Konstantin Gelrgievich Paustovsky

"The Tale of Life"

One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park and reading Stevenson's Treasure Island. Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky was shining above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

A girl with bows in her hair stopped in front of us and began jumping over the rope. She stopped me from reading. I shook the lilac. A little rain fell noisily on the girl and Galya. The girl stuck her tongue out at me and ran away, and Galya shook the raindrops off the book and continued reading.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

A tall midshipman with a tanned, calm face walked easily along the alley. A straight black broadsword hung from his lacquered belt. Black ribbons with bronze anchors fluttered in the quiet wind. He was all in black. Only the bright gold of the stripes set off his strict form.

In land Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, it was an alien from distant legendary world winged ships, the frigate "Pallada", from the world of all oceans, seas, all port cities, all winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers. An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

My whole dream of the sea came true in this man. I often imagined seas, foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world changed, like a fast kaleidoscope, behind the porthole windows. My God, if only someone had thought to give me at least a piece of fossilized rust, broken from an old anchor! I would treasure it like a jewel.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

I followed him along Elizavetinskaya Street, then along Institutskaya and Nikolaevskaya. The midshipman saluted the infantry officers gracefully and casually. I was ashamed in front of him for these baggy Kyiv warriors.

The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.

“Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why were you in tow behind me?”

I blushed and didn't answer.

“Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, for some reason speaking about me in the third person.

- Let's get to Khreshchatyk.

We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine.

On Khreshchatyk, the midshipman came with me to the Semadeni coffee shop, ordered two servings of pistachio ice cream and two glasses of water. We were served ice cream on a small three-legged marble table. It was very cold and covered with numbers: stockbrokers gathered at Semadeni’s and counted their profits and losses on tables.

We ate the ice cream in silence. The midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sail rig and a wide funnel and handed it to me.

- Take it as a souvenir. This is my ship. I rode it to Liverpool.

He shook my hand firmly and left. I sat there a little longer until my sweaty neighbors in boaters started looking back at me. Then I awkwardly left and ran to the Mariinsky Park. The bench was empty. Galya left. I guessed that the midshipman pitied me, and for the first time I learned that pity leaves a bitter aftertaste in the soul.

After this meeting, the desire to become a sailor tormented me for many years. I was eager to go to the sea. The first time I saw him briefly was in Novorossiysk, where I went for a few days with my father. But this was not enough.

For hours I sat over the atlas, examined the coasts of the oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths.

I figured it out challenging game. I have compiled a long list of ships from sonorous names: « polar Star", "Walter Scott", "Khingan", "Sirius". This list swelled every day. I was the owner of the largest fleet in the world.

Of course, I was sitting in my shipping office, in the smoke of cigars, among colorful posters and schedules. Wide windows overlooked, naturally, the embankment. The yellow masts of steamships stuck out right next to the windows, and good-natured elms rustled behind the walls. Steamboat smoke flew cheekily into the windows, mingling with the smell of rotten brine and new, cheerful matting.

I have come up with a list of amazing voyages for my ships. There was not the most forgotten corner of the earth where they did not go. They even visited the island of Tristan da Cunha.

I removed ships from one voyage and sent them to another. I followed the voyages of my ships and unmistakably knew where the Admiral Istomin was today and where the Flying Dutchman was: the Istomin loaded bananas in Singapore, and the Flying Dutchman unloaded flour in the Faroe Islands.

In order to manage such a vast shipping enterprise, I needed a lot of knowledge. I read guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that had even a remote connection to the sea.

That was the first time I heard the word “meningitis” from my mother.

“He’ll get to God knows what with his games,” my mother once said. - As if all this would not end in meningitis.

I have heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who learn to read too early. So I just grinned at my mother’s fears.

It all ended with the parents deciding to go with the whole family to the sea for the summer.

Now I guess that my mother hoped to cure me with this trip from my excessive passion for the sea. She thought that I would be, as always happens, disappointed by a direct confrontation with what I so passionately strived for in my dreams. And she was right, but only partly.

One day my mother solemnly announced that the other day we were going to the Black Sea for the whole summer, to the small town of Gelendzhik, near Novorossiysk.

It was probably impossible to choose best place, than Gelendzhik, in order to disappoint me in my passion for the sea and the south.

