Алиса Альта

Страна: Беларусь

Есть книги, которые мне очень бы хотелось бы почитать, но их никто ещё не написал.

Поэтому приходится писать их самой. И это самое увлекательное занятие, какое может быть: создавать миры, населять их странными существами и устанавливать собственные законы. Каббала говорит, что человек должен стать соратником Творца в улучшении мира, а творческий человек – сам себе бог и архитектор, возводящий целые вселенные. Мы смотрим фильмы, которые идут не на чужеродном экране, а разворачиваются прямо у нас в головах. Разве бывает что-то более интересное?

Country: Belarus

There are some books, which I’ve been craving to read, but no one has written them.
So I decided to write them on my own.
And that’s the most captivating thing in the world – to create universes, populate them with strange creatures and establish your own rules. Kabbalah says that a person should become an ally of the Creator in improving the world, and a creative person is a God himself and an architect who constructs his own cosmos. He watches movies not on a flat screen, but inside

Перевод отрывка из фантастики “Дети Сатурна “

The man in the mantle ascended the rostrum; he put a leather-bound book on a special stand, then voluptuously, like Don Juan before a date, smacked his lips, and dipped his forefinger with a large ring into the yellowed sheets. Having drowsily flipped through a third of the folio, he lingered on a page. Spreading his shoulders and lazily stretching his neck, the shepherd began to preach:

— O ye, the rebel sons of mine! How well have you learned my last sermon? Have you honored your wives like Arimatara-Markhur-Zdorma herself? Have you loved your daughters with the ardor of passion that only the Great Mother has? Have you warmed all of creation, have you taken the sick and the suffering to your bosom? Have you lighted up the darkness with the light of good?

Taurus took his eyes off the book and scanned his flock. His solemn gaze warily rested on Nastya, while the hall was chanting a joyous “yes!”

— I was imagining the Great Mother on the marital bed last night! Oh, what happiness she gave to my wife and me!

— And I kissed my wife’s feet 116 times!

— My breasts are getting bigger and softer!

— I played with my daughters, I became a huge brash doll!

Everyone was shouting out their achievements, but no one had a goal to beat a rival. The men merged in the festive ecstasy of their accomplishments; each one was happy for the neighbor, they all supported each other.

— Hush, hush, — the preacher said with satisfaction. — I see that the love in your hearts grows stronger every day. However, you tend to forget about the principal vulnerability of a man. It’s enough to cut you some slack just once, to lay one rotten brick in the foundation, and the whole building will collapse. What is the primary male vice?

— Pride, — the Arimans muttered almost in chorus.

— Right, my sons. Pride is the original sin of men. As long as there remains a drop of arrogance, hubris, vanity in your hearts, I will scourge and lynch you in my speeches. Well then, go and confess: which of you even for a second has admitted the idea of being superior in anything to a woman? 

A forest of hands timidly went up. Nastya was wandering in its thicket, lost in dense bushes; she counted about forty men, a little less than a half.

— Incredibly horrible, — Taurus shook his head. An oppressive silence hovered over the hall. — I’d like to remind you that the Holy Progenitress sees it all.

Discreet sobs and cries appeared. A lanky, skinny blond lad with disheveled hair jumped up and screamed hysterically.

— But what shall I do, pater, what shall I do?! She said something stupid; I understand everything, but I clearly see that I’m smarter than her. How can I erase these thoughts from my head? I think about how I love the Great Mother and how I respect my wife day and night, but sometimes … you understand…

The shepherd, being as pompous as a turkey, drew himself up and in a well-trained voice started a lecture, which, apparently, he had delivered more than once.

—  You claim to be smarter than her, my son, but have you ever thought about the nature of your mind? Does your intellect worth something? Oh, holy sun! I have explained this not once and I will be repeating it until my tongue withers: your mind, my sons, is a morbid excrescence on a pure heart. It prevents you from loving. You think, therefore, you analyze, you compare, you assess. Is it easy for you to love after all this?

The men shook their heads longingly.

— Take a look at a woman. Supposing she would wholeheartedly believe that science is the best thing in life, thereby would value only science and all those who deal with it. Will she still be able to love her newborn son unconditionally, with all her heart, with all her soul? No, he will only interest her when he becomes a scientist. And where would humanity be taken by such a path? I see through your mindset, men. Your so-called ‘intelligence’ is a skyey castle blown by the winds of abstraction. What things would interest you if you broke free? What does the mud on the streets of Ariman consist of, how high is the spire on the Great Tower, why is the sky yellow… All you would be doing all days longs is spouting nonsense and flaunting your muscles in front of each other. What rubbish! A woman is woven out of love. A woman is created when the mind gets ennobled by emotions. Women’s senses are fraught with myriads of compressed, compact thoughts, which are called intuition. A woman can see through the unknown; in a flash of lightning, she will get the essence, while you will have to spend endless ‘childays’ on figuring out the subject. If we came with the cult of the Holy Progenitress to some dissolute Deit, men would never believe in our dear Arimatara-Markhur-Zdorma. Women would respond in an instant, because they feel the universe. Are you capable of loving like women? When a woman loves, she devotes herself entirely, puts her whole life on the altar. She is not even able to think about treason, she can spend 30 ‘prepaprancies’ waiting for her lover on an abandoned shore. What is your love, men? You can get carried away by a beautiful picture; if a spiritual connection complements it — well, great! If not — we’ll get along without it! And even in serene harmony, in complete unity, you are able to succumb to the charm of another.

A restrained but still indignant murmur swept through the hall.

— I know, sons of mine, that for you all this is not true; you have come out of the womb of the Great Mother, you are filled with the spirit of her holy love. Your soul has almost matched a woman’s, although you are still far from the complete grace. But what about those deprived of the great joy? I was in Deit – and I can safely say that each arimani worth 10 men of this vicious land, I traveled beyond the walls of Kalhinor… Men there are able to abandon their child, they can betray a virginal soul belonging to them entirely for an empty entertainment or a pair of lustful black eyes. There, men waste their time on prolonged barren arguments that lead nowhere. Like silly roosters, they prance and swagger all days long, running rings around each other. And even in those barbaric countries, women see it as an amusement of pea-brained kids. In their infinite generosity, they forgive …

1 Звезда2 Звезды3 Звезды4 Звезды5 Звезд (3 оценок, среднее: 5,00 из 5)