Rus Articles Journal

In the wood of

Air cloudy is damp and booming;

is good and informidable in the wood; the Easy cross of lonely walks

Ya obediently again I will incur


O. Mandelstam.

I always loved the wood. Even when did not know about it, did not know what is the Wood. Loved. Dumbly. Disinterestedly. Certainly. You ask - unless it is possible to love what never saw, did not know? I will answer absolutely sincerely - I do not know. For most of representatives of human race the love begins with that moment when you learn about this love. But in my case everything was differently. At first there was a love, its understanding came then. I know it for certain. I should have turned out for the first time in the Wood as I right there understood, felt by each nerve, every time, each hair that I am part of the Wood, and the Wood - part me, as well as all of us - part of the nature, we also are the nature, and each of us - a small particle of this huge Space. Just we forgot about it. Wished to forget. All made to forget.

Ya I like to go to the Wood. I like to wander about its twisting threads of footpaths, plowing carefree noses rubber, on one leg someone the presented boots, pepelno - red shreds of last year`s leaves. I like to swallow a full breast exciting, infused on pine needles and diluted with fog - this pair milk of morning, of the forest air bearing vivifying force in all sections of my body, tired of a civilization. I like to listen to

Ya, having held to intoxicated dizziness breath, to joyful trills and modulations of the forest birds who are constantly singing anthems to the Sun, Leta, Lives. I like to look as direct and sharp as a lancet, the ray of sunlight suddenly breaks inside still the dozing Wood and through pierces green fans from leaves, hitting against the earth which is given to drink by a night rain, awakening and forcing to tremble all live in violent dance of life. And then, when as if having been frightened of something, in the distance bird`s high intermittent singing suddenly will stop and the shy echo will calm down, it is possible to hear as waves spreads, absorbing everything around, stunning with greatness and solemnity, Her Majesty of Tishin. Here where real music, here where harmony.

of Tss... And it that? I do not trust the eyes! From - under the wrinkled, last year`s leaf, the little forest gnome, in ognenno - the Little Red Riding Hood and a white kaftanyishk in a black speck looks out, trying to seem absolutely imperceptible for a public eye at all the bright attire. As if the small toy miracle which descended from pages of the nurseries which are already a little forgotten, fairy tales it crafty looks at me, having shifted aslant the scarlet hat, not blinking and without moving. And I, in turn, stiffen in disturbing amazement What is it?! Is that so! Here so good luck! The real early handsome - an aspen mushroom! My heart is speeded up fights as on the first appointment, dispersing the exciting oxygen on veins, the head is quietly turned, from lips joyful shout - triumph involuntarily breaks, and I rush at full speed, risking to scratch the person about dense branches, but I do not turn on them the slightest attention because it is so unimportant, so insignificant and that is important - so it, this small piece of the sun in a corrugated frame from yesterday`s foliage whose crimson quiet shine just blinds. I am afraid to lose it from a look also I rush that is forces, I lose it, again I find, I drop to one knee as before the loved ladylove, and, having forgotten about a knife, I clasp it at first with one, then other hand as if caressing, then, at last, I find a knife, I cut off, as low as possible, that a mushroom seemed more, more majestic, lift it victoriously in air, and, having dunked into a solar cheerful beam, joyfully I smile to the find, a ray of sunlight, the whole world I am happy!

my pleasure does not grow dim for a long time. And it is unimportant how many mushrooms and berries I collected - much or a little. Important the fact that this Earth which is strewn lightly with dry branches and faded leaves with green glades from Herbs and Flowers, this magic Air impregnated with smells and sounds, this gold Sun which seems closer to me than where - or, give me strength return me in days of carefree youth is filled with violent desire to live further. So simply.