This time in my bad english

Scared

2009-11-08T14:43:00.007+02:00

After a very long time I translated one of my stories.

*

"Hey, Nick!"

Nicholas Springfield, walking towards the medical building of the army base, looked the man. Even before he saw the expression on Andrew’s face, he already knew from the sound of his voice, what mood a friend is in. Friend's vivacious voice tried to conceal the concern about Nick’s burden, but vivacity didn’t cheat Nick. And Andy knew it. As he caught Nick, he slowed down the tempo to their normal walking speed.

"You’re going to Darnall?" asked Andy after some minutes of walk in silence, during which the two men had come to honor two colonel and one lieutenant-colonel. Nick nodded slightly. "Do medicines not help?"

"No, but I need to get my sleep back before I go home. Claire can understand, however, Mandy ..." A gentle smile appeared briefly on man’s rough face, when a thought about his wife and four year old daughter passed his head. Andy patted friend’s shoulder.

Words were not needed. Weeks and months together in Afghanistan and Iraq had made understanding between the two lieutenants almost perfect. There were times when being on the enemy territory, they had been unable to say a word aloud for days, but there still were, however, the long wordless conversations. They knew how the other thinks and that was enough.

"However, there are gossips that Samuels is one of the best specialists in this field, who’s in the active service. Surely he would not be here otherwise," Andy said.

A half year, while they have not been in the operations, has made friend more talky, noticed Nick. But nevertheless, he was right. Major Samuels is a head of one department in the country's largest military base. But dozens of visits had given no result to do Nick's being better.

"Are you coming in?" Nick asked, when they came to the hospital’s main entrance . Andy nodded.

"I’ll wait in the corridor. Like usually. Hoping to see Elsa walking by," friend grinned, eyes stopped on the tag next to the door.

Darnall Army Community Hospital.

Fortunately, Major Samuels was in his cabinet and free. Nick wasn’t in the mood to wait long time, when he stepped into the psychiatrist’s cabinet.

Major pointed to a comfortable armchair next to his big desk. Nick took a seat there, feeling a slight discomfort. Major looked at him.

"How many times have you been here, Lieutenant?" he asked suddenly.

Nick froze. Middle-aged Major’s question was new. Usually he asked about his health. This time, the question was ... different. In order to feel more comfortable, Nick leaned back in chair, thought a bit and looked out the window, calculating.

On the square, far away Nick saw a unit preparation for going to a missions. Once again to Iraq, and Nick remembered some small talks, where Major Samuels was mentioned as one participant also. Of course - Iraq was not the best place to work. Although the overall situation was calm, there was, however, rebel, who failed to accept the foreign troops in their homeland. Incidents took place, and therefore it was natural that, in addition medics there was a need of specialist, who could take care about the troops mental health also.

A few years ago, when he was completing service in Iraq, he despised all who offered him mental treatment. He understood the need of physical medicine, but mental – no way, he thought then. He had trained himself for the job. And trained well, because none of these towel-heads, whose throats he had cut, never appeared to his nightly dreams. It was natural - he was prepared.

But returning from Iraq, after a half month of the peaceful life at home, Nick frequently began to see dreams of children Iraqis and Afghans, their slack, empty, yet so burning eyes, as Nick had been seen on children, who stood next to their parents’s corpses. Just standing, without any tears.

These children, their eyes have been Nick's night-time companions during last few months. Not a drop of blood. Just children and their eyes.

Nick returned.

"I think that twenty-six times, Major," he said, forcing his voice to calm.

"Hmm ..." Major drew his hand over his hair, eyes sliding over the open pages of Nick's case. "And none of the four methods of treatment has not worked. No, it does not matter, Lieutenant," added Samuels soon as he noticed Nick's mouth opening. "Maybe you should refrain from active service, but I know that you are against it. Love the motherland, call of duty and all that other bullshit keeps you on arms."

"Major." Nick had stiffened on these words.

