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Hírek

Vilikovský, Pavel: Forever Green is (Večne je zelený Angol nyelven)

Vilikovský, Pavel portréja

Večne je zelený (Szlovák)

Začiatky, vravíte, prvé kroky? Aký som bol vtedy krásny! Bledá tvár, to bolo v móde, plavé fúzy, zamatové... no, veľmi som ešte nezarastal; začínal som teda ako milenec plukovníka Alfredla.
Poznáte ten prípad, pravdaže, ale poznáte ho celkom ináč. Netvrdím, že si pamätám všetky detaily, je to už... deväť a dva je šestnásť, šesťdesiatjeden rokov? Pred mladým človekom sa otvárajú všetky cesty... v danom prípade, aby som nezveličo­val, prinajmenšom dve. Napokon, nebol som vtedy ešte upriame­ný na ženy, ten zlozvyk som nadobudol až neskôr, v priebehu aktívnej činnosti a plukovník na tom nenesie nijakú vinu.
Keď mi teda povedali: v najvyššom záujme vlasti, v mene posvätných kresťanských tradícií, zosobnených v cisárskej a kráľovskej korune... Predvolal si ma sám K. U. K., tak sme ho volali, veliteľ tretieho, alebo to bolo piate?, tri a päť, ôsmeho oddelenia. Stál chrbtom k dverám, žalúzia bola spustená... spúšťala sa samočinne, stačilo stlačiť kľučku na dverách; horšie to už bolo, medzi nami, s vyťahovaním.
Slovom, sám K. U. K. ... čítaj ako píšeš ... bodky sa pravdaže nečítajú, pri bodkách sa iba klesá hlasom; človek si nepamätá všetko, ale základné veci, ako napríklad s tým klesaním, prejdú do krvi. Bolo to spravodajské oddelenie... ale to som už hovoril. Milý chlapče, tak ma oslovoval zakaždým, keď sme boli medzi štyrmi očami; chytil ma priateľsky okolo krku, stál celkom blízko, cítil som, ako sa mu chvejú chĺpky v nose, a rukou mi ohmatával plece. Mával som mocné plecia... chyťte si, ešte aj teraz; no len si chyťte. Cvičil som pod
ľa Sandowovej metódy.
Sandow, to nebudete vedieť, bol neduživec, ktorý od narodenia trpel na rachitídu, syfilis, skorbut, sennú nádchu, na všetko sa už ani nepamätám. Spolužiaci, viete, aké sú deti, sa mu vysmievali... nečítali ste to? Aby som zbytočne. Potom začal cvičiť a jedného dňa zdvihol
ľavou rukou učiteľa i so stu­pienkom a tabuľou. To by ste, pravdaže, ešte museli vedieť, akí boli vtedy učitelia dobre živení... štátna služba, pod penziou. Bolo to na hodine matematiky, pamätám sa ako dnes... Dobrá kniha.
Krotiť zmyselnosť znamená obstáť v pokušení. Trošku vulgari­zujem. Berte to ako básnickú skratku. Milovať muža... je to azda menejcenná bytosť? Z h
ľadiska čírej hodnoty? Ale to len tak mimochodom. Prvá vec bola odnaučiťsa láske, okrem, pravdaže, tej najvyššej, láske k idei. Medzi nami, je to ako cmúľať palec, v najhoršom prípade palec na nohe.
Miestnosťou sa niesla jemná vôňa parfumu Katharsis, to už hovorím o inej miestnosti, nie o spravodajskom oddelení, steny potiahnuté červenou kožou sa krvavo ligotali ako rozzeve­ná rana.
