<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Translated by Meruzhan Harutyunyan<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The water was purling through its thin bed as if tiny pebbles were rushing down from under the feet of a mountain goat. The grass blades of the brook bank were folding and unfolding in the water. And Haykaz\u2019s face was folding and unfolding too, with the rhythm of the water. When it folded it had wrinkles, and when it unfolded the wrinkles remained. He was very old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His neighbor was sitting on a round rock outside the fence, with his grandchild, who held a noisy toy in one hand, sitting in his lap. And the neighbor tapped the child\u2019s hand that held the toy against his palm and softly sang a nursery rhyme. Though he looked as if he were sitting idly, he was watching the water that irrigated the gardens and was shared equally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was not much water. Only an hour, or two, or three … Haykaz stared at the blades of grass as they folded and unfolded, and he also stared at a frog that was jumping out of the water on to the grass and then back into the water. The cicadas were chirping incessantly and their shrill sound intensified the heat of the day. The shining sun had started to dance on the brook, but neither the water nor the sun managed to change the other\u2019s temperature. Ripe yellow sunflower petals dropped on the water and glided away. Birds flew over the gardens. Their shadows did not have time to fold and unfold, as they disappeared so very fast. But the water caught their shadows, mixed them with the yellow sunflower petals, and carried them away. The donkey, browsing on the hillside and tired of the long sun, let out a long bray and broadcast its vulgar voice over the village, like church bells. Haykaz stood up. Then he dug up a piece of turf from a grass root and edged the root to another. He was watering. And again, an hour, or two, three, or four… He watched the thirsty soil drink the bubbling water, bursting the bubbles as it drank. He saw how the sky crossed over the brook without wetting its feet. He observed the donkey\u2019s voice fuse, trembling, with the water and leaves. He watched his face folding and unfolding in the water. Then the brook grasped the mingled shadows and leaves, but his face remained, swaying over the rippled water. Then he suddenly began to complain about life: \u201cHow do you ruin a man\u2019s life?\u201d Then he heard a tap, tap, tap. He looked around. Yes, the water would keep purling, the cicada would keep chirping, the frog would keep splashing, the donkey would keep braying, the child would keep singing, and his toy and the scarecrow would remain as before!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The spread hands of the patchy scarecrow had rotted. And although there was no wind, for no reason at all they cracked, dropped, and fell to the ground. As they fell, unable to drop their weapons, they carried the two willow brooms with them. Their fall broke a few sunflower necks, but left the scarecrow\u2019s head unharmed on its stick. The ugly face, with its ugly nose and mouth, had been drawn in machine paint, and the head was planted atop a stick, now armless and broomless, as if an emblem of disgrace. Haykaz stopped watering and rushed to the severed arms, which lay on the ground amidst the sunflowers, and picked them up. He was saddened. He respected the scarecrow. The fellow had stood there since the Communist days, for more than thirty or forty years: stood on duty, keeping watch over the sunflowers and scaring away the hostile crows. Haykaz had made the scarecrow, firmly tying its ugly head to the three-year-old poplar trunk with a piece of wire near where its nonexistent neck should have been. He had regretted cutting the poplar down. It had been tall, and on windy days it had spread cotton flakes and worms on the fruit trees. But he had had to: it was destroying the crop. For a long time, the poplar had served as the scarecrow\u2019s handsome body and produced neither crop nor shade. It had always stood there, on a splendid elevation in the garden, and like God it could see everything, without interfering with anything. And for so many years it had neither spoken, nor hollered, nor threatened, nor punished. And it had always been there, and the birds were afraid of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
First, Haykaz picked up the broken sunflower heads and laid them on the grass. He would give them to the neighbor\u2019s grandchildren: they were from the city, and had to buy sunflower seeds in tiny cups. Then he picked up the arms. He had barely put his knee to them when the<\/p>\n\n\n\n
straight stick that had served as the right qrm split in two. But the brooms were well preserved. He untied the wire and laid the brooms beside the sunflower heads. He would try, perhaps, to sweep the yard with them. He removed the scarecrow\u2019s coat. It had been his, the one he used to wear when he was a driver, the black one with red stripes, made of good material. He had not worn it for more than three months. His friends used to ask him, mockingly: \u201cWhere did you get that majestic coat of yours?\u201d It was not suitable for his job. He did not feel comfortable wearing it behind the wheel. So he had taken it off and put it on the scarecrow, which had worn a dress that belonged to his wife before that the dress she had burnt while baking bread. \u201cNow, this female scarecrow has become a male,\u201d he had said to himself while getting rid of his coat, and had laughed. \u201cHow everything in this world changes! There are people who change sex simply by changing their clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now the coat was totally worn out and faded. One could not distinguish between the red and black. Beaten by rain and exposed to the sun, it had turned a kind of gray. The wind had scattered it with dirt and dust and it was covered with bird droppings, which looked like rows of medals and decorations. He tugged at its sleeves; they had not frayed too much. It had been made in Romania. Sadness covered his face when he recalled his life. He had been a well-known, skilled driver and worked for the government. He had been sent abroad. He had had the means to buy many precious things, enjoy himself, and relax on the beaches of Russia. He fervently pressed the coat to his chest. He happily remembered how he had looked for a present for his wife in a seaside-resort shop, with Russian girls hanging from his arms. In the end he had bought her a two-piece bathing suit. His mother had teased him until the end of her days: \u201cYou went to the end of the world and came back with half a pair of underwear. Why was my daughter-inlaw\u2019s arse left hanging out in the breeze?