Gelendzhik was then a very dusty and hot town without any vegetation. All the greenery for many kilometers around was destroyed by the cruel Novorossiysk winds - the Nord-East. Only thorny bushes and stunted acacia trees with yellow dry flowers grew in the front gardens. From high mountains it was hot. At the end of the bay a cement plant was smoking.

But Gelendzhik Bay was very good. In its clear and warm water, large jellyfish floated like pink and blue flowers. Spotted flounders and bug-eyed gobies lay on the sandy bottom. The surf threw red algae onto the shore, rotten floats from fishing nets and pieces of dark green bottles rolled in by the waves.

The sea after Gelendzhik has not lost its charm for me. It only became simpler and thus more beautiful than in my elegant dreams.

In Gelendzhik I became friends with an elderly boatman Anastas. He was Greek, originally from the city of Volo. He had a new sailing boat, white with a red keel and grating washed to gray.

Anastas took summer residents on a boat ride. He was famous for his dexterity and composure, and my mother sometimes let me go alone with Anastas.

One day Anastas walked out with me from the bay into the open sea. I will never forget the horror and delight I felt when the sail, inflated, tilted the boat so low that the water rushed at the level of the side. Noisy huge waves rolled towards them, shining through with greenery and dousing the face with salty dust.

I grabbed the shrouds, I wanted to go back to the shore, but Anastas, holding the pipe between his teeth, purred something, and then asked:

- How much did your mother give for these dudes? Ay, good dudes!

He nodded at my soft Caucasian shoes - dudes. My legs were shaking. I didn't answer. Anastas yawned and said:

- Nothing! Small shower, warm shower. You will dine with gusto. You won’t have to ask - eat for mom and dad!

He turned the boat casually and confidently. She scooped up the water, and we rushed into the bay, diving and jumping out onto the crests of the waves. They left from under the stern with a menacing noise. My heart sank and sank.

Suddenly Anastas began to sing. I stopped shaking and listened to this song in bewilderment:

From Batum to Sukhum - Ai-vai-vai!

From Sukhum to Batum - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy was running, dragging a box - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy fell and broke a box - Ai-vai-vai!

To this song we lowered the sail and quickly approached the pier, where the pale mother was waiting. Anastas picked me up, put me on the pier and said:

- Now you have it salty, madam. Already has a habit of the sea.

One day my father hired a ruler, and we drove from Gelendzhik to the Mikhailovsky Pass.

At first, the gravel road ran along the slope of bare and dusty mountains. We crossed bridges over ravines where there was not a drop of water. The same clouds of dry gray cotton wool lay on the mountains all day, clinging to the peaks.

I was thirsty. The red-haired Cossack cab driver turned around and told me to wait until the pass - there I would get a tasty drink and cold water. But I didn’t believe the cab driver. The dryness of the mountains and the lack of water frightened me. I looked longingly at the dark and fresh strip of sea. It was impossible to drink from it, but at least you could bathe in its cool water.

The road rose higher and higher. Suddenly a breath of freshness hit our faces.

- The very pass! - said the cabman, stopped the horses, got off and put iron brakes under the wheels.

From the ridge of the mountain we saw huge and dense forests. They stretched in waves across the mountains to the horizon. Here and there red granite cliffs jutted out of the greenery, and in the distance I saw a peak ablaze with ice and snow.

“Nord-Ost doesn’t reach here,” said the cabman. - This is paradise!

The line began to descend. Immediately a thick shadow covered us. In the impassable thicket of trees we heard the murmur of water, the whistle of birds and the rustle of leaves agitated by the midday wind.

The lower we descended, the thicker the forest became and the shady the road. A clear stream was already running along its side. It washed through multi-colored stones, touched purple flowers with its stream and made them bow and tremble, but could not tear them away from the rocky ground and carry them down into the gorge.

Mom took water from the stream into a mug and gave it to me to drink. The water was so cold that the mug immediately became covered with sweat.

“It smells like ozone,” said the father.

I took a deep breath. I didn’t know what it smelled like around me, but it seemed to me that I was covered in a heap of branches soaked in fragrant rain.

The vines clung to our heads. And here and there, on the slopes of the road, some shaggy flower poked out from under a stone and looked with curiosity at our line and at the gray horses, raising their heads and performing solemnly, as if in a parade, so as not to gallop off and roll out the line.