"Yeah. I know. I know what your operations are, in fact." Major Samuels’s grin was a little more sarcastic than usually. "You are haunted by children and their eyes, but you think it’s perfectly normal to kill and rape their parents. Relax, Lieutenant. That's for what you are. That’s for what you are trained for. You are not the first complaining here about bad memories. I know what is going on there, although I have not been in any of the missions yet. I know." Samuels took half a cup of coffee from table and looked at it long before he took a small rattle. "And so interesting, as it would seem, no one has yet told me, that they are concerned, worried about all these killed people. No - you are disturbed of the small things. Your mind is already designed for such violent activities and mostly these are looking like normal. In fact, however, your mind still understands right and wrong, and your brain is constantly looks outputs to break through these artificial blocs. So you see dreams. The children eyes, broken homes, dead dogs, cats - whatever. "

"What do you mean, Major?" Nick looked at Major, lost in confusion.

"Actually, I have good news for you, Lieutenant Springfield. Once I knew that I am going to Iraq myself, I went to little professional meeting. There were present quite a number of colleagues who are working daily with soldiers, returned from missions. After the official part we sat down to discuss the same problem that disturbs you, Lieutenant, and I think that finally we found a very effective method of treatment. Theoretically. I think the new treatment should help you." Samuels ran finger along the Nick’s file, looking carefully couple underlined paragraphs in it and opened a drawer then.

"This is good news, because I'm going home in two weeks. For two months vacation," said Nick feeling relieved and finally sat back to armchairs again, relaxed. "What is it, the new treatment?"

Major hand raised from the drawer to the height of Nick's head. With a gun.

"Tin," said the psychiatrist phlegmatically and pulled the trigger. Surprised appearance on the face, life extinguished in Nick’s eyes. "But I do not think that it would be good news for you." Major Samuels aimed gun towards the door. He was thoroughly familiar with the file of Lieutenant Springfield. When the door opened, he once again pressed the trigger. Andy, according to Nick's case his best friend and partner in almost everything, sank back to the corridor with the same confused face as his friend has had few moments earlier.

The psychiatrist put the pistol on the table and next to it placed a already written letter. Then he took two sub-machine guns from drawer and rose. He started to move towards the door, listening sounds from the corridor.

"He is scared of eyes! Hah!"

People, running towards Major Samuels’s room, saw psychiatrist to leave his cabinet. And then they saw two P90 sub-machine guns aimed at them. And then they heard shots.

If they were lucky...

*

Alone

2009-02-26T17:41:00.002+02:00

Standing in the darkness
heart is filled with joy
body is still
trembling

In the darkness
on the balkony

Smoke of the cigaret
in its twisted spirals
joining the wind
somewhere above

Watching you
smile
like you always do

these stars
in your eyes
reflecting
the sky

Smiling to me
and still
leaving

in the middle of the night

Leaving me here
smoking
thinking
wondering

Alone
in the darkness
of the night

and thoughts

A little explaination

2008-11-08T14:09:00.003+02:00

Some months ago I made that blog, cause some of my abroad friends wanted to know about what I write in Estonian. And because my actual blog was under another provider then, I had to do new one here for texts in English...

So... Couple of weeks ago I removed all my actions to blogspot anyway, and became a team-mate to myself. There will be no more LordOfMagi writings here, all next ones will be under the name of WH or W. Hocares , which is my writer's name. I published already one book under that name, and there are some new ones under the editing at the moment.

But if I will find some time, I will try to translate some new texts here also. For practicing my bad English ;)

Anyway - I wait for comments...

Fifth man

2008-07-24T17:22:00.004+03:00

Dices rolled and coffee stood on the corner of the table. Ander looked at the face of his opponent, where he could see no trace of any emotions. The man leaned his head to his scar-covered arm, his eyes were focused to rolling dices. As they stopped, he was hesitating for a moment, then rolled the three dices over. Trying to catch three or four sixes, Ander understood and took some coffee.

Music videos came from TV standing on the shelf, videos they had seen over and over.

"Three sixes," said the man and Ander wrote number 18 to paper. His turn to throw.

