первоапрельское солнце ударило в окно и заиграло в рюмках.
- вот и весна, слава богу; измучились с этой зимой, - сказал хозяин и нежно взялся за горлышко графинчика.
- и не говорите! - воскликнул я и, вытащив из коробки кильку, вмиг ободрал с нее  шкуру, затем намазал на кусок батона сливочного масла, прикрыл его килечным растерзанным телом и, ( Read more... )

the world is full of holes, tiny apertures of meaninglessness, microscopic rifts that the mind could talk through,
and once you were on the other side of one of those holes,
you were free of yourself,
free of your life,
free of your death,
free of everything that belonged to you.

(c) paul auster

translation is a bit like shoveling coal. you scoop it up and toss it into the furnace.
each lump is a word, and each shovelful is another sentence,
and if your back is strong enough and you have the stamina to keep it for eight or ten hours at a stretch,
you can keep the fire hot.
(c) paul auster

у нас что ни факт -- то фарс,
предательство и подлог.
но каждый, конечно, честен, смешлив и чист.
с тобой говорит Декарт,
со мной -- Набоков и Блок.
нам есть, что ответить, но мы обычно молчим.молчим о бесценной хрупкости, смерти и красоте ( Read more... )

засыпаешь в пять ( Read more... )

".. the night maximo was too tired to sit at the pine table. he didn't even prepare dinner. he slept and in his dreams he was a green and yellow fish swimming in warm waters, gliding through the coral, the only fish in the sea and he was happy. but the light changed and the sea darkened suddenly and he was rising through it, afraid of breaking the ( Read more... )