- There's a lizard! - said mom. Where?

- Over there. Do you see the hazel tree? And to the left is a red stone in the grass. See above. Do you see the yellow corolla? This is an azalea. A little to the right of the azalea, on a fallen beech tree, near the very root. Look, you see, such a shaggy red root in dry soil and some tiny blue colors? So here it is next to him.

I saw a lizard. But while I found it, I had a wonderful journey through hazel, redstone, azalea flower and fallen beech.

“So this is what it is, the Caucasus!” - I thought.

- This is paradise! - the cab driver repeated, turning off the highway into a narrow grassy clearing in the forest. “Now let’s unharness the horses and go swimming.”

We drove into such a thicket and the branches hit us in the face so much that we had to stop the horses, get off the line and continue on foot. The line moved slowly behind us.

We came out into a clearing in a green gorge. Crowds of tall dandelions stood in the lush grass like white islands. Under the thick beech trees we saw an old empty barn. He stood on the bank of a noisy mountain river. She poured tightly over the stones clear water, hissed and carried away many air bubbles along with the water.

While the driver unharnessed and went with father to get firewood for the fire, we washed ourselves in the river. Our faces burned with heat after washing.

We wanted to immediately go up the river, but mother spread a tablecloth on the grass, took out provisions and said that until we had eaten, she would not let us go anywhere.

Gagging, I ate ham sandwiches and cold rice porridge with raisins, but it turned out that I was in a completely unnecessary hurry - the stubborn copper kettle did not want to boil on the fire. It must have been because the water from the river was completely icy.

Then the kettle boiled so unexpectedly and violently that it flooded the fire. We drank strong tea and began to hurry father to go into the forest. The driver said that we had to be on our guard, because there were a lot of people in the forest. wild boars. He explained to us that if we see small holes dug in the ground, then these are the places where wild boars sleep at night.

Mom was worried - she couldn’t walk with us, she had shortness of breath - but the driver calmed her down, noting that the boar needed to be deliberately teased so that it would rush at the person.

We went up the river. We made our way through the thicket, stopping every minute and calling each other to show granite pools carved out by the river - trout flashed through them with blue sparks - huge green beetles with long mustache, foamy, grumbling waterfalls, horsetails taller than we are, thickets of forest anemone and clearings with peonies.

Borya came across a small dusty pit that looked like a child's bath. We walked around it carefully. Apparently this was a wild boar's roosting area.

The father went ahead. He started calling us. We made our way to it through the buckthorn, avoiding huge mossy boulders.

Father stood near a strange structure overgrown with blackberries. Four smoothly hewn gigantic stones were covered, like a roof, by a fifth hewn stone. It turned out to be a stone house. There was a hole punched in one of the side stones, but it was so small that even I couldn’t get through it. There were several such stone buildings around.

“These are dolmens,” said the father. — Ancient burial grounds of the Scythians. Or maybe these are not burial grounds at all. Until now, scientists cannot find out who, why and how built these dolmens.

I was sure that dolmens were the dwellings of long-extinct dwarf people. But I didn’t tell my father about this, since Borya was with us: he would have made me laugh.

We returned to Gelendzhik completely burned by the sun, drunk from fatigue and the forest air. I fell asleep and through my sleep I felt the heat blowing over me and heard the distant murmur of the sea.

Since then, in my imagination, I have become the owner of another magnificent country - the Caucasus. A passion for Lermontov, abreks, and Shamil began. Mom was worried again.

Now, in adulthood, I remember with gratitude my childhood hobbies. They taught me a lot.

But I was not at all like the noisy and enthusiastic boys choking with saliva from excitement, giving no rest to anyone. On the contrary, I was very shy and did not pester anyone with my hobbies.

I sat in Mariinsky Park and calmly read Stevenson's Treasure Island. In the morning there was a sad rain, but the clear sky of spring shone. Large and belated drops of rain fell from the lilac tree. I shook the lilac and a little rain fell. At that moment I saw a man who poisoned even me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

A tall young sailor with a tanned and calm face walked along the road. A straight black broadsword hung from his lacquered belt. Black ribbons with bronze anchors fluttered in the quiet wind. The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I followed him. I often imagined seas, foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world replaced the windows of the porthole. The midshipman looked around. “Azimuth” was written on the black ribbon of the cap. I sat for hours over atlases, looked at the ocean coasts for a long time, looked for coastal capes and river mouths.