"Are you coming to play volleyball tomorrow?" he asked. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"I wanted to go to the gym, but if there is a good team, maybe." Silence. Ander wrote down his result. The man took the dices. "No wishes to play with some idiots." Again the dices rolled. The man stood up to pour himself some more coffee. Standing by the cupboard, he looked at Ander, who nodded. Wordless answer to wordless question. The man took a pack of biscuits from upper shelf and brought them to the table. For a moment he was looking at the dices. "Let's finish later. Write in a pair of sixes for me ."

Ander put the dices and the paper away, took two biscuits for coffee and lied down to his bed. His eyes were watching the dancing girls in another lame video, his thoughts were somewhere else, somewhere far away. "When is the birthday of your daughter, Tarmo?" he asked after some time.

The man, who was lying on another bed, lowered his book. "In May."

"She will be three?"

"Yes."

"You miss her so much?"

"Yes."

Ander remembered that little girl, who liked to put her little nose everywhere it didn't belong, and who had the sweetest smile in the world. Ander smiled and looked at Tarmo. It would be really hard to believe, that so big and very serious man could be a father of that kind of a child. Yet there was similarity in their eyes - Ander noticed that when the man had held her daughter in his arms. His eyes were wet then. Never before, during their two years of long friendship, Ander had thought that this man might be so emotional. That moment changed much of his opinions about Tarmo. He had seen Tarmo in many difficult situation, and sensuality seemed to be the last thing to describe that man. But the moment, when father and daughter first met... That made him think how many times he had been wrong about people before.

Knocking. Door opened.

"Come to the kitchen!"

Ander looked at Tarmo. Both stood up. Tarmo was wandering for a second, then shrugged his shoulders and stepped to the corridor. Ander followed him.

There were four man standing in the kitchen. All turned their gaze to the newcomers. The fifth man didn't. The fifth man was lying on the floor. Ander looked at him, then raised his eyes. Tarmo looked at him as well - only a bit longer. Heiki was their friend.

Everybody was quiet. After some minutes Tarmo turned and walked out. Ander was still standing, and sighed.

He had already known that Heiki had had problems sometimes. He knew that Heiki had used drugs. More than once he had had to drag his friend to bed. Couple of times he had even fought with his friend - only when Heiki was under drugs. Heiki understood, all his blue eyes and one broken tooth were forgiven later. But Ander didn't know that Heiki had so big problems.

Once more he looked at Heiki who was lying on the floor; we watched the blood around him; watched the knife in his neck. Then he went back to room, where Tarmo was sitting by the table. Chessboard was set. "You start!"

Ander started with knight.

W. Hocares

Another poem

2008-07-08T13:27:00.001+03:00

Emptiness. Some little wine.
Yet silence reigns in air.
A little hope, though so long time
I've dreamt about a woman fine.

So far away, a thousand miles,
and even more it seems at nights.
I draw a picture from a file
and let it shine in candlelights.

A portrait's fair, but still so cold
I feel in lyin' on cozy bed.
Where is the peace from days of old;
when heart of mine with peace was fed?

And restlessness now makes me stand,
through darkest night it makes me go,
and when the morning gives a hand,
I think I see the portrait's glow.

It calls me somewhere far away,
it calls me to that woman fine.
Nomore I feel I wish to stay...
Nomore I want to waste my time...

W. Hocares

The Rain

2008-06-27T14:30:00.005+03:00

Autumnal rain made the rare traffic in a small village even more quiet - almost emptying the streets. There were no people on the sidewalks; only a few cars were driving through the puddles.

I was standing in front of the local school, by its main door under the wide roof. Maples, surrounding the square in front of the school, had turned from green to golden-red, fallen leaves had made the grass under the trees more colourful. Light breeze made the maples to wave slightly. Usually I didn't like autumns - falls made me sad -, but this autumn was unusual. This autumn was different.

From behind the corner of the school's workshop appeared a young woman, holding the umbrella over her head, and made her steps towards the school-building. She was walking carefully, trying not to step into any puddles that were spreading here and there on the sidewalk. She gave me a short glance and for a moment there was a swift smile on her lips.

