Андрей Битов, Александр Александров - Сердце - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

3. Rooster

...Have we already discussed the nature of the indescribable with someone? Wasn't it Pavel Petrovich? Not otherwise. I remember we talked to him...

We are overcome either by indescribable horror or by indescribable delight.

If you get it, then write, since you are such a writer... What should you write about if not about the indescribable? Anyone who comes across it will write about the undescribed. The writer touches both of these walls - delight and horror, making his way through the narrow corridor of the narrative (nation is non-routine, an Englishman once told me). We want to spread out in breadth: the sea - who wrote it? and the mountains? and the forest? and the sky? Turgenev and Bunin practiced while we had time. Again Turner (at the prompt of PP). Again, indescribable silence: the cicadas were ringing and the surf was incessantly roaring, a string burst in the fog, and someone was blowing pitifully into a bottle... Like, indescribable - write so beautifully, they say, the more indescribable, the more beautiful. Is the ugly something that can be described? It’s just that something worse can be written about the ugly... But all the same: the beautiful is like..., and the ugly is like... Without “how” there is no way here. Language does not consist of comparisons, it consists of words. The words are included in a dictionary. And we are enclosed in words. The fly is, so to speak, in amber. So who is beautiful - amber or a fly? Words disappear from the dictionary, precipitating as if in a supersaturated solution. The indescribable beast - the horse - was finally described: a native Russian word was lovingly chosen for each of its joints. And what? The horse leaves the dictionary in parts: first the pastern, then the shin, then the tarsus, then the pastern, then the corolla - only the mane and hooves remain - the cornea. The cow, the house, the songbirds, and the grass disappear, piece by piece, behind the horse. What kind of collectivization is this? They say the commissars came and took everyone out of the yard. But no, the commissars are not alone... We are. And the words that appeared in return are already anonymous, and not the words: what do I get from a calculator with a cash collector? Not half a dime. Well, airplane is a good word... What will I see if I look out the porthole rather than out the window? Not a fence or a chicken - I will see an indescribable beauty that no one had seen before the plane: it is pink and white, solid, whipped, boundless, swirling, and above it is this, how can I put it better? - blue-blue, blue-blue, just like, just like... just like the sky. Where are you flying? And I'm flying in the sky. So what’s indescribable here, since it’s heaven? What kind of clouds? Like cotton wool... and - nothing but cotton wool. Arctic, space. Well, I’ll write: indescribable silence. There was an indescribable silence, I will write. No, better: there was silence. Somehow it’s already more succinct. Like, like a pillar. Or how hot it is. It is even better for the pillar to stand as silence. This suits the pillar better. Or the heat was intense. Maybe silence is enough. Silence, that's all.

Silence.

However, indescribable.

“Well, in our room there is silence like a spinning wheel...”

So, it’s still describable?

And the spinning wheel?.. In which dictionary will you soon find this word?

And you won’t find silence.

Until it finally comes upon you. Like an elephant.

Silence fell like an elephant... Is this good?

But this is not good...