Repentance of a Lamb

By Yuriy Batsuev

“The repentance of the lamb” is a book of revelations, predominantly confessional in nature. It seems to be done for the purpose of spiritual self-purification by exposing those moments of life which people for the most part prefer to hide in themselves.
The question involuntarily arises, Is it necessary to open the wings of the soul so frankly? ..
The author believes that it is necessary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yuriy Batsuev
• Release date: Apr 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463395653

Book preview

Yuri Batsuev

REPENTANCE OF A LAMB

Yuri Batsuev

REPENTANCE OF THE LAMB

SELECTED STORIES

Almaty 2017

Certificate of State Registration of

Rights to the Copyright Object No. 0814

From May 4, 2016

IS 004393

Annotation

The repentance of the lamb is a book of revelations, predominantly confessional in nature. It seems to be done for the purpose of spiritual self-purification by exposing those moments of life which people for the most part prefer to hide in themselves.

The question involuntarily arises, Is it necessary to open the wings of the soul so frankly? ..

The author believes that it is necessary.

CONTENT

Before and after

Aska

School love

Alyoshka Rebrov

Sasha Pirinsky

Dashing girl slanting

Marvelous Eve and adolescent Adam

The miracle of healing

Leaves of the Gene Tree

The repentance of the lamb

Mother

Nanny Stura

Grandfather Zhuravlev

Uncle Pronya

My brother Shunya

Life is constant

He and she

Before and After

Coming out of the park gates, I went to the department store and literally collided with a girl who had gone out, I danced with her last night in a park on the playground.

Hello, - I said, not hiding the joy of meeting. She looked at me and nodded in response. - What are you doing here? I continued my greeting, not wanting to leave her so quickly.

And what can I do in a department store?She was surprised at the question. - Examined the things that are there.

In fact - I explained, trying to lure her into a conversation, - this building was not always a shopping center. There used to be a club here. And ten years ago, my elder brother Shunya was collecting glasses in that place, twenty meters away. He did this with enthusiasm until a man in military uniform with a duffel bag behind him and awards on his chest appeared before him. He picked up Shunya from the ground and asked: - Who are you: Shurik or Yurik? Shurik, answered the brother. And I am your dad, said the military. - I returned from the front, from the war.

As you can see, - I summed up, - this is a memorable place. I can say, historical for our family, and when I come home, I often come to this place.

Very interesting, - she said, and in turn asked. - What are you doing?

Absolutely nothing. Yes, and what can a student who has just arrived from internship to his home country do. But you, how did get here, because you're not from these places? - And I added: - Personally, I live in the most beautiful in the village of a three-story house with columns.

And I, - she said, - live here side by side in a two-story house called boarding school.

Yes, here two houses are called like this, although only one of them is a real boarding school for children suffering from spinal curvature. In which of them are you staying?

In the second from here. I arrived to the sanatorium on a ticket for ten days from Tavria.

About Tavria, I only knew that a village with such a name was somewhere on the bank of the Irtysh. But I have never been there.

Can’t you ask me nicely? - I suggested. - We are not so solid and old to forge. And I will tell you directly and honestly, I liked you yesterday at the dances, and now, - I continued, going on the attack, - when I saw your big blue eyes, I cannot help but tell you right away about it.

I noticed you yesterday too, we danced three dances, I even remember which ones. However, on you, so on you. We will be familiar. - She called her name, and I called my own, although so it was clear that I was the Yurik that my father asked about.

Maybe let's go? - I suggested immediately.

Where?

Anywhere. We can go along this road. It leads first to the hill, then rounds it. But we will climb up, and I will show you a big funnel. In winter, it gathers snow, and I remember how my uncle Alyoshka and I ran away from the lessons and slid down to the bottom of the funnel. He was three years older than me, and we studied in the same class.

I don’t mind, - she agreed. - As I see you know everything here, then be my guide.

And we went to the funnel. The panorama was well opened from the top of the hill. And I, taking advantage of this, began to acquaint my companion with the landscape around our village. - There, far beyond the Irtysh River, the three-headed mountain turns blue, it is called Three Bogatyrs - beautiful, isn't it? - I said to my companion, pointing in that direction. - In fact, this is not a mountain, but a mirage of randomly scattered high hills, which we see from here as a single mountain ensemble. I dedicated a poem to my brother Shunya in which I wrote: Do you remember Grebenyushk, Black Mountain, Irtysh, the three-headed mountain tip and deep tishan? Three bogatyrs , we were shot in the childhood from arson, and then in a circle - our famous Grebenyushk - there people, especially young people, go to the May holidays every year to climb rocks. More to the right is the Calendar hill, people say: As the Calendar will smoke – it will rain, the weather will get worse...

