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A VISIONARY[31]

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One evening a young man came to my house and started talking about the creation of the earth and heaven and many other things. He had written many poems and painted many mystical drawings. But lately he hadn’t written or painted anything. He feared that the emotional life of the artist was bad for him. However, he willingly recited[32] his poems. Suddenly it seemed to me that he was looking around a little nervously.

“Do you see anything, X–?” I said. “A shining woman, covered by her long hair, is standing near the doorway,” he answered. “Is it some living person who thinks of us?” I said; “No,” he replied; “If it was alive I would feel that. It is a spirit. It is someone who is dead or who has never lived.”

I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he worked as a clerk in a big store. However, he enjoyed walking around the hills and talking to eccentric farmers. He would also make strange and guilt-ridden[33] people to share their problems with him. Another night, when I was at his place, more than one person came to discuss their beliefs and doubts. Sometimes he had visions[34] while talking to them. He has accurately[35] told several people about their past and distant friends, leaving them silent. Even though he was young, he’s much more clever than the oldest people around.

The poetry he recited to me was full of his nature and his visions. Sometimes it was about past lives that he had lived, and sometimes about people from those lives. I told him I wanted to write an article about him and his poetry, and he said that I could do so, but he asked me not to mention his name. He wished to stay “unknown.” The next day, he sent me a collection of his poems along with a note that said: “Here are copies of the verses you liked. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write or paint anymore. I’m preparing myself for a new life.”

I remember one person in particular. A winter or two ago, he spent much of the night walking up and down the mountain, talking to an old peasant. Both of them were unhappy: X– because he had realized that art and poetry weren’t for him, and the old peasant because his life was ending without any achievements or hope left. Both of them were so Celtic! They were always striving[36] for something that couldn’t be fully expressed in words or actions. The peasant was lost in his mind with sadness. Once he exclaimed, “God owns the heavens, but He wants the world”; and once he complained that his old neighbors were gone and everyone had forgotten about him. They used to bring a chair for him by the fire in every cabin, but now they asked, “Who is that old man over there?” He said, “I feel doomed[37],” and then continued talking about God and heaven. He also said more than once, pointing his arm towards the mountain, “Only I know what happened under the thorn-tree[38] forty years ago,” and as he said it, tears sparkled on his face in the moonlight.

32

to recite – декламировать, читать

33

guilt-ridden – охваченный чувством вины

34

visions – видения

35

accurately – точно, безошибочно

36

to strive – стараться, устремляться, бороться

37

doomed – обреченный

38

thorn-tree – терновое дерево

Кельтские сумерки. Уровень 1 / The Celtic Twilight

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