I put on my glasses, then pushed my hands deep into my pockets to cool down the shiver of excitement. She was getting closer and closer.

Setting one foot in front of the other gracefully, she stepped up on the stairs. After she leant her umbrella against the wall, she edged a few steps nearer and stopped, looking me into the eyes.

"Hello!"

For years I hadn't heard her voice, years I hadn't seen her. But I had been thinking about her a lot and even imagined our next meeting. And now it was happening and thank for a little help I had got from my younger brother, at least it seemed to have started the way I had hoped. Even the rain appeared to be a present from the gods.

She looked at me questioningly. She had changed. She seemed to be older, more mature, even more beautiful as I could recall.

And I remembered her well. She was my first and only true love; when I needed to understand her - only a short glance at her eyes was enough; she was my only soul-mate.

"Why did you call me?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "To see you, to talk." Years ago it was our main meeting place on these stairs.

She looked me suspiciously. "Why?..."

"We haven't seen each other for a long time. I was..." I hesitated for a moment. "Away. Most of the people I used to know, most of my friends have disappeared somewhere, or they do not notice me anymore. I guessed... I thought that at least with you I can speak again."

She was staring at me calmly. Somehow I compared that look with the one people use to look at the mentally unbalanced. "More than seven years has passed since we last saw each other. Even more time since we could talk normally. And now you're just reappearing from only god knows where, and you expect everything to continue."

"I hope."

"I have changed," she said quietly and lighted a cigarette.

"I know." One of my eyebrows has risen, seeing her smoking.

She shook her head. "No, you don't. I have changed, I have my own life you know nothing about, and where you can fit in no more."

"Why?" I was surprised. "That, that I... That I was away, doesn't mean that I have changed horribly. I haven't." We were staring at each other for long moments, without words. "I remained the same person I had been. The one I had been. The one you had trusted, the one you had loved."

She lowered her eyes. "Exactly. You are the same you were then, seven years ago. You have your own world," she answered after a little silence.

I smiled - I found hope in her words. "Yet you loved being there. You have told me this."

"True. But while you were gone, I stayed to live there. Time has gone by." Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "I am so, so desperately sorry - you can't even imagine, how much I am – but this same period of time has given you a chance to stay in your amazing, beautiful world. But these seven years have taken you away from our common world, seven years are between us now."

She took her umbrella and - without rising the cover against the rain - walked down the stairs. She went back on the same way she had approached, but she missed the puddles no more.

There was still rain in our worlds, still, small-dropped and cold autumn rain.

But that rain was so different for us...

It is necessary to understand everything?

2008-06-25T13:55:00.002+03:00

Because of some strange, incomprehensible state I got onto the top of the Eiffel Tower। To the top itself, to these red sparkling lamps.Paris spread in different directions, but I didn’t care! Paris or not - I was interested why all these police and ambulance cars are swarming down there. Some people - they seemed so small from here! - waved to me. I waved to them to answer.

From early childhood there has been a question tormenting me: if I jumped very strongly from the top of tower, would I be able to jump away from the base of the tower or I tumble against the iron body of tower before hitting the ground. The cars from the fire department joined the police and ambulance cars। They are fools: if a man planned seriously a jump from the tower to commit suicide, then the entire French army would not be sufficient for his rescue; but if he is not intended to complete that, only one person would be enough - the policeman, who would arrest the ‘jumper’ for the disturbance of law and order - therefore the present friendly assemblage below wasn’t anything else than the expenditure of the money of taxpayers।

Thank God - I didn’t belong any of the two groups mentioned above - I simply wanted to know how my leap would end and to find out there was only one possibility। I waved my hands and jumped.

For the last hundred of metres I was rolling uncontrollably against the skeleton of the tower। My clothes and face were covered with rust, when after I-do-not-know-how-many-somersaults arose to my feet. I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it with my cigarette lighter. “With the appropriate wind this would have been even more successful,” I said to the approaching policemen, doctors and another persons with important, but frightened faces. Then I hada glance at the cigarette in my hand. “This is the only ’sin’, which I still could not get rid of.” There was silence around me.