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He examined the coat carefully. God is great<\/em>, he thought. The days were getting colder, the mornings bore the scent of snow, and he had no warm clothes. He shook the dust off the coat and examined it again. All the buttons were there and the lining was still good, not terribly worn. He checked the pockets: who knows? he might have left some money in them. He took a handkerchief; folded in four, with threadbare corners, from the right pocket. There was a hole in the other pocket, but he could not care less; he had nothing to put in it anyway; he had no need for a pocket. They had sold everything so they could survive this famous independence. They had only this tiny piece of land<\/p>\n\n\n\n and four walls left, but nobody would ever buy it. People were leaving their properties behind and going abroad to make a living. Who would pay good money for such shitty, barren walls? He continued to examine the coat. \u201cWhat do you say! It\u2019s still in good condition.\u201d There were sparrow and crow droppings on the shoulders, which had dried in the sun and become completely petrified, like limestone, forming four- rageres, left and right, on both shoulders. It did not really matter. \u201cA general of the vegetable fields!\u201d He smiled at the scarecrow. He wiped the droppings off with his palm and scrubbed the ones that were more tenacious with his nails. Then he shook it out over the water. \u201cIt\u2019s fertilizer; it\u2019ll feed the gardens!\u201d It did not make sense to buy a new coat in such impoverished times. His family had not received their pension for so many months. If it were not for grass and greens, they would have starved to death. For half the year they ate fresh greens, and for the other half they consumed dried grass, like animals. Life had not always been like this: war, famine, dogs, and officials who were worse than dogs. No joy or happiness. People attended weddings as if they were going to funerals, quietly and dismally. Who would notice or question why he was wearing this coat? Was this life? Going to bed at night and waking up in the morning! Three or four people in one bed, and before falling asleep they wondered which Armenian mountain would be sold the next day, and for how much. Others dreamed of a morning that would never dawn, so that they would not be bothered with the problems of life. \u201cThis is our daily prayer. What is left is only a void and an empty soul. And fortunately that is in the hands of God; otherwise we would have given it up too …\u201d He stopped brooding. He shook the coat again and noticed that there were still dried droppings around the rims of the pockets. They looked like gray tears. \u201cI got rid of them, didn\u2019t I?\u201d he said, as if satisfied. Then he thrust his thumb between his index and middle fingers and rudely planted his fist under the nose of the confused scarecrow stuck on the long rod, the nose at which the rain had spit continuously over the years, while sudden gusts of wind slapped at its head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As he shook the droppings off the coat, he remembered his dying, consumptive godfather, who had become a skeleton. And he reflected that in a country where nature and the officials were equally cruel and the best food was water, living is harder than dying. Then he stared at the bare arms that had fallen off the scarecrow and asked himself, what if he were to bury them, just for fun. Then he imagined himself erecting a cross over the tomb, and smiled. Yes, and he would even carve an epitaph on it: \u201cHere lie particles of the universe, the arms of a scarecrow, whose souls arc now with God,” 11c laughed out loud. He did not know why the scarecrow\u2019s rotted arms and those of his dead, consumptive godfather seemed identical in his mind. And he devoted the utmost attention to the question of which would rot first, the coffin or the body it contained. And so he dropped the idea of burying the arms. He would place them under the stairs and keep them there to use as kindling at another time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then he looked into the running water of the brook and scrutinized his reflection from head to toe. He beat and shook the dust off the coat, then put it on. And as if standing in front of a mirror, he turned a little to the right, and observed himself in the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt suits you well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The strange voice made him shudder. It was the postman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDoes it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBelieve me. It\u2019s a wedding coat, the best,\u201d insisted the postman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz was delighted to hear the praise and said, \u201cAll right then, whenever you go anywhere important, I\u2019ll lend it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThank you, my friend, but I have nowhere to go. I used to go to town once a year to collect the pensions, but they\u2019ve stopped now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow, does your visit mean that you\u2019ve brought them today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, it doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou haven\u2019t brought any money. What use are you to me?