personally I wouldn’t claim nothin exceptional. The only thing that her head was really rather absurdly small, but the ragpicker assured—it’ll ripen to the weddin, it will heal; well, if it’ll ripen, it’ll ripen, the caretaker knows better. One day she sends her girlie with some hide for me to —and I got excited in my declinin fate. Only don’t look for faults, , in the beginnin I curbed my curiosity, what things are like with her, that is, at her age, You know, well, so accidently I put the bolt in the lock, in secret, that is, from myself. Later I reckon—devil has his ways—I’ll take a gamble, not everythin is done by calculation, like with grandmas, it would be nice with their grandkids every now and then, spontaneously. And the incorrigible happened, . We agreed to meet; sometimes we please each other under the stairs, other times . After several months, on the side, from a friendly guitarist, to whom I am eternally grateful for teachin me how to read music, I learn that . I turned a blind eye—she’s not made of soap, she won’t foam away, and they’re —they’ll cleave and leave. worried me, her contacts led me off the , and feelin lonely without her, I grieved under the , crawlin on the rags that should be burned so they won’t stink. And the ticklin trash like fed on the junk and made its habit to walk . At first they didn’t bother me; on the contrary, I derived some pleasure from them, but closer to the they ate me alive, and my encouragement ended. And in the hole of the there lived a . The entire bottom, like heavens above, he entwined with his web. I kept catchin the insects and throwin them into his nets. How neatly he, unscrupulous, kept takin out the souls of these creatures, yikes! . In my heart I believe, he continued, in my heart I know you won’t lemme down, but the mind is weak, gets tempted: . Precisely then, sends me the news by the . , sir, , I and here got into our heads to stockpile some , and ’cuz you wish us well even without that, and , won’t you loan us, besides that, some money, as I will liken the yeast to everythin , and winter without it I will compare to spring without top , or to the same winter but without ; like a dreadful nightmare, he exploits, , apostles, so please. I procured some paper, , dipped the pen into the inkwell and started gazin with admiration outside, where the , sculpted by me, . On the calendar—the end of the , but wait a bit with grinnin, . Stop sendin the in vain, I answered , you and your won’t get money from , so far , and these only to those that show respect, and even more not to be away: ’Nuf of gettin pickled; but before I, maybe, send you money, before that, you’ll deliver to me by a courier my . Which? Well, those that filched in December, havin chosen for this the confusion of darkness and the hubbub of the . And I passed on to the the to take care of and solve our discord , , by agreein that , but somehow neither this nor that, somethin like the mornin evenin, and that . And the reply: Wipe clean, he offends, and . And then I decided to undertake this here supplication to , and to forget the and his request, havin punished him with a . What’s been said—we will do, but let’s not forget—or else the night will remind us—.

And I started wondrin. , my , they also kept chafin you all over the hollows in the same manner. , , unknown to me trainees, your darin buddies from railroad vocational schools, were audaciously carousin with you. You are quite weak, , as it became clear, between legs, ain’t indifferent to sweets, and not a You’ve lost on the rails but honor. For a faceted tumbler of the poison from you caressed them every which way, you wanton shrew. Why, I would quietly wanna find out, you never fondled like that? And a certain grew over there, inconspicuous, but thick and close by, and durin lengthy I observed indecencies from there; You were a Sodomite, little mother. , not indulgin me in any whim. , I a few on account of someone’s generosity, . And these rascals, , appear and lead my workin girl on the . I decided to wait—let them begin; then, filled with more courage, I will attack from behind the like a perfidious infidel. Quickly, five of them got pickled and . Eh, I think, ready or not, here I come. But then I reckon: If you rush the stuff you will make them laugh, you’ll scare them inadvertently; I better hold my fire. And from nothin to do I keep rereadin a ticket that I also picked up, with a number, truly, to be exact, suitable for travel last year to such an unforgettable land as the . This affected , affected him a great deal. Just imagine, , the That is, not only Saturday but in addition framed by meadows, perhaps even water ones. And streams of are splashin over them. And the weekenders, in ironed clothes, and even with canes, keep strollin, beamin about somethin appropriate. Everythin is calm, no mug-thrashin, only the coachmen swear at water carriers, but even that with yawns. And if they decide to sit for a while in the shadow with company—retire, gentlemen, into the bushes, to special stands, and relax to your health. I pictured for myself this bliss, so unlike our places, and I make a commitment: Whatever happens, regardless of any scrapes or anythin else—to pay a visit . . And when together with the sailor we whistled ourselves all hands on deck, havin abruptly abandoned the buffet car ’cuz our funds ran out, and we moved to the , our was dockin at the proper . We disembarked, looked around, and lingered in that hole a couple of weeks—what