“Are you nuts?” cried one medic in a white tunic finally।

“No, I am not। Only a little bit curious. But now if you’ll excuse!” I said forcing my way through the crowd in the direction of my car. “I must go to change my clothes.”

Ignorance - the stronges weapon, which men can use। If you teach a man physics and he understands through the superhuman efforts why that apple fell on Newton’s head, then he will forever connect this in his way of thinking that things fall downwards. Nothing can reconvince him. And as confirmation of that - the spot on its coat - which was obtained from the random overflown bird. In the dazzling light of his firm knowledge, he does not note even this simple truth that he had never ever before been shitted on. “Once you already accepted the knowledge and thinking of main society, then you have to live by that,” I said to the policeman, who sat by the other side of the table.

They did not let me go and so I had to sit opposite the inspector with the dull expression on his face and I guessed he had such dull thinking as well। I had been trying to explain him for the last 5 hours the meaninglessness of accusing me with disturbance of order. I had died after the jump from the tower, they would have considered me as unhappy and lost spirit; however, if I had got injured after that, I would have been a super-happy person - born in a jacket of luck - in their eyes, and all nonsense like that.

But I was okey।

And now I became a criminal। There stood an empty chair next to the wall. “If I jumped from this chair, would I commit a crime?" The Inspector shaked his head non-understandingly. “Then tell me if you please - in what kind of damned law the altitude limit indicated, and where is it written that a leap from higher places than that limit would be punished by law?"

All is based on how questions are asked। For example - my day was definitely ruined. Not only the unsuccessful leap; I had to have a conversation with the narrow-minded official, who cannot understand with his best desires that the majority of his problems in life come from misunderstanding of simple facts.

They were forced to free me.

Descartes

2008-06-24T18:17:00.002+03:00

Man loved Woman. Actually he wasn't so sure in it as he tried to dissect that rationally, yet every time he was forced to be apart from Woman, he felt sharp biting in his soul. His Mind and Logic tried to convince him in absence of soul, but at the same time these two couln't explain him the origins of that real, physical pain he felt.

Man sat on his old, well-worn sofa and thought. Man thought often, that there were days when his discussions between his Ego, Logic and Mind went so hot, that time passing by passed as well these eight hours he should have been at work. Luckily Man had a good job: his work contained much thinking , too, and for his bosses were open-minded, Man was able to do his work-thinking later in home.

"I think, so I am," Man thought about Descartes. These words were on the wall in his cabinet, framed. Woman didn't like that. By her understanding Man was lost in his thoughts so often that it seemed to her she was living alone in their apartement. Woman had once hanged to wall a parafrase "You think, so You aren't... here." Man was angry then, because Woman's logic was strange.

"If I think, then I am, am I not?" he grumbled then. "I wouldn't be able of thinking, if I wasn't."

"Yes," Woman nodded, "but I can't feel that You are. While you think, I feel myself alone. Alone here, in this bed, in this room, in this house."

"But I am here. I think right beside you. Don't you feel that I am?" was Man amazed about Woman's stupidity.

"No!" said Woman, turned her back and fell asleep.

Man was thinking. He had a problem. Woman had told him in the morning that she is moving back to her mother's, because she wasn't strong enough to live alone. And again - Man didn't understand her and that's why he was thinking now. He couldn't catch, how it was possible to be and not to be at the same time. "That's impossible," Logic said. Man agreed.

"Maybe Woman thinks, you're not good enough for her," Ego offered. Man didn't agree with that. If it were so, Woman might have left long time ago, not now - after twenty-seveth year of living under the same roof. "Maybe she's a bit slowly?" whispered Ego, more likely to itself.

"No!" Man shouted. "She's a very good person, very good Woman. Yet she has always been talking that I am not."

"Have you considered possibility that she might have an authism?" Mind asked, scratching its head.

"Ehh... What is that?" Man asked.

"I do not know exactly, but I think I read from somewhere, that there are some people who does not distinguish well what happens around them, living like in their own world. They wish to make them understandable to others, yet they don't know that no one understands. Well - something like that," Mind told.