Plukovník, zvolal som, vypočujte nešťastnú bytosť! Vyslyšať je krajšie, ale vyslyšanie som vyhradil iba pre styk s bohom. Cit, ktorý som vložil do tých slov, všetky čisté pramene, ktoré tryskajú z duše rozvíjajúceho sa mladíka... ten mladík, to som ja, aspoň vtedy som bol... v rozpuku mladosti, a úprimné zúfalstvo mi vohnalo do ináč bledej tváre rumenec. Ani oko nezostalo suché. Mal ich dve, po tejto stránke bol normálny. Skielko mono­kla sa ligotalo chladným kovovým leskom; bolo, ako iste tušíte, nepriestrelné.
Plukovník, zneli moje slová, poznamenané hlbokým pohnutím, vyslyšte... chcem povedať, vypočujte nešťastníka. Dlho sa už bránim pocitom, ktoré vyvolávajú v mojej duši zmätok a trhajú ma vo dvoje; mňa, ktorý od nepamäti...
Zadržte, povedal plukovník, a jediné panovačné gesto ruky zvyknutej rozkazovať... mal jemné ruky s dlhými pestovanými nechtami, na
ľavom malíčku veľký zlatý prsteň. Za zradu sa platí smrťou. Kde sme to zostali? Ruka zľahka spočinula na mojom pleci a pod jej skúmavým dotykom, rozochveným náznakom rodiaceho sa porozumenia, uvedomil som si zvláštnu podobnosť, súhru okolností, povedali by ste azda, ale príliš obdivuhodnú, aby mi hlavou nepreletelo pomyslenie, ktoré mi v prvej chvíli pripadalo až rúhavé. Ruka, ktorá mi oťažievala na pleci... za ten prsteň mi neskôr v záložni dali 300 korún, a to si treba pamätať, že za 10 korún ste už dostali slušné topánky. Kilo kvalitnej brav­čovej masti stálo tri koruny... alebo sedem? Sedem a tri, sedem­desiattri. Sedmička sa v mnohých krajinách pokladá za šťastné číslo.
Prv ako pristúpime k veci, ktorá vám, ako vidím, neobyčajne ťažko dolieha na srdce, a ako plukovník vravel tieto slová, priložil mi zľahka svoje jemné prsty na miesto, kde pod modrou hodvábnou košeľou vzrušene pulzoval ten najľudskejší zo všetkých svalov. Nemyslím ten, čo vy, hovorím o tom hore vľavo. Prv teda, pokračoval plukovník s jemným úsmevom, ktorý stál medzi mnou a jeho skutočnými myšlienkami ako tenká síce, ale nepriehľadná záclonka, odložme tieto formálne súčiastky odevu, ktoré nám príliš okato pripomínajú naše spoločenské postavenie a záväzky, a dovoľte mi, aby som vás zaviedol do svojho salónika a ponúkol jednoduchým občerstvením, aké náhoda zhromaždila v strohom príbytku starého mládenca.
S týmito slovami ma viedol hlbšie do útrob svojho bytu, zaria­deného i na vtedajšie pomery s nezvyčajným, až zarážajúcim prepychom.
Vidím, mladý priate
ľu, povedal plukovník a s úsmevom ukázal na štýlovú empirickú... empírovú pohovku, potiahnutú fialovým brokátom, vidím, že vás prekvapuje, nazvime to trocha neskrom­ne, vyberaný vkus a elegancia, s akou sa stretávate v príbytku drsného vojaka, muža, ktorý strávil celý svoj život v rinkote zbra­ní.
Nestranný pozorovate
ľ bol by v tej chvíli azda nazval jeho úsmev ironickým. Keby sa bol, pravdaže, vtlačil do bytu cez starostlivo zamknuté dvere, ktoré sa za mnou nehlučne zavreli. Brano, priateľu, zatváralo i vtedy samo a plukovníkovi už stačilo iba zvrtnúť kľúčom, celkom nenápadne... Ľavá ruka nevie, čo robí pravá.