One day my parents and I went to the Black Sea for the whole summer. The town where we arrived was small and located near Novorossiysk. The town was very dusty and hot, and all the greenery was destroyed by the winds. Thorny bushes and stunted acacia with yellow dry flowers grew in the front gardens. It was hot from the high mountains. At the end of the bay a cement plant was smoking. It was nice on the bay. In transparent and warm water Large jellyfish swam, and spotted flounders and goggle-eyed gobies lay on the sandy bottom. The surf threw red algae onto the shore, as well as broken pieces of bottles.

In Gelendzhik I became friends with a boatman who was Greek and originally from the Volom mountains. He had a white sailing boat with a red calm and a washed flooring up to the middle. He took summer residents on rides in his boat, becoming so famous for his dexterity that my mother let me go out to the open sea with him.

We also went to Mikhailovsky Pass. The road of rubble ran along the side of bare mountains, and we passed bridges over ravines where there was no water and we were thirsty. From the ridge of the mountain, one could see huge and dense forests that stretched in waves across the mountains to the horizon. The murmur of water, the whistle of birds and the rustle of grass, agitated by the midday wind, were heard in the thicket. The forest began to thicken, and a stream ran along the side of the road, washing away the pebbles. After drinking water from the stream, we moved on.

We entered the clearing. Crowds of tall dandelions stood in the tall grass, and under the beech trees we saw an empty barn that stood on the bank of a noisy river, where it hissed and pulled clear water with many bubbles. We washed ourselves in the river, and our faces immediately lit up with heat. We made the pass. Mom got the food. After refreshing ourselves and drinking hot tea, we began to hurry my father to go into the forest. Our path ran up the river. Stopping often, they called each other to show the granite pools carved out by the river, in which sparkling trout flashed.

Father stood near a strange stone structure overgrown with grass. A hole has been punched in one of the side stones. There were some buildings around. My father said that these were ancient burial grounds of the Scythians.

Tale of life

One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park reading Stevenson's Treasure Island. Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky was shining above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

A girl with bows in her hair stopped in front of us and began jumping over the rope.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

In land-based Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, he was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate "Pallada", from the world of all the oceans, seas, all port cities, all the winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers . An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

My whole dream is about mo....

One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park and reading “Treasure Island” by Stevenson. Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky was shining above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

In land-based Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, this was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate “Pallada”, from the world of all the oceans, seas, all port cities, all the winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers . An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

My whole dream of the sea came true in this man. I often imagined seas, foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world changed, like a quick kaleidoscope, behind the porthole windows. My God, if only someone had thought to give me at least a piece of fossilized rust, broken from an old anchor! I would treasure it like a jewel.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.

“Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why were you in tow behind me?”

I blushed and didn't answer.

“Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, for some reason speaking about me in the third person.

- Let's get to Khreshchatyk.

We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine.

We ate the ice cream in silence. The midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sail rig and a wide funnel and handed it to me.

- Take it as a souvenir. This is my ship. I rode it to Liverpool.

For hours I sat over the atlas, examined the coasts of the oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths.

I came up with a complex game. I compiled a long list of ships with sonorous names: “Polar Star”, “Walter Scott”, “Khingan”, “Sirius”. This list swelled every day. I was the owner of the largest fleet in the world.

I have come up with a list of amazing voyages for my ships. There was not the most forgotten corner of the earth where they did not go. They even visited the island of Tristan da Cunha.

In order to manage such a vast shipping enterprise, I needed a lot of knowledge. I read guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that had even a remote connection to the sea.

That was the first time I heard the word “meningitis” from my mother.

“He’ll get to God knows what with his games,” my mother once said. - As if all this would not end in meningitis.

I have heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who learn to read too early. So I just grinned at my mother’s fears.

It all ended with the parents deciding to go with the whole family to the sea for the summer.

One day my mother solemnly announced that the other day we were going to the Black Sea for the whole summer, to the small town of Gelendzhik, near Novorossiysk.

It was perhaps impossible to choose a better place than Gelendzhik to disappoint me in my passion for the sea and the south.