boonies and wastes! With no money and desperate, we hanged around there like , and havin conversations with the locals, we were talkin to them, sayin: And you dare to call yourself . We scrounged half a ruble for smokes and followin the dictates of our hearts plodded down to to have some fun and, after arrivin, we inquire: How’s that young life of yours? So-so, they answer, we’re gettin by little by little. And how are you managin with chasers? Well, we almost always manage to fill our stomachs with some innards. So after our arrival, we got to be there, and havin a surplus of ailments, started hangin about. , I’ve in the joint near the station with rail workers-—. with the hatchet: Aha, I threaten them, aha! And they: Grab him, grab him! Brace yourself, they yell, such-and-such jerk! Four of them caught up with me and knocked me down as I fled. And they kept stompin on me, askin: How about that, did we catch you fair and square, you mother-sucker? You did catch me, I cry, , you banged me up, , as fair and square as can be. I try to break free—but they hold fast. They pounded me , got me filthy all over and—I see—they are draggin me, the poor wretch, along the with my mug down. And they’ve pulled me up the embankment, , and, relentless, are clampin me to the rail with barbed wire. Tenacious, with their crafty mitts they completely squash me on the stinky ties, deviously don’t lemme breathe. They had fastened me like a to the speed skate—crosswise and leavin no slack, with linesman’s pliers, and then they split, . I’m also scared—I’m waitin for the . And—as it is customary—: How did I live , decently or not? . I had the reputation of a serious, respectable gentleman, had not committed, as they say, highway robbery. And , then, in spite of everythin, this strange appeared to help. . And I felt with my whole shoulder blades that my is comin close, and the wires are many and thick. It had but a few meters left, it was humiliatin with its lanterns, made noise. I said: , sweetie, so long, step aside. And she: And maybe together? Not with me, I negate, you stick with the . And she: Don’t be cross about that, with them urchins I just so—to have a little fun, to visit for a while—but my joy was bein with you, , she says, and forget my excesses—everythin passed, healed, . You have mixed it up, little mother, you’re confusin somethin, seriously, do I take after a ? . I jerked, jerked, pulled, but partially did not succeed. . . And the infirmary. Havin not found this and that in the makeup of my body, I came to a boil and demanded consolation. . To my question, Where is my ?—he says the miserly: . , I permit myself not to believe —just look what thought up; I made a row. And my treatment went on. There were newspapers, , shavin was provided.

And I recalled how, braggin about his sharpened blades, kept tootin his horn among the masters in the co-op that so far he missed the sad chore of racin races against the whipper-in; I’ll blow by, he claimed, as if he was standin in place. As a result, they started arguin, . Havin received the notification-declaration, the whipper-in approves. They agreed to run as usual, in the dark, and, , I see them like now—. At the takeoff, they clawed nose by nose, and they aspired to run almost exactly from the pant-washin deck to the tributary, to the number two—and back. . The whirlin snow dusted the tracks of their , and the not as much saw the athletes as heard them, but in the near future perhaps ; . A few before the turn, began gainin and the whipper-in fallin behind, but . It does not freeze there under any conditions, and quite a number of sleepyhead coachmen and lunatic speed skaters fell in over there. They failed to account for too; he plopped in and right away got sucked under the ice, so the dog master on his part just started sobbin. They decided to hold the wake for the wolf-slayer ; nobody was in the mood to wait until he floats up somewhere or : In most of their cases our folks embrace . And so they gathered at the gravedigger’s. You know Beyond the , here it’s impossible to put an end, even if relative, to quarrels and disputes: They started arguin about love—say, who she is, that . Everyone stuck to his guns; one, like , that dropped in to visit, the other—on the contrary: discords, bad harvest, events. And I, stayin , don’t butt in, keep neutral. But to —to I admit, obviously not to tell the others, since even without that they consider a chucklehead. Why, what on earth for did she persuade the medical four-eyes to powder my brains—I can’t make sense of it. And now she’s remorseful, searches along the entire river, . They are lyin that no, as they themselves are head over heels in love: We don’t know who you are concerned about, but . And ’s also , even though he’s a . Oh my precious, he pleaded, our reach ain’t narrow—it’s wide, and where this youngster is nestin, I have no clue, I only realize that if you popped in to my place for a short while, then the road of my life, narrow as a sharpened blade, would become as wide as this reach. She stayed, they say, with him for a while on the eve of his decisive heat with the head dog master, but even that was more than the supplicant could handle. I am worried: She is my intended demise, and she, , is lookin for me, , pinin. And I don’t know what measures to undertake—to get lost without a trace or to to her with a confession. But neither this nor that is possible right now. —that’s whom I trust, whom I praise— admonished the wardens: