Жар-птица
far away - far, far away high in the deep seas, there lived a one man birder. Craft as a profession: smash traps for nesting, pitched the network, set up the cage and purse, hidden traps and snares, poured around lure, on a branch somewhere near tied a stuffed bird, sat down with the decoy in the bushes and began to cackle, coo, or click kurlykat, filled trills, Tweet, tokovat and wait. And when caught some singer, he carefully took out his wings clipped, smoothed his tousled feathers, and sell it on the market. Sometimes I come across a lot of birds, sometimes just enough to barely did not die of hunger, and the cases that came home with empty hands. Once he as usual came to the very edge of the palm grove. There was beating a small fontanelle, the water in it was clean and cool. Near him, he placed great podmannuyu bird. It was burning in the sun as the fire glowed and shimmered like a rainbow. He made it himself, the most beautiful feathers, and feathers, torn from all birds that ever was caught in his hands. Between the nearest trees pulled wide and thin web of a network with small, almost invisible cells. And since the midday sun flooded the valley debilitating heat, he sat nearby in the shadow of a century of cypress and soon fell asleep. And while he slept nearby flock of birds flew tired. They were in the way of long-predolgo, probably looking for something and did what they could not find. Waved their wings, cheering each other, but their strength slowly leaving, necks and zobiki dried up, because they flew something over the desert. Suddenly they saw a mirror, a spring, and above it - beautiful, colorful creation with silk wings, frozen in silent contemplation. From its beauty simply breathtaking. Flock made a circle, down, the birds are a whisper passed each other good news. They had the hope that finally found it in search of something flew over half the world. The wind blows, knocked down a flock of course, and She got into the network. Birds beat their wings in fright, but the more they tried to free himself, the tighter their entangled flexible insidious web of networks. They cried and food, plaintively asked for help from the magically beautiful feathered creatures. However, the beautiful bird was not moving. But the bird-catcher - he turned from side to side, his eyelids quivered with excitement. And all because he had a dream: on the square before the temple of nowhere came a gang of beggars. From dirty, unshaven and unshorn vagrants at a hundred feet smelled like the old goat. In their temple, of course, was not allowed because at first glance it was clear to everyone what we can expect from them. They sat on the square around the fountain and said they wanted to talk to the supreme cleric, otherwise they and the places not to move. Above them, scoffed: "Even then, the supreme cleric busy things more important than breeding container bars with such rabble." A tramp lined up under the stairs of the temple and began to show different spells, tricks, magic tricks and other enticing metamorphosis. People stared at them with open mouths, came running from all directions, crowding, and soon the whole town did not talk about anything else, how about these oddball. Then they ask again, what they need. They threw their tricks and convincingly asked: "We need to talk to preosvyaschennikom, only he can help us." Their petition, they had to repeat more than once or twice, until they have not walked a little, bearded feast in a white fez with gold tassel. "Exactly, exactly as my father," thought the bird-catcher in his sleep. Persons of other people he had not seen. A feast, and says: "Peace to you." A they are to him: "Takzhe you." A feast to them: "I was considered the high priest, so to speak, what's wrong." They were huddled around him surpassing, lowered his voice to a complete mystery and asked: "But you keep your mouth shut, okay?" Hierarchy promised. And they say: "One of us - God! But we do not know who it is! You must help us. "Feast laughed, but then, however, looked grim. "You can not fire a flirt!" He threatened them on the paternal. And they again formed a line and let us show different miracles, phenomena, magic tricks, miracle, revival, healing and various zelo felsharstva. And in their eyes, turned to the feast, was a dumb question. But he suddenly somehow swelled and grew up, became a carcass preogromen. And threatened them: "Guys, tie until late!" "You do not believe us," stretched magicians disappointed. And spread hands. Made their way out of the ground water springs, fountains sang glory to vysotseh, wells were filled with rose oil, the river is crystal nectar, the desert bloomed, roofs of temples and houses were covered with gold and precious stones, wild animals and predators gentle step came at the city gate, sat down on the streets, repented человеческими голосами и клялись, что верят в Бога, освещающего правдой все сущее.