And then we began to go down the slope to the little church, which stood on a field on the other side of the hill.

The church has not been working for a long time, - I said, - now, as I know, it’s a museum of local lore is here, and the former priest’s tomb (without a cross) is near. And there further, behind the river Glubochanka, in that house used to live priest and his wife, who served in this church. They had a daughter - Tatiana Lukinichna Oslopova - my first teacher. She was kind, but I, because of my bad manners, often pushed her buttons on the lessons. I remember, she dumped me at the door on the lesson. I went around the school and conversely started playing langa in front of the window of our class. Do you know what langa is? - This is a little fleecy skin with lead. It should be beaten with the leg bent at the knee, and not allowed to fall to the ground. Usually we boys competed, who will do more blows. With this lung I amused myself in front of the window during the lesson. T.L. asked the class who knows where the mum of this amusing one works, meaning me. I, answered Lyonka Schultz eagerly. And she sent him with a note to my mother, in which she asked to come to school to talk about my behavior. Schultz completed the assignment, and when he returned to school, he came across me at the entrance. Yura, he said, I ran home to take a notebook, which I had forgotten at home, and I saw your mother, she asked: How is Yura there? I said: Everything is fine. " Then mother came to school, a conversation took place. And the next day, my fist got stuck on Schultz's chin. And our friendship with him was over. But before that, we were helping each other out: he helped me with maths, and I helped with dictations.

So I entertained my friend with endless conversations, but in the meantime I looked at her from the side and felt that I liked me more and more. She listened trustingly, and a lively interest flashed in her big blue eyes, then she looked at me curiously. Blonde hair hung from her shoulders, and a graceful figure was hidden behind thin summer clothes.

Meanwhile, we crossed the small river bridge, passed the priest's house and climbed higher along the sloping road, where a street with unpretentious huts and vegetable gardens going down to the riverbed started on the left.

And here, among these huts, I don’t remember exactly where, - I continued to entertain my companion, - was my grandmother Olya’s hut. She built it herself with her younger son, a boy that time. Build, you can say from nothing. Here you and I have under your feet a flat surface covered with grass. This is turf. It was cut out in the form of rectangular bricks, and from this soil layer consisting of earth and grass, a dwelling was built, which was then coated with clay. And to make the roof, the grandmother harnessed Fenka the cow in a cart and rode into the forest. Cut down the rafters and other supports. Brought and built. Victor Pavlovich - the last grandmother's husband, was then very sick: he was nailed to the ground with a tub. He could not physically work, but he selflessly smoked self-garden. I remember my grandfather precisely in this hut, lying on a Russian stove with a roll in his mouth. In the house there was always smoke on the yoke. Grandfather was, moreover, an ardent swear. He did not curse on people, but when the pain was very hot. His mats were special. But I will not repeat them to you, I joked, and you will like something else, and in old age, like my grandfather, you will be an avid mother. I said this nonsense, and she seemed to me, it was interesting to listen.

But on the right side of this street there is a real space, - I said with pathos. - Here the fields begin. They are planted with buckwheat, sunflowers, and sometimes left under the steam. Then the grass grows here, and at first the shovels and stacks appear, and then by the winter, they are harvested into large ricks...

The day was warm and sunny, we turned off the road and took shelter in the shadow of one of the stacks. Even when we were walking, blithely talking, especially I - was telling a really exciting nonsense, I suddenly felt that I was incredibly attracted to my companion. From this, everything around was perceived with an aura of admiration. New bright feelings were born in me, only after many years, already meaningful enough,they will find their verbal design in poems about beloved girl, the culprit of which, of course, was she, my new acquaintance.

Oh my God, how good I feel by her side, - I thought, - I’m attracted to this girl stronger and stronger. My dream, earthly and desirable – it was a moment when this poetic line was born, because before that, I hadn’t experienced such joyous excitement.

We came up to the haystack holding our hands and sat in a shadow. I undid the button of my shirt. She opened the blouse. First, I kissed her cheek and then lips. I touched her hair with my lips. She took off her blouse then skirt and everything else. I absolutely stunned looking at her with rapturous eyes, experiencing the tremulous joy of her miraculous beauty.

I can not say that I have never seen a naked woman. I saw them, oddly enough, very much. We boys who grew up without their fathers, who fought on the war and died there, were forced to go to the bathhouse with their mothers. Therefore, the accumulation of washable naked women did not bother us. Only grandmothers, with wrinkled faces and emaciated bodies with saggy skin, sharpened their attention, carefully moving with basins filled with water. They were alarming: as if someone slipped and fell.

