ended. I'm going home
and what life do I have ahead?
Such life. I have never lived such life before.
Like this. Look.
How to live like that?
I didn't know that then. I went and russian fleet parted with me.
Mom wrote me letters every day.
I read those letters.
I understood she didn't write them me.
Or: open a package mother has sent.
I was even frightened to move objects she had put there
because this package and these letters were not sent to me
but to that boy who was given an apple someday there.
But there is no such boy!
No. There is just deckhand who is called by his surname in evening.
During evening formation.
That boy is not anymore, there is deckhand.
It was so hard for me
to write some letter to mom from the name of this deckhand.
I wrote letters to mom, for example, like this:
My loved ones!
I have everything normal. Normal friends. Normal food.
Health is normal. Festivities are soon to come.
Your son.
I couldn't write her:
"Mommy! I am not anymore.
Don't write."
I was deckhand, not an idiot.
When I was called such names I thought I was not supposed to be called,
or I did something I thought I was not supposed to do under any circumstances
I never felt sorry for myself. I felt sorry for my parents.
Because I am only one for them....only one they're waiting for.
But in reality there is no such man they're waiting for.
And there will never be.
Never.
I went down the pier.
I went down the pier, huge battleships stayed behind my back.
I went with my suitcase in hand.
And in honour of me wonderful music began to play
and I forgave them everything.
That was not an orchestra, of course. Just a tape recorder
and loudspeakers.
I forgave them everything right away but more important was
that I wanted: "Lord! How goof it would be if everybody forgave me!"
Because in honout of me march "?????" was paying.
I went down the pier and cried.
Then I stepped out in railway station of my native city...
Red trams, yellow buses, blue trolleys.
I know all the lines.
I know where do they go, where do they make turns, where do they come back from.
And I can guess where people go.
But I won't talk about this because I go together with them.
We go together, why should I talk about it?
But on the monuments there's an inscription:
"Russian mariners didn't ask what the enemy numbers were
but where was the enemy located"
AAAAAHHHHHHH
It's not written there, AAAHHH was my voice.
We, too, would have sighed like this,
we simply weren't lucky and came back!
Life went on differently.
I don't want to say it went on worse,
otherwise it would turn out I'm talking about reasons and making complaints.
But I didn't make complaints. Right?
And didn't say anything about reasons.
It had to go on differently. I don't want to say "worse"
or to ask: how's life?
Normal.
What does "normal" mean?!
????
Simply, there's an inscription on the monument:
"Russian mariners didn't ask what the enemy numbers were
but where was the enemy located"
AAAAHHHHHH
That was my voice.
If to look at all this...I told just now from other point of view
then...
there in no other point of view.