Translated material
Oski
In society
Oski
May 25, 2020 Adele Kalinichenko
I have a good reason: I was small and stupid. And all people around in those days were also small and stupid. In addition to Vladimir Maramzin.
He then worked in the Aurora magazine, and I was a schoolgirl, I don’t even remember what, but definitely not the very senior class. I regularly ran to the newspaper "Smena" to Polina Semenovna Nightingale, bringing her some notes in her beak.
There, in the office of Polina Semenovna, Borodach Maramzin and once told me for no reason: "Listen, but go, I will introduce you to Brodsky."
Who is Brodsky, neither I, nor almost the rest of the population of Leningrad then (probably a year, that way, in 1967 it was) did not know a dream or spirit. The exception was only comrades from Liteiny. And to the house of Brodsky from their large house, it was quite a stone's throw for their convenience for their convenience. But it’s not about them here.
Both the owner and his cat were namesakes - both were called axes. But the cat seemed to me more interesting than the owner. He was black and without a tail, like all cats of a special -free breed from the British Island of Maine. He tirelessly jumped and hanged on furniture, then on the curtains, like a small cheerful monkey. Oska, a man, on the contrary, was serious and not fussy. And somehow he is confused, but not from ours with Maramzin, I don’t even know, a planned or unexpected parish.
He simply seemed to seem to be a man, so to speak, "otherworldly." We sat at a round table and began to drink tea with black bread. I did not really listen to what these very adults and serious people talked about. Although it was clear that they were talking about verses and that Italian translators would come now.
Brodsky took out a stack of sheets with printed verses, Maramzin read ...
We did not have time to finish our tea, the bell really rang out and living real and very beautiful Italians, a middle -aged man and a young woman entered the room. My companion whispered to me that we had to leave, and we left. The OSKA-COT ONE ONE OF WE AND WITH WILL, the translators did not come to his soul ...
About ten years ago, I and the youngest daughter, who at that time was approximately as many years as I did when the great Russian poet Joseph Brodsky personally poured strong tea into my cup, came to visit him again. In the cemetery of the island of San Michele in the Venetian lagoon.
When Brodsky was reburied here a year after his death, next to the graves of Diaghilev and Stravinsky, they lowered the bottle of his favorite whiskey and a pack of favorite cigarettes into the ground. I laid a round metal token next to the tombstone for travel in the St. Petersburg metro.
- Why did he need him? - asked Dasha.
“It will come in handy,” I answered ... 
Photo: 1-2. 07.04.2020. Street art depicting Brodsky’s poet in a medical mask appeared in St. Petersburg. Alexander Demyanchuk/TASS
All rights to materials located on the EJ.ru website are protected in accordance with the legislation of the Russian Federation, including copyright and related rights. With any use of the site and satellite projects, hyperlink (Hyperlink) on EJ.ru is required.