You, , . They started scurryin, but . Perhaps , perhaps , perhaps it simply floated down the stream. But for it makes no difference, put it back where you took it, needs it here and now. . Some have , some , some , but he—he is sittin here . . Do think they are waitin for alms? No way, there’s nothin they could hope for, so far they didn’t earn it. No, not for alms— they’re waitin for those . And as soon as you promptly get outta there, . Their calculations are simple: Probably, lookin at these revoltin things, or simply due to the fresh air, you’ll serve them ten-kopeck . And if you get stingy—a more noble regular will split his sides. And the droolers will run up and snarf everythin. And they right away, and at once engage in marriages-weddins, right in public, and as a result, they give birth to such mongrels that better don’t let anybody see them. They get born, get stronger, and, like their granddads and moms—along the beaten track, with their famous side-amble—march, march to the . Halloo, the chain of these generations ain’t breakin here, it rings, clanks, and the snack bar, standin in full view, doesn’t disappear from our eyes. We’re all mankind’s brood, my dear, and we’re no strangers to . Now consider truthfully my position, how can get his body goin, not to mention the more secret things. My companion escorts me to the bench near the gate—and I’m sittin, enfeebled, under the , temptin my female neybors. Hark! A snowcap fell on my ; stop it, , watch out, , you’ll get what you’ve been askin for. They pulled, they pulled the wool over ’s eyes, he found himself cast aside, and the public makes fun of his . Here they are, as such, , and . But do me a favor, don’t worry: —and back. Everythin had already happened on the , all the folks had already been there before. Let’s say, somebody appears, and they call him: Hey, feller wanderer, will you have some? But the comer cuts them short: You took me for someone else, I’m yours, homegrown, you simply forgot about me, so just pour. I also claim— kicked his heels about, settled here and there, happened to visit the Wolf River, drank the , sharpened the unsharpened, caressed , and went, whenever he needed, for into the wild blue yonder. Hence, I am smart like, approximately, . He remarks with insistence: Everythin around is drunkenness, , and the river just flows and flows, and she don’t give a hoot about nothin. I agree, but lemme be more precise: They come drunk and sit, never leavin the , and she flows, but the shores remain. And on the shores we’re nestin—and . But I chatted with too long, I’ve got to hit the sack. If need anythin, wander in to have some tea; don’t be shy—we’ll do some tea-drinkin, tea-sippin. At the same time I dare to bother about the followin: Do You have any spare ? I’m a fan, I possess a passion for collectin. Bring them as they are, along with the candy. And salt, matches, and other necessities are constantly with us. And for the bad writin You will, undoubtedly, excuse me, I was composin in a considerable haste, and . And the signature, if I may. And those who are illiterate—a cross. Listen, Maybe I’m a or maybe the wind simply blew it in. Whatever’s the case, somehow I have to set on paper the abovementioned. And . All the most exceptional to .

Bell-bottoms, a fleet cap with a crab, a pea coat with anchors—what a picture. And he presents himself—sailor Albatrosov, discharged without hands from the dry-cargo carrier to the ball of landlocked destiny; and what year did You launch from Your mother’s port? I also introduce myself. To our harbor, he says, ocean ships kept steerin, to drop anchor, I says, when their job was done, in the tavern, he says, merry sailors kept on cheerin, drinkin, I says, to the health of their valiant ataman. That’s all true, nodded the Black-fleeter, but for me you better touch upon love, adjust the music a little bit. Sure, even a hundred times. And I offer to the attention of the listener the cherished and sorrowful song. Chrysanthemums stopped bloomin long ago in the park, but despair’s still abloom in my own dear heart. My Albatros dipped his rudder, started clearin his throat, the dry cough is shakin the seaman. And just then comes a way station, and a Ukrainian dawdler is peddlin mill cakes—periphery, outskirts. I jerked the door open and screamed: Hey, partner, do you need teeth? ’Cuz I overspent durin my ride. Oh, I do, she says, I do, without them I’m at my wits’ end. I’m lettin both jaws go for three rubles, just look how white—like a bone. I did let them go and became a lisper again. It’s nothin, we’ll manage, for the grateful chum we’d even give an eye for analysis. The express moved forward and we moved to its restaurant: Munch to stop the hunger’s rage, take your meds from early age. We captured by abordage two reserved seats and ordered everythin delightful—even the fish sticks. And he reports: You have upset my livers with them chrysanthemums, I’m a son of a witch, when I was a novice sailor, I was based on the trainin pontoon, on a cracked barge, and I did not even have a chance to blink, when on the park’s bald spots with all kinds of carousels began to loom, he says, a foolhardy mamuasel—a gal not too appealin but always willin. At first I used to hang out with her alone, but later I would bring those mates who did not have to stand watch, and it was exactly she who was tormented by this song. And when we were raisin the anchors, I got away for an hour from all hands on deck—and to the girl. For farewell