"I don't think so. I understand her well. Mostly. But sometimes she say that I am not. That she does not feel that I am."

They stared at each other for a long time, everyone tried to go into problem from their point of view. Only Ego blushed slightly - maybe was ashemed of his last remark. Once Mind shivered like it got the idea, then fell back to its position. There reigned the silence, full of heavy thoughts.

"Actually... She has never told that you aren't," Logic started carefully like being afraid of breaking the silence that had been around them more than half an hour.

"But she has," Man raised his eyebrows. Three pair of eyes were looking at Logic which made Logic wish to hide under the chair. At last it found itself.

"No, she has not. Womas has always told that she feels like you aren't."

"So?" Came the question from three mouths at once.

"She doesn't say that you are not. She says she feels like you are not."

"But I feel that I am," man laughed. Ego smiled as well, but Mind fell to its thoughts.

"No. You know that you are," Logic argued. "But can you feel that?"

Silence covered them once more. But just for a moment now. Everyone raised their heads, looked each other with shining eyes and they knew that something has changed.

Man jumped up and run to the words of Descartes. Using his waterproof pencil, he wrote new line there, went to the phone and dialed Woman's number. Fifteen minutes later, after he had finished his call, he smiled widely and looked to the board on the wall again.

"I think, so I am. Descartes
I feel, so I live. Man"

The last cigarette

2008-06-22T18:37:00.001+03:00

"Smoking damages your health!"

A text like that is on many packets of cigarettes. During last times they added some more extra notes, basic truths that we all know, yet ignoring them when lighting the next cigarette. It doesn’t hurt me - so usual apology from a person, who cleans his lungs by coughing every morning. I don’t know, maybe not everyone coughs - I do it half an hour every morning.

If there had been notes like ‘Smoking can kill’ on the packs when I started to smoke, maybe I would have considered quitting much earlier. But - apparently not - teaching passed me as easy as the water leaves goose’s back.

"It can," I would answer then with a grin on my face. "So can the bus, if you’re not careful." My carefulness was the volleyball I used to play then. For balancing - so to say.

"Yes, it kills," I say now. And I do not mean lung-diseases.

*
Cigarette in the corner of mouth, so usual it was. I didn’t dare to smoke publicly close to my home. Didn’t matter that the school was left behind long time ago, I still had a bad feeling, when some teachers saw me with a cigarette. Ok - mostly I didn’t give a damn what they thought even in classes, but there were few of them I respected. And somehow - all these respected teachers lived in my home village…But in the other corner of Estonia it was so nice to walk and smoke, imagining how cool I was. "Cigarette makes me an adult." Thinking now, that opinion gives me the sad grin only.

Strange that you didn’t share that opinion. Yet we were best friends since childhood and I could tell, that every crazy thing I tried or did, you did them, too. But why did you not keep on smoking?We did the very first cigarette together. There - in a potato-farm, when one of our classmates took out the pack of ‘Ekstra’ he had stolen from his father. We were hiding from teachers behind these muddy boxes and all the boys from our class did their first cigarettes. We sticked together then.

Change came the next morning, when we were driven to the farm again. Only a couple of boys didn’t have their own packages. Covering with their palms, everyone showed their treasures, secret smiles on their faces. None had ‘Ekstra’ anymore, all of us had had a trip to the local shoemaker store last night and the colours of fancy foreign cigarettes made us glad. ‘Marlboro’, ‘Camel’, ‘Salem’ - I was modestly equipped with my ‘L&M’. But among those, who had no cigarettes, were you as well.

"I didn’t like it. No, I didn’t feel sick. I just didn’t like it," you answered to my questions when we were already on the field. Why, damn you?

Two years passed by and cigarette has become part of my outfit. I smoked with pleasure.Sometimes you watched me with your teasing smile, but that didn’t bother me. You looked at me the same way when I did the next stupid move while playing chess, or when I had another unsuccessful go at a beautiful girl. You smiled a lot at those occasions.

I looked around if there are some beautiful girls around and - damn you! - you smiled again.

