Elena_Panteleeva: переводы

→Wijdane, my little girl, is hooked onto my paragliding harness. The wing - the same one I had twenty years ago, sky blue and sunshine yellow - is spread out behind me on the parvis of the Chateau de la Punta. A warm breeze rises off the Gulf of Ajaccio.

→They had become my companions.

→In a deep trance, the Gnawa repudiated their former slavery, the tassels of their Taguia flapping jerkily like a flag of rebellion, and the snake charmers kept time with them.

→*

And yet I still felt love. The urge toward the unknown drew me away from sadness. Every morning a beautiful woman with firm breasts passed my palm tree without glancing at me. It only she'd look up.... Once, I locked eyes with a Berber woman and stared intensely into her jade gaze until taboo and habit broke the connection. Another time, I said incoherent things to a somber redhead who moved away with a smile. The magic of women brought me relief.

→Nefertiti, goddess of the impossible, floated across the square; the women veiled themselves, the men wept.

→*

For the first time in my blank memory, a light appeared behind my eyelids. I stared at the desert dunes and the haze of the heat for a long time. I plunged into this new torpor, and saw... I saw her. Not you.

→Even as the thought formed, I hated myself for its complacency. How could I contemplate things becoming easier? I had to seek out dissonance. I had to dress and bandage the world. I had to be more compassionate, go into the slums to help the dying to their feet, provide shelter for the orphans, stanch the flow of rebels. I would dream among the faded sounds. At daybreak, strangers would stir and find me on lookout. Every day I would inspect the palette of injustice and choose the futile act that would bring me peace.

→*

The lush clumps of bougainvillea, the scarlet waterfalls of climbing roses, the whisper of the ocher zellige fountain, the quivering olive trees - why couldn't these be the enchantments I saw every day? I could stop rebelling, finally.

→"Fine," I continued, "all society cares about is kicking, but young people... I mean, they're not against it, but they believe in love. A woman is private, she's not some piece of merchandise you put on display. She's someone you respect, someone you think of sharing your lite with...."

→I witnessed the delivery of a brick of pure resin: Abdel whistled out of the car window and a package was thrown down from a third-floor window. I'd turn to this "remedy" in stormy weather until I found myself under beautiful Moroccan skies, in its country of origin.

→"Very funny, Abdel... Ah, it's true; this stuff does make you feel good. We'll have to get some more."

→"Want to bet? Come on, put it there!"

→"Generosity to those weaker than you, friends you can count on... Everything, in a word. You'll see, in a few years, you'll want to fight anyone who ogles your girl."

→"Growing hard, you mean?"

→"When you have a family, you'll fight for them, you'll want to pass on the things you believe in, what you consider beautiful, Abdel. Not a nice pair of breasts, but the beauty of family, of real relationships, of growing up...."

→"A life sentence. Yup, I'm with you there."

→I was on a roll. Abdel let it go.

→At the full moon, when these traumatized souls finally fall into their medicated sleeps, the tribe of the disabled rises and the Promised Land is theirs. This is the night they make love. Women's hips become supple again, men regain their erections. Neither so common that it could ever lose its delight, nor so rare that it could inspire despair - this is paradise.

→Oh, I'm so happy to be in a bawdy mood - don't be angry with me. You've allowed me to feel there can be such a thing as comedy again.

→Imagine not talking for a few hours: when you start again, you might hear something special in the words, a melody you didn't hear before. Go into a coma: when you wake up, you might find yourself beholding beauty.