Gelendzhik was then a very dusty and hot town without any vegetation. All the greenery for many kilometers around was destroyed by the cruel Novorossiysk winds - the Nord-Ost. Only thorny bushes and stunted acacia trees with yellow dry flowers grew in the front gardens. It was hot from the high mountains. At the end of the bay a cement plant was smoking.

The sea after Gelendzhik has not lost its charm for me. It only became simpler and thus more beautiful than in my elegant dreams.

In Gelendzhik I became friends with an elderly boatman Anastas. He was Greek, originally from the city of Volo. He had a new sailing boat, white with a red keel and grating washed to gray.

Anastas took summer residents on a boat ride. He was famous for his dexterity and composure, and my mother sometimes let me go alone with Anastas.

One day Anastas walked out with me from the bay into the open sea. I will never forget the horror and delight I felt when the sail, inflated, tilted the boat so low that the water rushed at the level of the side. Noisy huge waves rolled towards me, shining through with greenery and dousing my face with salty dust.

I grabbed the shrouds, I wanted to go back to the shore, but Anastas, holding the pipe between his teeth, purred something, and then asked:

– How much did your mother pay for these dudes? Ay, good dudes!

He nodded at my soft Caucasian shoes - dudes. My legs were shaking. I didn't answer. Anastas yawned and said:

- Nothing! Small shower, warm shower. You will dine with gusto. You won’t have to ask - eat for mom and dad!

Suddenly Anastas began to sing. I stopped shaking and listened to this song in bewilderment:

From Batum to Sukhum - Ai-vai-vai!

From Sukhum to Batum - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy was running, dragging a box - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy fell and broke a box - Ai-vai-vai!

To this song we lowered the sail and quickly approached the pier, where the pale mother was waiting. Anastas picked me up, put me on the pier and said:

- Now you have it salty, madam. Already has a habit of the sea.

One day my father hired a ruler, and we drove from Gelendzhik to the Mikhailovsky Pass.

I was thirsty. The red-haired Cossack cab driver turned around and told me to wait until the pass - there I would drink tasty and cold water. But I didn’t believe the cab driver. The dryness of the mountains and the lack of water frightened me. I looked longingly at the dark and fresh strip of sea. It was impossible to drink from it, but at least you could bathe in its cool water.

The road rose higher and higher. Suddenly a breath of freshness hit our faces.

- The very pass! - said the cabman, stopped the horses, got off and put iron brakes under the wheels.

“Nord-Ost doesn’t reach here,” said the cabman. - This is paradise!

Mom took water from the stream into a mug and gave it to me to drink. The water was so cold that the mug immediately became covered with sweat.

“It smells like ozone,” said the father.

I took a deep breath. I didn’t know what the smell was around me, but it seemed like I was covered in a heap of branches soaked in fragrant rain.

- There's a lizard! - Mom said. Where?

- Over there. Do you see the hazel tree? And to the left is a red stone in the grass. See above. Do you see the yellow corolla? This is an azalea. A little to the right of the azalea, on a fallen beech tree, near the very root. Look, do you see such a shaggy red root in dry soil and some tiny blue flowers? So here it is next to him.

I saw a lizard. But while I found it, I had a wonderful journey through hazel, redstone, azalea flower and fallen beech.

“So this is what it is, the Caucasus!” – I thought.

- This is paradise! - the cab driver repeated, turning off the highway into a narrow grassy clearing in the forest. “Now we’ll unharness the horses and go swimming.”

We drove into such a thicket and the branches hit us in the face so much that we had to stop the horses, get off the line and continue on foot. The line moved slowly behind us.

We came out into a clearing in a green gorge. Crowds of tall dandelions stood in the lush grass like white islands. Under the thick beech trees we saw an old empty barn. He stood on the bank of a noisy mountain river. It tightly poured clear water over the stones, hissed and dragged away many air bubbles along with the water.

While the driver unharnessed and went with father to get firewood for the fire, we washed ourselves in the river. Our faces burned with heat after washing.

We wanted to immediately go up the river, but mother spread a tablecloth on the grass, took out provisions and said that until we had eaten, she would not let us go anywhere.

Then the kettle boiled so unexpectedly and violently that it flooded the fire. We drank strong tea and began to hurry father to go into the forest. The driver said that we had to be careful because there were a lot of wild boars in the forest. He explained to us that if we see small holes dug in the ground, then these are the places where wild boars sleep at night.

