Doctor Zhivago

9

Winter came a long time ago. There were crackling frosts. Torn sounds and forms with no visible connection appeared in the frosty fog, stood, moved, disappeared. Not that sun, which are accustomed to on earth, and some other, substituted, hanging in a forest with a crimson ball. From him tight and slow, like in a dream, or in a fairy tale, the rays of thick, how honey, amber yellow, and on the road froze in the air and froze to the trees.
Barely touching the ground with a round foot and awakening with every step the fierce rattle of snow, invisible legs in felt boots moved in all directions, and the figures supplementing them in towels and short fur coats separately sailed through the air, like luminaries circling the celestial sphere.
Friends stopped, entered into conversation. They approached each other in a pleasantly reddened face with icy washcloths of beards and mustaches. Dense clubs, viscous vapor clouds bursting out of their mouths and were enormous in size with the mean, as if frostbitten, words of their uncomplicated speech.
Liverius encountered a doctor on the path.
- BUT, it is you? How many years, how many winters! In the evening I ask in my dugout. Spend the night with me. Shake the old days, let's talk. Have a message.
- Narochny returned? There is information about Varykin?
- About mine and yours in delivering no sound. But from here I just draw comforting conclusions. so, they saved on time.
And then there would be a mention of them. However, about everything at a meeting. so, I am waiting for you.
In the dugout, the doctor repeated his question.:
- Answer only, what do you know about our families?
- Again you do not want to look beyond your nose. Our, apparently, alive, in safety. But it’s not about them.
Great news. Do you want meat? Cold veal.
- No, thank. Do not scatter. Get to the point.
- In vain. I will shake. Tsinga in the camp. People forgot, what is bread, greenery. It was necessary to collect nuts and berries in the autumn more organized, while there were refugees. I say, our affairs are in excellent condition. Then, what i always predicted, accomplished. The ice has broken. Kolchak retreats on all fronts.
It is complete, spontaneous failure. You see? What i said? Did you whine.
- When did I whine?
- Constantly. Special, when our tesnil Vicin.
The doctor remembered last fall, execution of rebels, infanticide and murder of Palykh, bloody coloshmatina and manslaughter, which had no end in sight.
The savagery of white and red competed in cruelty, alternately increasing one in response to another, exactly they were multiplied. Blood sick, she approached the throat and rushed to the head, her eyes swam. It was not nagging at all, it was something completely different. But how was Liver to explain it?
The dugout smelled of fragrant fumes. He sat on the palate, tickled in nose and throat. The dugout was illuminated thinly in a leaf by splintered arches in a tripod iron taganza. When one burned out, a charred tip fell into a substituted basin of water, and Liverius stuck in a new ring, lit.
- View the, what burn. Oil out. The log was overdried. A torch dies quickly. Yes, scurvy in the camp. You categorically refuse veal? Scurvy. What are you watching, доктор?
No one, to gather headquarters, light up the situation, read a lecture to management on tsynga and measures to combat it.
"Don't bother.", for God's sake. What do you know exactly about our loved ones?
- I already told you, that there is no exact information about them.
But I didn’t agree on that, what do I know from the latest general war reports. Civil war is over. Kolchak is broken on his head.
The Red Army drives him east along the railway, to dump into the sea. Another part of the Red Army is in a hurry to join us, to work together to destroy his many, everywhere scattered rear. The south of Russia is cleared. Why are you not happy? This is not enough for you?
- Not true. I rejoice. But where are our families?
- In Varykin they are not, and this is a great happiness. Although the summer legends of Kamennodvorsky, as I expected, not confirmed, - Remember these stupid rumors about the invasion of some mysterious people in Varykino? - but the village was completely empty. There, apparently, something was still, and very good, that both families got out of there in advance. we will believe, that they are saved. These are, according to my intelligence, the assumptions of the few remaining.
- And Yuryatin? What's that? In whose hands?
