Lyrics Габриэль Гарсиа Маркес - Глаза голубой собаки
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Габриэль Гарсия Маркес
Глаза голубой собаки
Она пристально смотрела на меня, а я все не мог понять, где прежде я видел эту девушку. Ее влажный тревожный взгляд заблестел в неровном свете керосиновой лампы, и я вспомнил — мне каждую ночь снится эта комната и лампа, и каждую ночь я встречаю здесь девушку с тревожными глазами. Да-да, именно ее я вижу каждый раз, переступая зыбкую грань сновидений, грань яви и сна. Я отыскал сигареты и закурил, откинувшись на спинку стула и балансируя на его задних ножках, — терпкий кисловатый дым заструился кольцами. Мы молчали. Я — покачиваясь на стуле, она — грея тонкие белые пальцы над стеклянным колпаком лампы. Тени дрожали на ее веках. Мне показалось, я должен что-то сказать, и я произнес наугад: «Глаза голубой собаки», — и она отозвалась печально: «Да. Теперь мы никогда этого не забудем». Она вышла из светящегося круга лампы и повторила: «Глаза голубой собаки. Я написала это повсюду».
Она повернулась и отошла к туалетному столику. В круглой луне зеркала появилось ее лицо — отражение лица, его оптический образ, двойник, готовый раствориться в трепетном свете лампы. Грустные глаза цвета остывшей золы печально посмотрели на меня и опустились, она открыла перламутровую пудреницу и коснулась пуховкой носа и лба. «Я так боюсь, — сказала она, — что эта комната приснится кому-нибудь еще, и он все здесь перепутает.» Она щелкнула замочком пудреницы, поднялась и вернулась к лампе. «Тебе не бывает холодно?» — спросила она. «Иногда бывает…» — ответил я. Она раскрыла озябшие руки над лампой, и тень от пальцев легла на ее лицо. «Я, наверно, простужусь, — пожаловалась она. — Ты живешь в ледяном городе».
Керосиновый огонек делал ее кожу медно-красной и глянцевой. «У тебя бронзовая кожа, — сказал я. — Иногда мне кажется, что в настоящей жизни ты должна быть бронзовой статуэткой в углу какого-нибудь музея». «Нет, — сказала она. — Но порой мне и самой кажется, что я металлическая — когда я сплю на левом боку и сердце гулко бьется у меня в груди». — «Мне всегда хотелось услышать, как бьется твое сердце». — «Если мы встретимся наяву, ты сможешь приложить ухо к моей груди и услышишь». — «Если мы встретимся наяву…» Она положила руки на стеклянный колпак и промолвила: «Глаза голубой собаки. Я всюду повторяю эти слова».
Глаза голубой собаки. С помощью этой фразы она искала меня в реальной жизни, слова эти были паролем, по которому мы должны были узнать друг друга наяву. Она ходила по улицам и повторяла как бы невзначай: «Глаза голубой собаки». И в ресторанах, сделав заказ, она шептала молодым официантам: «Глаза голубой собаки». И на запотевших стеклах, на окнах отелей и вокзалов выводила она пальцем: «Глаза голубой собаки». Люди вокруг лишь недоуменно пожимали плечами, а официанты кланялись с вежливым равнодушием. Как-то в аптеке ей почудился запах, знакомый по снам, и она сказала аптекарю: «Есть юноша, которого я вижу во сне. Он всегда повторяет: „Глаза голубой собаки“. Может быть вы знаете его?» Аптекарь в ответ рассмеялся неприязненно и отошел к другому концу прилавка. А она смотрела на новый кафельный пол аптеки, и знакомый запах все мучил и мучил ее. Не выдержав, она опустилась на колени и губной помадой написала на белых плитках: «Глаза голубой собаки». Аптекарь бросился к ней: «Сеньорита, вы испортили мне пол. Возьмите тряпку и сотрите немедленно!» И весь вечер она ползала на коленях, стирая буквы и повторяя сквозь слезы: «Глаза голубой собаки. Глаза голубой собаки». А в дверях гоготали зеваки, собравшиеся посмотреть на сумасшедшую.
Она умолкла, а я все сидел, покачиваясь на стуле. «Каждое утро, — сказал я, — я пытаюсь вспомнить фразу, по которой
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Blue dog eyes
She stared at me, but I still could not understand where I had seen this girl before. Her wet, anxious look gleamed in the uneven light of a kerosene lamp, and I remembered that every night I dream of this room and the lamp, and every night I meet a girl with disturbing eyes. Yes, yes, it is her that I see every time, crossing the unsteady facet of dreams, the face of reality and sleep. I found cigarettes and lit a cigarette, leaning back in my chair and balancing on his hind legs — a tart sour smoke streamed into rings. We were silent. I am swaying in a chair, she is warming her delicate white fingers above the glass cap of the lamp. Shadows trembled on her eyelids. It seemed to me that I should say something, and I said at random, “The eyes of a blue dog,” and she said sadly: “Yes. Now we will never forget it. ” She came out of the luminous circle of the lamp and repeated: “Eyes of a blue dog. I wrote it everywhere. ”
She turned and walked away to the dressing table. In the round moon of the mirror, her face appeared — a reflection of the face, its optical image, a double, ready to dissolve into the quivering light of a lamp. The sad eyes of the color of the cooled ash looked at me sadly and sank down, she opened the nacreous powder box and touched a powder puff on her nose and forehead. “I’m so scared,” she said, “that this room will dream of someone else, and he will confuse everything here.” She snapped the lock of the powder box, rose, and returned to the lamp. “Isn't it cold?” She asked. “Sometimes it happens ...” I replied. She opened her chilled hands over the lamp, and the shadow of her fingers rested on her face. “I probably have a cold,” she complained. “You live in an icy city.”