she gives me a piece of paper: She wrote down all the stanzas and put the address on the back—the lane, the buildin, and the room. As if to say: Don’t forget, send snapshots. But durin a campaign there ain’t much to write about, and it’s forbidden too, and later we all got placed into school’s custody, and there we’re even less into letters, a complete rat race: either the solitary confinement, or scrubbin, or crammin the Morse, and with cadets there are scrapes ’cuz of hussies—it’s no joke. No, seafarin soul, mine did not leave any address, just left God only knows where, and now try to claim damages. We tasted misfortune with her, lived together in her pad quite a while, but did not stockpile nothin except Yakov—a smartie but, nevertheless, a dummy, and even then she hinted that not I am his happy father, from a switchman, supposedly, she got like that, ’cuz she was servin at the switch, and in the beginnin was on duty round the clock. Where and how, I tried to learn, at what hour? Well, she esplains, on a pile of discarded wood chips, next to the storeroom, where they used to eat suppers. Suppers or not suppers, who’s gonna check, but I was troubled a lot. Orya was cuttin me without a knife, but altogether, I underline, it was bearable, and it only turned unbearable when she advanced to a dispecher there and started actin as tactlessly as can be. A hair pick like any other, and yours, made of tortoiseshell, I lost on the rails. Well, and this one here, how on earth?—I was askin, feelin completely cheated but not ready for a clash. She kept givin me runarounds, insolent to the max—I found it on the rails too. Your vale is like the railroad, came to my mind, but you yourself—you’re a slutty broad, you ain’t mine, your most strongest friendship ain’t with me, not in this here hovel, not on this here reclinin device, but on those same rails; they even managed to make you Yashka on the ties. I started wondrin.

And the dawn, I’ll say frankly, is catchin fire stronger than any dawn on the other side of the Wolf, although You, most likely, can hardly understand what we, the inhabitants, call Beyond the Wolf. That’s why I am rowin, a water strider, to the other shore. Briskly-briskly I row, sprightly-sprightly, and the masts are bendin and they creak, but the Itil outdid my brisk pace with its width, and the day midges are already at the heels of the swarms of mornin moskitos. I reach it before lunch, and my scull like a fish jumps out on the sand at full speed. I celebrated my achievement with Your second smoke and I’m hobblin along on my squeakers, observin the growth of lilies. I confirm: They toil not, they spin not, and yet they’re dressed spic-and-span. But skimmin thru these here sketches of mine, You have the right to exclaim in protest. I am sensin Your puzzlement, I’m not a knucklehead, even if I’m disfigured, but let’s agree once and forever: Crutches are crutches, but mushrooms—nuts. And I cannot, due to the first, whilst they ain’t present, and havin abandoned the trips for the third and the second, sit like my namesake from Murom without stirrin for thirty years plus three more of travel restrictions. Thank goodness, Krylobyl visited me and, feelin sympathy, enlightened. Ilya Petrikeich, he declares cleverly, do you insist that the time fuctions everywhere in unison? I said: I do not insist. I have nothin to hide, Sidor Fatherovich; when I insist, then I do insist, but if I don’t—then right away: I don’t insist and that’s it, why drag it on. And I told him squarely: You may be offended, complain, you have the right, but I am givin you my word: Yes, I do not insist. Look, Krylobyl, this know-it-all, instructs, let’s take not time, but an ordinary river. Well, let’s. And turn your imagination, he pesters, that it practically doesn’t move in the backwater; duckweed and grasses are stranglin it, while at the channel line it rushes; and the time fuctions the same way, he esplained, in Gorodnishche it moves, approximately, like a stroke of a swift’s wing, in Bydogoshch, not too fast and not too slow, and in the woods, a total peace and quiet. For that reason, mind my assurances that the theft, of which you are the victim, took place so far only in our beloved town and nowhere else, and on the other side nobody even heard about it. That means, if you move over there—everythin will be right again. I took all this under consideration and started goin on the future scow to bygone years. The main difficulty—how to get to the moorin posts. Regardless of graphs and paragraphs, around here there was and still is a severe shortage of volunteers to assist the defectives, that’s why we are the chosen ones. And for that reason, in adventures of the given kind, I, a good chap, am aided only by the familiar to You thrice-removed relatives. I have rowed across and hobble aimlessly, havin trampled lameness with lameness, and You—here, in the present—are studyin this Volapuke. You’ve gone up on the porch to get some air and turned Your imagination to me; You shield your eyes: Our scamp has a finger in every pie—I see the grinder Beyond the Wolf. No, I see You there, ’cuz not I am there but You. In a word, we both are right. After all, since we are on different sides, we also have a different geography: You are Beyond the Wolf and I am too. Well, so she misplaced her attention to the tot, returns tanked up, and I—I’m a scandal-maker. And one day Orina tells me straight on: Say, let’s divide our toys in half. Ilya has nothin to divide, all