Mom was worried - she couldn’t walk with us, she had shortness of breath - but the driver calmed her down, noting that the boar needed to be deliberately teased so that it would rush at the person.

We went up the river. We made our way through the thicket, constantly stopping and calling each other to show granite pools carved out by the river - trout flashed through them with blue sparks - huge green beetles with long mustaches, foamy grumbling waterfalls, horsetails taller than we were tall, thickets of forest anemones and clearings with peonies.

Borya came across a small dusty pit that looked like a child's bath. We walked around it carefully. Apparently this was a wild boar's roosting area.

The father went ahead. He started calling us. We made our way to it through the buckthorn, avoiding huge mossy boulders.

“These are dolmens,” said the father. – Ancient burial grounds of the Scythians. Or maybe these are not burial grounds at all. Until now, scientists cannot find out who, why and how built these dolmens.

I was sure that dolmens were the dwellings of long-extinct dwarf people. But I didn’t tell my father about this, since Borya was with us: he would have made me laugh.

Since then, in my imagination, I have become the owner of another magnificent country - the Caucasus. A passion for Lermontov, abreks, and Shamil began. Mom was worried again.

Now, in adulthood, I remember with gratitude my childhood hobbies. They taught me a lot.

But I was not at all like the noisy and enthusiastic boys choking with saliva from excitement, giving no rest to anyone. On the contrary, I was very shy and did not pester anyone with my hobbies.

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One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park reading \\"Treasure Island\\" by Stevenson. Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky was shining above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

In land Kyiv, where we almost never saw sailors, it was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate "Pallada", from the world of all oceans, seas, all port cities, all winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque labor of sailors. An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read a mysterious word: \\"Azimuth\\". Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.

Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why were you in tow behind me?”

I blushed and didn't answer.

“Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, speaking for some reason about me in the third person.

Let's get to Khreshchatyk.

We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine.

On Khreshchatyk, the midshipman came with me to the Semadeni coffee shop, ordered two servings of pistachio ice cream and two glasses of water.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky was shining above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

In land-based Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, this was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate "Pallada", from the world of all the oceans, seas, all port cities, all the winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers . An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.

Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why were you in tow behind me?”

I blushed and didn't answer.

“Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, speaking for some reason about me in the third person.

Let's get to Khreshchatyk.

We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine.

We ate the ice cream in silence. The midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sail rig and a wide funnel and handed it to me.

Take it as a souvenir. This is my ship. I rode it to Liverpool.

For hours I sat over the atlas, examined the coasts of the oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths.

I have come up with a list of amazing voyages for my ships. There was not the most forgotten corner of the earth where they did not go. They even visited the island of Tristan da Cunha.

In order to manage such a vast shipping enterprise, I needed a lot of knowledge. I read guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that had even a remote connection to the sea.

That was the first time I heard the word “meningitis” from my mother.

“God knows what he’ll get to with his games,” my mother once said. - As if all this would not end in meningitis.

I've heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who learn to read too early. So I just grinned at my mother’s fears.

It all ended with the parents deciding to go with the whole family to the sea for the summer.

One day my mother solemnly announced that the other day we were going to the Black Sea for the whole summer, to the small town of Gelendzhik, near Novorossiysk.

It was perhaps impossible to choose a better place than Gelendzhik to disappoint me in my passion for the sea and the south.

Gelendzhik was then a very dusty and hot town without any vegetation. All the greenery for many kilometers around was destroyed by the cruel Novorossiysk winds - the Nord-East. Only thorny bushes and stunted acacia trees with yellow dry flowers grew in the front gardens. It was hot from the high mountains. At the end of the bay a cement plant was smoking.

The sea after Gelendzhik has not lost its charm for me. It only became simpler and thus more beautiful than in my elegant dreams.

In Gelendzhik I became friends with an elderly boatman Anastas. He was Greek, originally from the city of Volo. He had a new sailing boat, white with a red keel and grating washed to gray.

Anastas took summer residents on a boat ride. He was famous for his dexterity and composure, and my mother sometimes let me go alone with Anastas.

;showering your face with salty dust.