And the rest of the women were perceived as mundane, as people engaged in business - at the moment washing themselves and children. Male lust instincts have not yet been. However, for some time I had a serious embarrassment and even fear, when I suddenly saw a girl with whom I studied in the same class. At this point I tried my best to hide behind the bodies of adult women. And in the future I was only afraid of this.

This case was different. She is lying in front of me, my divine Fairy, naked and charmingly – beautiful. Her body outlines reminded me a guitar. Shoulder line narrowed to waist. And then expanded in the hips. Although (what do I say?) everything was vice versa: a guitar is made by masters and craftsmen on the likeness of women not only to play as an instrument nice melodies, but also to remind about the most wonderful being on the Earth. There is no doubt that Lord made the shape of women so that it should enjoy and bring pleasure.

I knelt down in front of her and, like a child, pushing my face to her breasts, I began to kiss these virgin bumps, the bodily hills that allowed me to touch them. She was gentle and pliable. Her wide-open eyes were spilling out the heaven light and hands were reaching out to meet me…

Before that, my kisses with girls were more symbolic than passionate, and the relationship was purely platonic. My first girlfriend was my classmate Inka, I kissed her, barely touching her cheeks and lips with my lips, and then, in tenth grade, I met Lucy, I only kissed her lips. She wanted so. Of course, there was a difference in kisses. And once, when I accidentally touched her breast with my hand, I immediately received a slap in the face. I did not even immediately realize what such disfavor is for.

And now, kissing at first the mounds of the breasts and the hollow between them, my lips were unconsciously approaching the waist. In this case, the arms wrapped around the camp, with gentle movements, touched the ovals of her hips. For a moment, to regain my breath, I raised myself up, and my gaze penetrated to where a bunch of silky fawn-colored hairs covered my inmost bosom. And then she abruptly pulled me, prompting me to enter. And I entered, or rather, failed, not feeling obstacles. Something is not right, flashed through my mind, I had to not fall into the abyss of lust, but break through into the bosom of love through a natural obstacle in order to become forever a devoted admirer and the only beloved of my divine Fairy. And instead of dissolving in it and enjoying intercourse, learning the secrets of love, as all people do, and not only they, but all living things in the world, I, breaking free from the embrace, jumped to my feet and began to frantically pull on my clothes . How can it be? - I wondered - was that you, a divine Fairy, with whom I was ready to go through all my life, or did all this make me feel sad? .. I was taken aback, looking around helplessly. And she, just a caressed Fairy, understood everything, understood my disappointment, and wept. She barely covered the body with a dress, she sobbed without a word of excuse...

From somewhere, the buster came and stopped at our haystack. Sitting on his horse, he silently stared at us. I abruptly signaled to him that he should retire. Are you all right here? He asked. Go, go, I said softly. And he drove slowly back home. And then we, without looking each other in the eyes, went back to where we started our romantic walk ...

The next day, when she saw me walking from the park to the department store, she joyfully rushed towards me with outstretched hands. Why are you so happy? - I thought, - because the feelings are separate: yours and mine - a line broke out in my mind, which will certainly take its place in my poems.

And I met her discreetly, without opening my arms to embrace. It was a grudge of an innocent pure boy for misguided hopes. Although what deception, and what hope? After all, we were barely acquainted.

I do not even remember how we parted, but parted forever. I was not a full eighteen and she was a little more. But after a year or a year and a half, bravado-cynical poems arose, which I associate with this particular event.

But that moment I embraced her not at all nervously, but with great love and trust. And the day was not dull, but joyful and sunny. Yes, it was the Love of an innocent Lamb. And the poem reflects rather those feelings that originated as a result of unjustified expectations. Of course, even after that event I loved women, but somewhere deep, deep in my heart a carefully concealed element of cynicism appeared and remained, sometimes coming out in my relationship with the tender half of humanity.

It struck me that after the appearance of the poem, I completely forgot the name of the girl whom was ready to trust for the rest of my life. Sometimes, in order to remember it, I mentally go through all the names that I know, but in vain - none of them fit her. Well, that was my reaction to the end of that divine day, and in fact it was this unforgettable day, which first gave me a holy feeling of love, and then reduced it to cynicism.

Aska

It was an acne thug robust, recently freed from prison, where he served a year for hooliganism. I did not know him and never communicated with him.

Our drilling squad was located in a small village, in which scientists conducted some research on animal husbandry. Just for them, we drilled wells in the groundwater. After the well in the village opened the self-flowing fresh water of excellent quality, the management of the scientific institute ordered