The kerosene flame made her skin coppery and glossy. “You have bronze skin,” I said. “Sometimes it seems to me that in real life you have to be a bronze statuette in the corner of a museum.” “No,” she said. “But sometimes it seems to me myself that I am metal — when I sleep on my left side and my heart beats loudly in my chest.” “I always wanted to hear your heart beating.” - "If we meet in reality, you can put an ear to my chest and hear." “If we meet in reality ...” She put her hands on the glass cap and said, “Eyes of a blue dog. I repeat these words everywhere. ”
Blue dog eyes. With the help of this phrase, she was looking for me in real life, these words were a password by which we had to get to know each other in reality. She walked through the streets and repeated, as it were, by chance: "The eyes of a blue dog." And in restaurants, having made an order, she whispered to young waiters: "Eyes of a blue dog." And on the misted windows, on the windows of hotels and train stations, she would pull out with her finger: "Eyes of a blue dog." The people around just shrugged their shoulders in bewilderment, and the waiters bowed with polite indifference. Once in a pharmacy, she felt the smell, familiar from dreams, and she said to the pharmacist: “There is a young man whom I see in a dream. He always repeats: "The eyes of a blue dog." Maybe you know him? ”In response, the pharmacist laughed with hostility and went to the other end of the counter. And she looked at the new tile floor of the pharmacy, and the familiar smell tormented and tormented her. Unable to bear it, she knelt down and wrote on white tiles: “Eyes of a blue dog.” The pharmacist rushed to her: “Senorita, you ruined my floor. Take a rag and wipe it off immediately! ”And she crawled on her knees all evening, erasing the letters and repeating through tears:“ The eyes of a blue dog. Blue Dog Eyes. And in the doorway, onlookers giggled, gathered to look at the madman.
She stopped, and I sat, rocking on a chair. “Every morning,” I said, “I try to remember the phrase by which
Blue dog eyes
She stared at me, but I still could not understand where I had seen this girl before. Her wet, anxious look gleamed in the uneven light of a kerosene lamp, and I remembered that every night I dream of this room and the lamp, and every night I meet a girl with disturbing eyes. Yes, yes, it is her that I see every time, crossing the unsteady facet of dreams, the face of reality and sleep. I found cigarettes and lit a cigarette, leaning back in my chair and balancing on his hind legs — a tart sour smoke streamed into rings. We were silent. I am swaying in a chair, she is warming her delicate white fingers above the glass cap of the lamp. Shadows trembled on her eyelids. It seemed to me that I should say something, and I said at random, “The eyes of a blue dog,” and she said sadly: “Yes. Now we will never forget it. ” She came out of the luminous circle of the lamp and repeated: “Eyes of a blue dog. I wrote it everywhere. ”
She turned and walked away to the dressing table. In the round moon of the mirror, her face appeared — a reflection of the face, its optical image, a double, ready to dissolve into the quivering light of a lamp. The sad eyes of the color of the cooled ash looked at me sadly and sank down, she opened the nacreous powder box and touched a powder puff on her nose and forehead. “I’m so scared,” she said, “that this room will dream of someone else, and he will confuse everything here.” She snapped the lock of the powder box, rose, and returned to the lamp. “Isn't it cold?” She asked. “Sometimes it happens ...” I replied. She opened her chilled hands over the lamp, and the shadow of her fingers rested on her face. “I probably have a cold,” she complained. “You live in an icy city.”
The kerosene flame made her skin coppery and glossy. “You have bronze skin,” I said. “Sometimes it seems to me that in real life you have to be a bronze statuette in the corner of a museum.” “No,” she said. “But sometimes it seems to me myself that I am metal — when I sleep on my left side and my heart beats loudly in my chest.” “I always wanted to hear your heart beating.” - "If we meet in reality, you can put an ear to my chest and hear." “If we meet in reality ...” She put her hands on the glass cap and said, “Eyes of a blue dog. I repeat these words everywhere. ”
Blue dog eyes. With the help of this phrase, she was looking for me in real life, these words were a password by which we had to get to know each other in reality. She walked through the streets and repeated, as it were, by chance: "The eyes of a blue dog." And in restaurants, having made an order, she whispered to young waiters: "Eyes of a blue dog." And on the misted windows, on the windows of hotels and train stations, she would pull out with her finger: "Eyes of a blue dog." The people around just shrugged their shoulders in bewilderment, and the waiters bowed with polite indifference. Once in a pharmacy, she felt the smell, familiar from dreams, and she said to the pharmacist: “There is a young man whom I see in a dream. He always repeats: "The eyes of a blue dog." Maybe you know him? ”In response, the pharmacist laughed with hostility and went to the other end of the counter. And she looked at the new tile floor of the pharmacy, and the familiar smell tormented and tormented her. Unable to bear it, she knelt down and wrote on white tiles: “Eyes of a blue dog.” The pharmacist rushed to her: “Senorita, you ruined my floor. Take a rag and wipe it off immediately! ”And she crawled on her knees all evening, erasing the letters and repeating through tears:“ The eyes of a blue dog. Blue Dog Eyes. And in the doorway, onlookers giggled, gathered to look at the madman.
She stopped, and I sat, rocking on a chair. “Every morning,” I said, “I try to remember the phrase by which