The Asthenic Syndrome Page #2

-You have to take off your hat!

by directors like German,

Sokurov and Muratova.

We can talk, ask some questions.

Comrades, please!

Go back to your seats, please.

We have the chance to meet

a maestro of cinema

A person who participated...

Just a moment.

Mom, you promised me an ice-cream.

-We'll see.

Where do we go?

What's the use of movies like this?

I'm already tired, out of exercise

I'd like to have fun, listen to some music

instead of watching such movies.

I didn't want to see these people

carrying the coffin, burying...

What kind of topic!

-Aljosha, you're tired.

I love you so much!

Your smell!

I could die right now.

Your face.

You look like an angel!

Comrades, stop, please.

We can ask questions...

Let it go, I'm leaving.

Sorry.

Don't do that, don't go away.

What a shame!

-Please.

It was Olga Serghjevna,

probably she'll be back.

I advise you not to miss

such a chance,

The movie we've just seen...

The cinema engaged today...

It's worth to be studied in depth.

Get up!

Get in two rows!

Help me.

Is he drunk?

No, he's just sleeping.

Thanks.

...have to right it down...

"He was middle-aged, or so he believed

The dark spotted by

some street light

Wrapped him in a veil

of musings on himself.

He thought of himself ironically,

with a touch of sadness.

His soul,

closed in the shell of life,

It was weighted down by the

wrinkles of his ancient feelings.

He tried to be good to everyone,

but it was impossible.

He tied new knots

before loosing the old one

the weight became heavier,

but he couldn't let it go.

He wanted something romantic!

A song would do it too.

He wanted "Sever" cigarettes

and curly hairs back in fashion,

That people would say

"I love you" with a slight stutter.

The blow of the wind,

of a laughter,

Of nebulous forebodings of love,

Or rather not,

love was too concrete.

The lowered sights,

the ambiguity of smiles...

Do I lie? No, but I can't

picture with words truth,

which is here, tangible,

like yolk in albumen,

Like yolk in albumen!

Girls, let's curtsy!

Boys, do a quick bow,

Stamp your heels and smile

with grace and rudeness!

Lower your discreet sights and fondle

your dream, the one about jungles,

the sweetest dancers,

mysterious princes...

Tear the murmuring silk

with your fingers,

only slightly brushing

the shivering skin.

Remember it!

And when they'll ask you what are you

thinking about, reply: 'Nothing'."

There's someone here!

-Is one of us.

I had noticed it.

-It was Ljuska, the gardener.

She always sent Mushka away,

I knew she was evil.

When I get there I asked that couple.

And they saw a little black dog

and they gave her a piece of bread.

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