his toys from the belongins kind, of plates-foot-bindins type—are one or two and he’s ready to go. I loaded the ammunition into my indestructible snatch-it-all, into a sack, bowed to the cheater, kissed sonny, probably not my own, rolled down the banisters to the basement, and opened under the stairs a kind of a fur-makin workshop, I became a sort of a chillin furrier. But actually I was makin a livin by paintin and sellin various inflatable balloons from a pharmacy and inventin squeak-squaks. There’s no doubt that I slept there too, and slightly later, to avoid tiffs with the powers that be, obtained a patent. How the heck—it’s on the bottom of the list now—but I gathered as many orders as cat’s tears, so I was forced to beg on local trains and make repairs to this or that old thing; I also became a whiz on a few instruments. Or somethin else—one may wander now and then at dawn to the dump—one may look, but I’m just a spook, a fidgety bum. Widely and freely, I dare to mention, spread these malodorous fields; occasionally, you’ll go far-far in search of joys—and you’ll get lost. When you’re workin hard, everythin drags by imperceptibly; it’s already noon, and if not the frosty sparks, then skylarks. You’ll ascend the garbage mound to get some rest—your spirit will flare up: A tip-top site! Look around: In the west, in the valley, the ragpicker scrapes the garbage with her rake; in the north, a three-pawed bitch scours for some grub; in the east, a sergeant-reservist rummages in the stream—raves about assemblin a motorcycle out of spare parts; and in the south, some riffraff scavenges for cigarette butts. Peace, calm, nobody’s doin nothin to nobody, ’cuz here a man is a man to man, nothin more; and the smokes of the fatherland are everywhere, like durin that uprisin—garbage smolders softly, a real panorama wherever you’d turn your head. And such closeness to it pinches inside, that to return home—to hell with it! Our inhabitant is attracted to the expanses of his land and he needs nothin else. In those same quarters I put together a decent lidrary, so to speak, that is, a collection of multicolored tops from various mixtures: colognes, perfumes, You know what. In this sense, invaluable help by her advices and greetins used to gimme that western ragpicker, auntie with meat on her bones, well-bred and with experience, and she was sixty-plus years old—a delicacy, no more no less. It’s an adventure from the past, and I will not hide what was: I had a fleetin crush on her, as also happened, incidently, with her grand-ward, or similar to it, for which, of course, in retrospect, I blame myself, if that’s required. Ladies’ flesh is a great temptation; that certain thing—we yearn for it but can’t be held accountable. The same here: Everythin started almost like when you just fool around. She kept objectin, avoided me, frowned, but if you dig more deeply—there’s no difference. In the barracks they used to say that she’s nuts, she’s like that from birth, but personally I wouldn’t claim nothin exceptional. The only thing that her head was really rather absurdly small, but the ragpicker assured—it’ll ripen to the weddin, it will heal; well, if it’ll ripen, it’ll ripen, the caretaker knows better. One day she sends her girlie with some hide for me to scrape—and I got excited in my declinin fate. Only don’t look for faults, Fomich, in the beginnin I curbed my curiosity, what things are like with her, that is, at her age, You know, well, so accidently I put the bolt in the lock, in secret, that is, from myself. Later I reckon—devil has his ways—I’ll take a gamble, not everythin is done by calculation, like with grandmas, it would be nice with their grandkids every now and then, spontaneously. And the incorrigible happened, I deployed myself with the adolescent in excitement and at the heat of the moment. We agreed to meet; sometimes we please each other under the stairs, other times under the bowroat. After several months, on the side, from a friendly guitarist, to whom I am eternally grateful for teachin me how to read music, I learn that some rivermen secretly cleave my teenager. I turned a blind eye—she’s not made of soap, she won’t foam away, and they’re doin what the young do, that’s their right—they’ll cleave and leave. Orina worried me, her contacts led me off the rails, and feelin lonely without her, I grieved under the scow, crawlin on the rags that should be burned so they won’t stink. And the ticklin trash like flies fed on the junk and made its habit to walk over the exposed places. At first they didn’t bother me; on the contrary, I derived some pleasure from them, but closer to the Assumption they ate me alive, and my encouragement ended. And in the hole of the rowlock there lived a wolf spider. The entire bottom, like heavens above, he entwined with his web. I kept catchin the insects and throwin them into his nets. How neatly he, unscrupulous, kept takin out the souls of these creatures, yikes! Pasha, my comin, my Spider, wrote Pyotr to his nephew from the village, I haven’t seen an event more borin than January without yeast, so bring it hook or crook. In my heart I believe, he continued, in my heart I know you won’t lemme down, but the mind is weak, gets tempted: You will not bring it, after all; woe is us, tipplers, in that case. Precisely then, Pavel sends me the news by the Fenist. Ilyusha, sir, our prophet, I and Pyotr here got into our heads to stockpile some home brew, and ’cuz you wish us well even without