"You better stop hoping! I’ve been here for a couple of weeks every summer, to my grandma’s, and I would tell you if there were any girls with whom you could be successful," you said quietly. Not because you wanted to keep it secret - you always talked like that. Calmly and quietly. I was the one running around and making myself look stupid - I knew it better. I already nodded, then…

I saw a lot of very beautiful girls during the last half an hour.

"What do you want to say with that?"

You just laughed.

"Actually - the weather is nasty and none has a wish to talk. Look at their faces!" you told, when I was already over your last comment.

You were right. The sky was heavy with dark clouds and peoples’ attention didn’t seem to go further than the road under their feet. I tried smiling at them, but I only got one answer out of ten tries - even that didn’t count, that was only a questioning look in my direction. The others didn’t notice me at all. I inhaled the last puff from my cigarette and thrown its remains to recycle bin standing a bit away.

"Three points!" At least something good from my training.

"What, tomorrow back to army?" you asked after a while. I mumbled something. You took it as agreeing, because you already asked the next question. "You sorry you didn’t come to university, did you? You could be able to watch these beautiful girls every day, all the summer."

"You simply enjoy teasing me, don’t ya?"

"You can’t imagine," you smiled again.

I wanted to punch you, but you knew me too well and could jump away from me.The clouds high above us decided to explain their presence.

It started to pour warm summer rain. I tried to close my jacket automatically, but then I found that I had no jacket. I dropped my hands. Yet you - you didn’t believe the weather report last night and were just grinning under your big hood.

"You are lucky!"

"What!" There was a surprise on your face. "Is the soldier afraid of water?" I decided not to answer. Some houses later my sneakers were wet. "Gazebo. I just remembered that song," you said. I smiled - at least once you didn’t want to tease me. "I Like Chopin" was our favourite song for many years now.

"Yep! Let’s listen to it now and play a couple of fast games," I answered."Nah! Not fast - I’m tired of winning thanks for your stupidity. It’s the last time to learn you how to play!"

It can’t be! You could get rid of your sarcasm only for a few minutes. I sought for a cigarette before it’d got wet, but I found the empty package in my pocket only. I crushed it and thrown away. Rising my gaze, I saw a little shop across the street. You noticed it, too. Maybe you felt sorry looking at me.

"Wait! I’ll get you one," you said, already running.

Sound of crash. Thump. Glass. Scream from a passer-by.

You were lying metres away. You didn’t move - and rain poured to your face. I felt bad in my stomach and I sat by the road, leaning my head to my knees.

"I like Chopin." That was my first thought. Your favourite song. My favourite song. Ours. And the beginning of chorus.

"Rainy days never say good bye…"

You didn’t say good bye.

And on the sidewalk, the tears followed the rain …

Something from the past long ago

2007-09-21T15:36:00.001+03:00

7 years ago I first time tried to make a poem in English. Here is the result...

Slowly music, flashing lights,
People dancing everywhere.
Suddenly I fell in love
As I saw her standing there.

"May I ask?" She nodded me.
Those eyes then made me mad:
They´re little brown and little green
And little-bit too sad.

We talked a bit and then we danced,
She smiled often at that night.
She looked at me and so I glanced
Her eyes – no-ordinary bright.

But party was little, it ended soon.
We were standing in the bus
Full of people in the party-mood,
But there were none for two of us.

I felt her head resting on my breast,
Her golden hair I touched.
She looked perfect, she was best
And I liked her very much.

After that – I felt like dead
Or a fellow struck by flash.
Lovely smile on face she said:
"Fifty dollars pay in cash!"

She was Celia, Queen of Bitches,
Gorgeous – and I bought her.
And now she´s here and dress she stitches
Will for our second daughter.

Hello

2007-09-19T13:56:00.002+03:00

After using some other blogsites, I decided to start writing in English, too. I will have big head-aches with this one, I guess, but I survived much worse things in my pretty intruiging past. So - if I ever find some minutes to spare, I will add some text here. Anyone who thinks him/her capable to correct my mistakes, is welcomed to do that.
So long...