Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Val Votrin

“Together with all the apples,” Yazygu chimed in. “The apples will not live to see the day of destruction,” Topchu reigned him in. “They will be gobbled up long before that.” “Khryrgyn!” the shaman started howling in a frenzy while waving his arms at them. “You are — khryrgyn! The Great Terrible Spirits, spit fire on this scum of the land of Magog!” “Alright, it’s time for supper!” Topchu said cheerfully, letting the shaman’s squeals in one ear and out the other. Throughout the supper, the basket with the red, ripened apples, generously set aside for us by the master of the garden for our hard labor, reigned supreme in the middle of the table. We ate, drank wine, and exchanged jokes, having entirely forgotten the shaman’s words. And he had disappeared somewhere, left the house — and did not come back for several days. The apples of the land of Ogon, fragrant, red, curvaceous. You were delicious then, on that evening; it was as though you bestowed your bliss upon the sons of the land of Magog who had collected you. _____


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