that, and helped us with the letter zhe, won’t you loan us, besides that, some money, as I will liken the yeast Beyond the Wolf to everythin marvles, and winter without it I will compare to spring without top boots, or to the same winter but without valenki; like a dreadful nightmare, he exploits, will be the flutterin above us, apostles, so please. I procured some paper, sand, dipped the pen into the inkwell and started gazin with admiration outside, where the lonesome snowbabe, sculpted by me, broke into a serious drip. On the calendar—the end of the side-warmer, but wait a bit with grinnin, March may still force you to sell your last shirt. Stop sendin the Fenist in vain, I answered Pavel, you and your uncle won’t get money from Ilya, so far I’m not dispensin money but healins, and these only to those that show respect, and even more not to be guzzled away: ’Nuf of gettin pickled; but before I, maybe, send you money, before that, you’ll deliver to me by a courier my accessories. Which? Well, those that you and the saints like you filched in December, havin chosen for this the confusion of darkness and the hubbub of the blizzie. And I passed on to the whipper-in the ultimat to take care of and solve our discord in secrecy, without proclaimin it from the housetops, by agreein that neither the wolf nor the hound, but somehow neither this nor that, somethin like the mornin evenin, and that I, bein amenable, would hope for the return of one instead of two. And the reply: Wipe clean, he offends, your bodily beacons and watch out so you won’t get tossed accidentally into the outside darkness. And then I decided to undertake this here supplication to You, and to forget the Spider and his request, havin punished him with a chill rebuff. What’s been said—we will do, but let’s not forget—or else the night will remind us—how with his trunk he kept takin out the souls of the flies under the boat.

And I started wondrin. Orya, my Orya, they also kept chafin you all over the hollows in the same manner. On weekdays of the paycheck or on Fridays of the advance, in the famed alders beyond the tracks, unknown to me trainees, your darin buddies from railroad vocational schools, were audaciously carousin with you. You are quite weak, Orina Ignatyevna, as it became clear, between Your legs, You ain’t indifferent to sweets, and not a hair pick You’ve lost on the rails but honor. For a faceted tumbler of the poison from Kashin you caressed them every which way, you wanton shrew. Why, I would quietly wanna find out, you never fondled Ilya like that? And a certain bush grew over there, inconspicuous, but thick and close by, and durin lengthy twilights I observed indecencies from there; You were a Sodomite, little mother. Afterward I would go to the nutty one, tryin to recoup my losses, but with her—like with a doll—she would look at me as if she was made of lead, not indulgin me in any whim. On the weekday of railroad paycheck or on Friday of the advance, I knocked back a few on account of someone’s generosity, picked up a piece of iron by the depot, and I’m waitin in the famous alders beyond the tracks. And these rascals, shorties sixteen boyish years old, appear and lead my workin girl on the execution meadow of love. I decided to wait—let them begin; then, filled with more courage, I will attack from behind the kurgan like a perfidious infidel. Quickly, five of them got pickled and started doin what each was good at. Eh, I think, ready or not, here I come. But then I reckon: If you rush the stuff you will make them laugh, you’ll scare them inadvertently; I better hold my fire. And from nothin to do I keep rereadin a ticket that I also picked up, with a number, truly, 8,420 to be exact, suitable for travel last year to such an unforgettable land as the Meadow Saturday. This cardboard piece affected Ilya, affected him a great deal. Just imagine, Fomich, the Meadow Saturday. That is, not only Saturday but in addition framed by meadows, perhaps even water ones. And streams of concertina are splashin over them. And the weekenders, in ironed clothes, and even with canes, keep strollin, beamin about somethin appropriate. Everythin is calm, no mug-thrashin, only the coachmen swear at water carriers, but even that with yawns. And if they decide to sit for a while in the shadow with company—retire, gentlemen, into the bushes, to special stands, and relax to your health. I pictured for myself this bliss, so unlike our places, and I make a commitment: Whatever happens, regardless of any scrapes or anythin else—to pay Meadow Saturday a visit in the future existence. And I tied a knot. On my necktie. And when together with the sailor Albatrosov we whistled ourselves all hands on deck, havin abruptly abandoned the buffet car ’cuz our funds ran out, and we moved to the foksel, our steamboat was dockin at the proper embarcadero. We disembarked, looked around, and lingered in that hole a couple of weeks—what boonies and wastes! With no money and desperate, we hanged around there like jerboas, and havin conversations with the locals, we were talkin to them, sayin: And you dare to call yourself Meadow Saturday. We scrounged half a ruble for smokes and followin the dictates of our hearts plodded down to Gorodnishche to have some fun and, after arrivin, we inquire: How’s that young life of yours? So-so, they answer, we’re gettin by little by little. And how are you managin with chasers? Well, we almost always manage to fill our stomachs with some innards. So after