I grabbed the shrouds, I wanted to go back to the shore, but Anastas, holding the pipe between his teeth, purred something, and then asked:

What did your mom pay for these dudes? Ay, good dudes!

He nodded at my soft Caucasian shoes - dudes. My legs were shaking. I didn't answer. Anastas yawned and said:

Nothing! Small shower, warm shower. You will dine with gusto. You won’t have to ask - eat for mom and dad!

Suddenly Anastas began to sing. I stopped shaking and listened to this song in bewilderment:

From Batum to Sukhum - Ai-vai-vai!

From Sukhum to Batum - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy was running, dragging a box - Ai-vai-vai!

A boy fell and broke a box - Ai-vai-vai!

To this song we lowered the sail and quickly approached the pier, where the pale mother was waiting. Anastas picked me up, put me on the pier and said:

Now you have it salty, madam. Already has a habit of the sea.

One day my father hired a ruler, and we drove from Gelendzhik to the Mikhailovsky Pass.

The road rose higher and higher. Suddenly a breath of freshness hit our faces.

The very pass! - said the cabman, stopped the horses, got off and put iron brakes under the wheels.

“Nord-Ost doesn’t reach here,” said the cabman. - This is paradise!

Mom took water from the stream into a mug and gave it to me to drink. The water was so cold that the mug immediately became covered with sweat.

“It smells like ozone,” the father said.

I took a deep breath. I didn’t know what the smell was around me, but it seemed like I was covered in a heap of branches soaked in fragrant rain.

There's a lizard! - Mom said. Where?

Over there. Do you see the hazel tree? And to the left is a red stone in the grass. See above. Do you see the yellow corolla? This is an azalea. A little to the right of the azalea, on a fallen beech tree, near the very root. Look, do you see such a shaggy red root in dry soil and some tiny blue flowers? So here it is next to him.

I saw a lizard. But while I found it, I had a wonderful journey through hazel, redstone, azalea flower and fallen beech.

“So this is what it is, the Caucasus!” - I thought.

This is paradise! - the cab driver repeated, turning off the highway into a narrow grassy clearing in the forest. - Now let’s unharness the horses and go swimming.

We drove into such a thicket and the branches hit us in the face so much that we had to stop the horses, get off the line and continue on foot. The line moved slowly behind us.

We came out into a clearing in a green gorge. Crowds of tall dandelions stood in the lush grass like white islands. Under the thick beech trees we saw an old empty barn. He stood on the bank of a noisy mountain river. It tightly poured clear water over the stones, hissed and dragged away many air bubbles along with the water.

While the driver unharnessed and went with father to get firewood for the fire, we washed ourselves in the river. Our faces burned with heat after washing.

We wanted to immediately go up the river, but mother spread a tablecloth on the grass, took out provisions and said that until we had eaten, she would not let us go anywhere.

Mom was worried - she couldn’t walk with us, she had shortness of breath - but the driver calmed her down, noting that the boar needed to be deliberately teased so that it would rush at the person.

We went up the river. We made our way through the thicket, constantly stopping and calling each other to show granite pools carved out by the river - trout flashed through them with blue sparks - huge green beetles with long mustaches, foamy grumpy waterfalls, horsetails taller than we were tall, thickets of forest anemones and clearings with peonies.

Borya came across a small dusty pit that looked like a child's bath. We walked around it carefully. Apparently this was a wild boar's roosting area.

The father went ahead. He started calling us. We made our way to it through the buckthorn, avoiding huge mossy boulders.

These are dolmens,” said the father. - Ancient burial grounds of the Scythians. Or maybe these are not burial grounds at all. Until now, scientists cannot find out who, why and how built these dolmens.

I was sure that dolmens were the dwellings of long-extinct dwarf people. But I didn’t tell my father about this, since Borya was with us: he would have made me laugh.

Since then, in my imagination, I have become the owner of another magnificent country - the Caucasus. A passion for Lermontov, abreks, and Shamil began. Mom was worried again.

Now, in adulthood, I remember with gratitude my childhood hobbies. They taught me a lot.

But I was not at all like the noisy and enthusiastic boys choking with saliva from excitement, giving no rest to anyone. On the contrary, I was very shy and did not pester anyone with my hobbies.

Paustovsky distant years summary of school knowledge. Distant Years (Book about Life)

"The Tale of Life"