KiadóVečne je zelený. Slovesnký spisovateľ 1998

Forever Green is (Angol)

Beginnings, you say, first steps? How handsome I was then! Pale face, fashionable, fair moustache, velvety… well, I hardly had any bristles then; so I started as Colonel Alfred's lover.
You are familiar with a situation like this case, of course, but you are familiar in a completely different way. I don't claim I can remember all the details, it has already been... nine plus two makes sixteen, sixty one years? All the roads are open to a young man. In my case, lest I exaggerate, at least two. After all, at that time I had not yet turned my attention to women, I only formed this bad habit later on, in the course of active duty, and the Colonel is not to blame for that at all.
So when they told me: in the supreme interest of the country, in the name of the sacred Christian traditions represented by the imperial and royal crown... That I had been summoned by S.P.O.O.K himself, which was what we called him, the commander of the third, or was it the fifth?, three plus five, the eight department. He was standing with his back turned to the door, the Venetian blind was down... it went down by itself, all you needed to do was turn the door handle. Much worse, however, just between ourselves, was it, to pull it up.
Anyway, S.P.O.O.K... read as written periods are, of course, not to be read, with a period you can only lower your voice; one can't remember everything, but essential things, as for instance, the lowering of one's voice, become bred in the bone. It was the intelligence department... but I have already said that. Dear boy, that is what he called me every time we were alone; he put his arm round my neck in a friendly manner, he stood quite close to me, I felt how the hairs in his nose quivered and he was feeling my shoulder with his hand. I used to have strong shoulders... feel for yourself, even now; well, just have a feel. I exercised with the Sandow method.
Sandow, you probably don't know, was a sickly fellow suffering from his birth from rachitis, syphilis, scurvy, hay fever, and other things I hardly care to remember. His schoolmates, you know children, ridiculed him. Haven't you read that? Lest I should uselessly. Then he started exercising, and, one day, he lifted up their teacher complete with platform and blackboard. Of course, you should know, how well fed teachers used to be then... state service, eligible for a pension. It was during the math class, I remember it as if it happened today... Good book.
Curbing sensuality means standing one's ground in the face of temptation. I'm being a little vulgar. Take it as a poetic quibble. To love a man... is it an inferior being? With respect to pure value? But this is just an aside. The first thing was to forfeit love, except, of course, for the supreme love, love for an idea. Between ourselves, it is like sucking one's thumb, at worst one's big toe.
The room was suffused with the delicate scent of Katharsis perfume, now I'm talking about a different room, not about the intelligence department, the walls were draped with red leather glittering bloodily like a gaping wound.
Colonel, I called, hear out a hapless human being. To hear a confession sounds better, but I have reserved confession for communication with God. The emotion I invested in the words, all the pure streams gushing from a blooming young man's soul... the young man is me or at least was then.... in the bloom of youth, and sincere despair forced a blush into my normally pale face. There wasn't a dry eye. He had two of them. In this respect he was normal. The lens of his eyeglass glittered with a cold metallic sheen; it was, you most certainly surmise, bullet-proof.
Colonel, echoed my words marked with deep emotion, hear the confession of... I mean hear out a hapless fellow. I have long been resisting feelings stirring up confusion in my soul and tearing me apart; I, who since time immemorial...
Hold on, said the Colonel with a single imperious gesture of hand used to issuing orders. He had delicate hands with long manicured nails and a large gold ring on his left little finger. Treachery is requited with death. Where had we broken off? The hand alighted lightly on my shoulder and under its probing touch, trembling with the indication of a burgeoning understanding, I apprehended a strange similarity, coincidence, you might say, but it was too attractive to prevent an idea, that I initially found almost blasphemous, from fluttering through my mind. The hand that was growing heavier on my shoulder... later on I got 300 Crowns for that ring in a pawn shop, and it should be noted, that for 10 Crowns you could buy a decent pair of shoes. Three pounds of pork fat cost three Crowns... or seven? Seven plus three, seventy three. In many countries seven is considered a lucky number.
Before we get to the point, which, as I can see, weighs heavily upon your heart, and as the Colonel was saying those words, he brushed his human fingers lightly against the spot where under my muscle the most blue silk shirt the most human muscle pulsated, I don't have in mind the one you do, I mean the
one up on the left side. So first of all, the Colonel continued with a mild smile on his face which stood between me and his real thoughts as a thin but opaque curtain, let's drop these formal parts of garment which all too manifestly remind us of our social status and commitments, and allow me, to usher you to my parlor and offer you some simple refreshment, such as chance has garnered in the austere abode of a bachelor.
With these words he escorted me deeper into the bowels of his flat furnished, even by the standards of that era, with unusual, even astounding luxury.
I see, young friend, said the Colonel, and with a smile he pointed at an empirical... empire sofa draped with violet brocade, I can see that you are startled, let's put it a little immodestly, by the delicate taste and elegance you are seeing in the abode of a tough soldier, a man who spent his entire life amid the clash and clatter of arms.
At that moment an impartial observer would probably have called his smile ironic. If he, of course, could have slipped into the flat through the carefully locked door that had soundlessly closed behind me. Doors, dear friend, even then could close of their own volition and all the Colonel had to do was turn the key, quite inconspicuously... The left hand doesn't know what the right one is doing.
 


Az idézet forrásaOne Hundred Years of Slovak Literature

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