our arrival, we got to be there, and havin a surplus of ailments, started hangin about. On the day of railroad paycheck or the day of the advance, I’ve had a gulp in the joint near the station with rail workers-tipplers—and I stand jealous in the bush with the danglin iron. How I jumped out, how I leaped out with the hatchet: Aha, I threaten them, aha! And they: Grab him, grab him! Brace yourself, they yell, such-and-such jerk! Four of them caught up with me and knocked me down as I fled. And they kept stompin on me, askin: How about that, did we catch you fair and square, you mother-sucker? You did catch me, I cry, cap-bands, you banged me up, hammers in button loops, as fair and square as can be. I try to break free—but they hold fast. They pounded me like Sidor’s goat, got me filthy all over and—I see—they are draggin me, the poor wretch, along the gray slag with my mug down. And they’ve pulled me up the embankment, spiders, and, relentless, are clampin me to the rail with barbed wire. Why do it, kiddos, I agonized, am I some kind of a fox cub to you? Tenacious, with their crafty mitts they completely squash me on the stinky ties, deviously don’t lemme breathe. They had fastened me like a valenok to the speed skate—crosswise and leavin no slack, with linesman’s pliers, and then they split, chickens. I’m also scared—I’m waitin for the express. And—as it is customary—I started refreshin my past: How did I live this time, decently or not? I reckoned this and that, and the characteristic turned out mostly not bad. I had the reputation of a serious, respectable gentleman, had not committed, as they say, highway robbery. And when the embers of the heavenly matters were already pourin down from above, then, in spite of everythin, this strange Orya appeared to help. She kept callin the obnoxious Ilya a poor fox, started to unwind the wires—and was shakin like a leaf. And I felt with my whole shoulder blades that my express is comin close, and the wires are many and thick. It had but a few meters left, it was humiliatin with its lanterns, made noise. I said: Orya, sweetie, so long, step aside. And she: And maybe together? Not with me, I negate, you stick with the cap-bands. And she: Don’t be cross about that, with them urchins I just so—to have a little fun, to visit for a while—but my joy was bein with you, I felt with you like earth with grass, she says, and forget my excesses—everythin passed, healed, sharp teeth, long tail. You have mixed it up, little mother, you’re confusin somethin, seriously, do I take after a fox? The magpie is sick, she claims, the crow is sick too, she says, and Ilya is healthy and glad, she casts the spell. I jerked, jerked, pulled, but partially did not succeed. It swooped, mangled, hot, and my hands-legs scattered all over. The battalion of about-goners grew larger; commander, receive the reinforcements. And the infirmary. Havin not found this and that in the makeup of my body, I came to a boil and demanded consolation. A hulk of a doc in a cap floats in. To my question, Where is my friend?—he says the miserly: She’s done for. To the bonesetter: Go, heal Thyself, I permit myself not to believe You—just look what You’ve thought up; I made a row. And my treatment went on. There were newspapers, slippers, shavin was provided.

And I recalled how, braggin about his sharpened blades, Gury kept tootin his horn among the masters in the co-op that so far he missed the sad chore of racin races against the whipper-in; I’ll blow by, he claimed, as if he was standin in place. As a result, they started arguin, put wine in the kitty. Havin received the notification-declaration, the whipper-in approves. They agreed to run as usual, in the dark, and, possessin the mental hypervision, I see them like now—one in clothes patched, the other in mismatched. At the takeoff, they clawed nose by nose, and they aspired to run almost exactly from the pant-washin deck to the Sloboda tributary, to the Tavern Island number two—and back. And they rushed along, cuttin the ice with their skates. The whirlin snow dusted the tracks of their heroic deed, and the fishes not as much saw the athletes as heard them, but in the near future perhaps they’ll have a chance to taste one of the participants; come and pray, large and small fishie. A few verstas before the turn, Gury began gainin and the whipper-in fallin behind, but Gury aimed slightly more to the right than he should and fell into a polynya, an ice hole in the area of the fairway. It does not freeze there under any conditions, and quite a number of sleepyhead coachmen and lunatic speed skaters fell in over there. They failed to account for Gury too; he plopped in and right away got sucked under the ice, so the dog master on his part just started sobbin. They decided to hold the wake for the wolf-slayer without his factual presence; nobody was in the mood to wait until he floats up somewhere or until the kiddos pull him out with a dragnet: In most of their cases our folks embrace the lack of time. And so they gathered at the gravedigger’s. You know Beyond the Itil, here it’s impossible to put an end, even if relative, to quarrels and disputes: They started arguin about love—say, who she is, that thoroughly beautiful madame. Everyone stuck to his guns; one, like Vasily Karaban, that Everlastin Existens dropped in to visit, the other—on the contrary: discords, bad harvest, events. And I, stayin pas, don’t butt in, keep neutral. But to You—to You I admit, obviously not to tell