- Also something incongruous. Doubtless mistake.
- Namely?
- As if it were still white. This is absolute absurdity, apparent impossibility. Now I will prove it to you with obviousness.
Liverius inserted a new torch into the starlight and, folding the crumpled shagged two-page with the necessary divisions out, and turning the extra edges inward, began to explain on the map with a pencil in his hand.
- watch. In all these areas, whites are thrown back.
Right here, here and here all around. You watch carefully?
- Yes.
- They cannot be in the Yuryatinsky direction. Otherwise, with cut communications, they inevitably fall into the bag.
This can not understand their generals, no matter how mediocre. You put on a fur coat? Where are you going?
- Sorry, i for a minute. I'll be back now. Here shabby shag and torch burnt. I do not feel good. I'll catch my breath in the air.
Climbing out of the dugout, doctor dared mitt snow with a thick deck, laid along for sitting at the exit. He sat on her, bent down and, propping his head with both hands, thought.
Winter taiga, forest camp, eighteen months, carried out by partisans, as it never happened. He forgot about them. In his imagination stood alone close. He speculated about them one more terrible.
Here Tonya is walking in a field in a blizzard with Shurochka in her arms. She wraps him in a blanket, her legs fall into the snow, she pulls them out through force, and the blizzard brings her, the wind brings it down, she falls and rises, powerless to resist the weakened, buckling legs. ABOUT, but he forgets all the time, forgets. She has two children, and she feeds less.
Both hands are busy, like a refugee in Chilimka, from grief and exceeded their strength of tension of the lost mind.
Both her hands are busy and no one around, who could help.
Shurochkin dad. He is far away, always far away, all my life away from them, yes and is it dad, are real dads like that? And where is her own dad? Where is Alexander Alexandrovich? Where is nyusha? Where are the others? ABOUT, it’s better not to ask yourself these questions, better not to think, better not to delve into.
The doctor rose from the deck with the intention of going back to the dugout. Suddenly his thoughts took a new direction. He changed his mind going back to Liveria.
Skiing, a bag of breadcrumbs and everything he needed to escape had long been stocked with him. He buried these things in the snow behind the guard line of the camp., under a large fir, which for fidelity I also noted with a special notch. There, he walked along the pedestrian stitch beaten among the snowdrifts. It was a clear night. Luminaries full moon. The doctor knew, where the guards were deployed for the night and successfully passed them. But at a glade with an icy mountain ash, he called out from afar and, standing right on heavily dispersed skis, slipped up to him.
- Wait! I will shoot! Who it? Speak order.
- What are you, братец, gone crazy? Own. Al did not recognize? Your doctor Zhivago.
- To blame! Don't worry, comrade Zhelvak. Did not recognize. And Hosha and the Turtle, they did not give up. Everything must follow the rule.
- Well, please. Password Red Siberia, recall with the interventionists.
- This is a different conversation.. Go wherever you want. What shaitan you roam for? Sick?
- Can’t sleep and thirst overcome. I thought, I will walk, swallow snow. I saw rowan berries in ice cream, I want to go, chew.
- Here she is, bullshit, berry winter. We have been beating for three years, we beat, you will not knock out. No consciousness. Go on your rowan, abnormal. Al I'm sorry?
And accelerating faster and faster, sentinel with a strongly taken run, standing off to the side on long whistling skis, and began to leave the whole snow farther and farther for the skinny, like thinned hair, bare winter bushes. A path, the doctor was walking, led him to the mountain ash just mentioned.
She was half in the snow, half frozen leaves and berries, and extended two snow-covered branches forward towards him. He remembered Lara's big white hands, round, generous and, clutching the branches, pulled the tree to him. As if in a conscious reciprocal movement, a mountain ash showered him from head to toe with snow. He muttered, Not understanding, that he speaks without remembering himself:
- I'll see you, my beauty is written, my princess mountain ash, native blood.
The night was clear. The moon. He made his way further into the taiga to the treasured fir., dug up his things and left the camp.

All poetry (content alphabetically)