А пир вдруг завертелся. Он вертелся все быстрее и быстрее, пока не превратился in the tornado, which all grew and grew until it reached for the sky. Then he stopped. And he looked at them from a height. "Here I'll help you now!" He yelled thundering and pulled from his sleeve a fly swatter. And plop! Plop! Swinging, became one after another to kill wretched beggars. They swarmed at him, raised his hands, a plaintive beg for mercy, but the giant feast: plop! Smeared on the pavement one more Chudesniki. And after each slap, converting another poor fellow into a sticky mess, yelling: "This is not God!" Plop! "And this, too, no!" Gawker huddled under the staircase of the temple, which opened a terrible crush and crush. However, they still managed to buy up pieces of human remains poor prophets. Eagerly snatched them dragged into the crowd, tore and cut with a knife and scissors. "Just in case," murmured they shove about their trophies on the bags, shopping-bags, and bags. Crowding was such that the bird-catcher presilno suddenly pushed in the back. He staggered and fell out from under the stairs into the arena. Plop! Swatter slapped right beside him. Fowler spattered blood, mucus and excrement, legs became cotton, he oblilsya then, rectum relaxed. "This, too, not God!" Thundered from the heights of rumbling voice. Fowler looked. He stood all alone among the shattered area, full of chunks of meat, debris limbs and skulls, bits of blood oozing membranous mucosa, skin, hair, viscera and bowels rags, who swam in the disgusting mess, reeking of carnage. He stood alone. And over his head in his darkened. A huge shadow with a whistle shut the fly swatter entered heaven. And suddenly, not knowing and not knowing how and why of all this, get rid of. He left his own body, the world spun, and he received his sight. And declared: "I am the light!" Sh-sh-sh-sh, flew through the He intangible shadow. Flyswatter disappeared. Disappeared and a feast. Area has disappeared, vanished temple. Fowler woke up. "I am the light!" He whispered as in a fever. "I am the light!" The Sun was at its zenith, directly across from him, burned in Zenica. He covered his eyes with his hand. And osmotelsya around. I saw the torn network in which rocked dehydrated Heat calf dead birds. "The whole flock!" He shook his head with regret, "such a pity!" Only a rooster was still alive, shuddered in its death spasm. He sprinkled his vody, freed from the net and put it in my bag. And then immediately rushed to the city. Ran through a palm grove along the dusty road to the gate, and thence made his way through a maze of dark alleys, through the marketplace and the kasbah, where people are crowded. And all the while repeating: "I am the light! I am light! "Finally, he found himself on the main square. "I am the light!" He exclaimed in joyful ecstasy. A muezin minarets interrupted their lingering appeals bent over the railing and looked down. "I am the light!" Screamed the bird-catcher, laughing and dancing. A man ran from the mosque, the crowd hurried shoes sandals and stared at him. "I am the light!" Exclaimed the bird-catcher, and the wind inflated his coat and lifted into the air dust at his feet. And ran Wali and the Cadi, and he told them: "I am light! "And his eyes were burning. And took him to the caliph, that he senses it. However, the bird-catcher did not heed his words, that is heresy, and kept saying his siyaschuyu truth new-found them in a dream. And when it burned at the stake, because - as he was told - in which case this should have happened a strange thing. Bonfire flared up, and birder issued last cry. From the smoke and ash skyward soared Cockerel-crane and anxiety has begun to whirl over the city. From any disturbances, flew a large flock of birds. They happily and freely hovering, sang and waved their wings, floated and frolicked in the air. Cock led a pack of their fellows. Then they all flew together far away, God knows where. But some people still went in the direction in which they flew. Outside the city, on the edge of the desert, they found a palm grove. In the spring lay brownish, rotten stuffed birds, as the sun melted bacon. Some travelers refreshed spring water and walked away. And those who returned, Tell a friend about what he saw of them. They told that kvecheru when the sun is inclined to the horizon and the last tender rays are refracted and reflected from mirror of water in the spring, in a grove of beautiful black grouse flock flies. They sit in the trees, and looking at fixed and darkened the surface of water languidly tokuyut. They say that they pray. -------- Translated into Russian - Nina Vrbovtsova
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