the others, since even without that they consider Ilya a chucklehead. Why, what on earth for did she persuade the medical four-eyes to powder my brains—I can’t make sense of it. And now she’s remorseful, searches along the entire river, ain’t there among you the one, you know, who. They are lyin that no, as they themselves are head over heels in love: We don’t know who you are concerned about, but all of us wouldn’t mind bein with you. And Gury’s also like them, even though he’s a Chud. Oh my precious, he pleaded, our reach ain’t narrow—it’s wide, and where this youngster is nestin, I have no clue, I only realize that if you popped in to my place for a short while, then the road of my life, narrow as a sharpened blade, would become as wide as this reach. She stayed, they say, with him for a while on the eve of his decisive heat with the head dog master, but even that was more than the supplicant could handle. I am worried: She is my intended demise, and she, Orya, is lookin for me, Fomich, pinin. And I don’t know what measures to undertake—to get lost without a trace or to hobble to her with a confession. But neither this nor that is possible right now. Krylobyl—that’s whom I trust, whom I praise—Krylobyl admonished the wardens: You, light of your own eyes, return to the cripple what’s the cripple’s. They started scurryin, but the sought for completely vanished. Perhaps it was drunk away, perhaps thrown behind a bush of brittle willow, perhaps it simply floated down the stream. But for Ilya it makes no difference, put it back where you took it, Ilya needs it here and now. He got stuck, he got stuck for good without them. Some have Sloboda, some Overbrowears, some Gorodnishche, but he—he is sittin here like a dog on vomit. Just look, as long as we’re talkin about it, how many of them hold a watch in a circle around our establishment. Do You think they are waitin for alms? No way, there’s nothin they could hope for, so far they didn’t earn it. No, not for alms— they’re waitin for those who celebrate their promotions. And as soon as you promptly get outta there, these doggish mutts begin to swallow their frozen turds and show their tongues. Their calculations are simple: Probably, lookin at these revoltin things, or simply due to the fresh air, you’ll serve them ten-kopeck macaroni à la fleet. And if you get stingy—a more noble regular will split his sides. And the droolers will run up and snarf everythin. And they get drunk right away, and at once engage in marriages-weddins, right in public, and as a result, they give birth to such mongrels that better don’t let anybody see them. They get born, get stronger, and, like their granddads and moms—along the beaten track, with their famous side-amble—march, march to the sickler. Halloo, the chain of these generations ain’t breakin here, it rings, clanks, and the snack bar, standin in full view, doesn’t disappear from our eyes. We’re all mankind’s brood, my dear, and we’re no strangers to knockin down a shot. Now consider truthfully my position, how can Ilya get his body goin, not to mention the more secret things. My companion escorts me to the bench near the gate—and I’m sittin, enfeebled, under the pines, temptin my female neybors. Hark! A snowcap fell on my forhead; stop it, woodpecker, watch out, hoopoe, you’ll get what you’ve been askin for. They pulled, they pulled the wool over Ilya’s eyes, he found himself cast aside, and the public makes fun of his Saturdays. Here they are, Discords Beyond the Itil as such, Fomich, and we cannot wait to taste the nonexistence. But do me a favor, don’t worry: We’ll get milled over—and back. Everythin had already happened on the Itil, all the folks had already been there before. Let’s say, somebody appears, and they call him: Hey, feller wanderer, will you have some? But the comer cuts them short: You took me for someone else, I’m yours, homegrown, you simply forgot about me, so just pour. I also claim— Dzhinzherela kicked his heels about, settled here and there, happened to visit the Wolf River, drank the vino, sharpened the unsharpened, caressed lonesome babes, and went, whenever he needed, for seasonal work into the wild blue yonder. Hence, I am smart like, approximately, Krylobyl. He remarks with insistence: Everythin around is drunkenness, everyone comes drunk and leaves drunk, and the river just flows and flows, and she don’t give a hoot about nothin. I agree, but lemme be more precise: They come drunk and sit, never leavin the crashbaret, and she flows, but the shores remain. And on the shores we’re nestin—and our life is eternal. But I chatted with You too long, I’ve got to hit the sack. If You need anythin, wander in to have some tea; don’t be shy—we’ll do some tea-drinkin, tea-sippin. At the same time I dare to bother You about the followin: Do You have any spare candy wrappers? I’m a fan, I possess a passion for collectin. Bring them as they are, along with the candy. And salt, matches, and other necessities are constantly with us. And for the bad writin You will, undoubtedly, excuse me, I was composin in a considerable haste, and I also took a little bit of medicine thanks to my merciful hostess. And the signature, if I may. And those who are illiterate—a cross. Listen, where in the world did I find such a last name, where did I snag it? Maybe I’m a Gypsy baron or maybe the wind simply blew it in. Whatever’s the case, somehow I have to set on paper the abovementioned. And pour some sand on it. All the most exceptional to You.