For maximum satisfaction listen to (i.e. inspired by) the songs called A Gentleman's Excuse (by Fish in the album called Vigil in the Wilderness of Mirrors) and The Russian Winter (by Omega in the album called Skyrover)
Nathasha is a Russian princess. In my dreamlands. At times when I feel she gets bored (indeed she gets bored very frequently in her imaginary, ordinary life) I immediately arrange a ball. Fortunately I had created many counts and barons around, who, when I go with a ball offer, never break my heart and open their ballroom of their chateaues or palaces right away.
Count of Legro, too, is one of them. Both he and his beautiful wife, the countess of Legro, love Nathasha very much. They could even sacrifice their lives to make her get rid of her boredom.
This time, I imagined such a scenario for the ball as follows : Petersburg (the winter place of Nathasha’s father, field Marshall Chenin, who is known with a good friendship with the tsar, is around Petersburg) is under snow. The whether which has been snowing for days almost paralysis the life around the city. All the members of jet-set (including Nathasha) has been prisoned in their palaces or chateaues and been dying of getting bored. Some has been embroidering the missing pieces of their trousseauses and some playing card games to kill time.
However Nathasha has not wanted to do such silly things. While watching the snow-gardens outside from her room’s window she sees a small bird far in the sky, which is wrapped around itself with rainbow colors. The bird keeps flying around the sky and suddenly lands into Nathasha’s window. Nathasha on the other hand can not even move and get excited with what she sees. The bird very enjoys her with this emotion. And bursts into a sweet laughter. The bird leans toward Nathasha and whispers through her with such a voice that no one else can hear what is to be told :
- A snow-white troika which you will not be able to differentiate from the snow soon later will come and take you to an endless trip in the sky. Do not get bored any.
And the bird, the huge boring Petersburg winter, and the tsar, and the Chenin and everything suddenly disappears.
Now Nathasha has been hanging in the air and her clothes all made up of white tulles flying around and thus making her ashamed and her cheeks all red.
Nathasha has been opened her arms and looking the farest in the sky.
And from the far away is heard nothing but the exotic voices that are made by the bells of the white Russian winter’s white troika’s deers with wing as they run - just like heard in the winter songs.
Nathasha has been very excited. Now the wind does not make her ashamed anymore. Nathasha has been waiting the troika to tear the white foggy curtain and to come closer to herself.
Troika does it slowly. The gypsy of the troika (i.e. me) pulls the ropes of the deers gently. The troika stops. The exotic voices are echoed in the sky a little further and then get lost in the whites.
- O Nathasha ! My only bored Russian princess Nathasha ! Look, your gypsy came to rescue you again. Come on, fly with me !
Nathasha shakes her shoulders like a little girl that appears to mean ‘no way’ and the whole universe hears her silk-voice at that moment :
- No way ! I never come with you if you did not bring me new paper-flowers.
I smile in silence. I lean into the troika and take out a basket. All the world has been in colors again. Nathasha opens her eyes enormously. Lights, now add her beauty much more beauty ! I pass the basket through her.
First she can not sacrifice them : she can not touch the basket. The she gets her hand into the basket with slow motion and…
And the light sources of all universe belongs to her. Again… Nathasha moves her little fingers over the flowers. And sometimes slowly touches them. All this time her face defines the meaning of happiness. And of love.
I watch Nathasha so long. I fall in love with her again. And again…
Then Nathasha while keeping watching her basket makes an imaginary step forward. She passes her hand to me. I catch her hand slowly, kiss it sweetly and take her to the troika gently. I sit beside her and give a sign to my deers. Now the ball has been forgotten. Troika, passing exotic voices behind, flies higher, higher and higher. And disappears behind clouds.
And nobody knows where Nathasha and her gypsy flied to…
(originally written in Turkish in 1990 & in-house translation 1994)
Bu yaziyla ilgili yorumlariniz varsa yazara mesaj gonderebilirsiniz.
Bu sayfa 21 Temmuz 1996'da evde hazirlanmistir...