\u201d Haykaz took off the coat and placed it under his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI came to let you see that I want to do my work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTake this,\u201d said the old man and pulled one of the sunflower heads from off the grass, handed it to him, and laughed. \u201cNow, let me retire you from service,\u201d he smiled: \u201cevery time you come and go, you wear your shoes out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The postman took the sunflower. He removed the stamens from the flower disk, which had been a landing pad for the bees all summer long. But the bees had not taken all the pollen, and his palm was stained yellow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m just dying for fresh seeds,\u201d said the postman, spitting out the shells through his teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeeds or semen?\u201d asked Haykaz jokingly, looking at his lips, which had turned black from the seeds. Then he held the postman\u2019s arm firmly and whispered into his ear, \u201cIs it true that you do it with your step-daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The postman stepped back, horrified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re mad. You come out with things and scare people to death,” Then he thrust his thumb under his wide belt, pulled it out loosely, and asked. \u201cNow tell me, can a man like this, do it with a woman? Don\u2019t you see? I put in a piece of clastic to keep it tight,\u201d and he released the belt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz went into the garden and directed the water into another bed, then led the postman to the gate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you listen to the radio? What\u2019s going on in the world?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The postman tip-toed carefully over the damp grass. \u201cOh, nothing special. The world\u2019s doing just fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you think the U.S. wants to rule the world?\u201d asked the old man, stretching out his leg like a pissing dog to let the water run off his shoe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPerhaps.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd Russia?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho doesn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs it true that the U.S. has come to help … to give the pensioners flour and vegetable oil?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, it is, but the flour is full of worms and the oil is rancid,\u201d he said, and stepped out into the yard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd why so little?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know; they say we\u2019re a third-world country.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd the first and second worlds?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPerhaps they<\/em> are,\u201d laughed the postman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome on, go easy,\u201d Haykaz tried to reassure the man: \u201cWe\u2019re one of the first in God\u2019s order. If they give out their aid parcels, bring the flour here. We\u2019ll bake bread and give it to the dog, the wretched thing. It didn\u2019t even bark when you arrived, did it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The postman looked at the stone doghouse where the dog was lying. Its ears were white and the rest of it was black. The postman said, \u201cIt\u2019s so starved you can count its ribs. Never mind a friend, it couldn\u2019t even bark at an enemy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old man made wet footprints in the dry dust as he went over to the dog house and, groaning, dropped to his knees and untied the dog, \u201cWhy aren\u2019t these animals herbivorous? Go now, take a little walk and catch rats and mice in the fields. But come home in the evening,\u201d he advised the animal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt might better go down to the lake,\u201d said the postman. \u201cThere was a terrible wind last night and the waves might have thrown frogs and fish on to the shore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The dog swayed like a newborn calf and sat down in front of the dog house. Haykaz worried, “Is it going to die?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, no, don\u2019t you worry,\u201d said the postman, \u201cIt\u2019s just not used to freedom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz\u2019s old wife saw the postman\u2019s head from under the tree where she sat and dropped the herb leaves from her lap. She was plaiting them together to dry for the winter. She was bent over by the salt in her joints and advanced age. She approached them, rubbing her calcified and warped knee joints. Before reaching the postman she decided that if he had brought her pension for the past two months she would go to the neighboring village and visit her sick sister. She even thought of the present she would like to take her: macaroni, but not Persian- that caused diarrhea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow is the little lady? Is her pressure up?\u201d the postman asked politely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPressure isn\u2019t pension. It\u2019s pension that doesn\u2019t go up,\u201d said Haykaz, and told his wife, \u201cNo money; he\u2019s come to say there\u2019s no hope.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat can I do?\u201d asked the postman, shrugging. \u201cIt\u2019s not a government.\u201d He stopped for a moment. He did not want to be impolite in the presence of a woman. In his mind he tried to give his swear words a certain literary distinction and said, \u201cAll of them are bungling, greedy officials; they know nothing about law and respect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz stretched out his hand, picked out a few sunflower seeds, put them all into his mouth, chewed them, and swallowed his saliva.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere\u2019s only one comfort,\u201d he said, briskly, spitting out the shells at his feet: \u201cEvery state lives longer than its self-appointed officials.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow, even the brainless scarecrow governs an entire garden; they aren\u2019t even scarecrows!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis very land,\u201d said the old man, and stamped his feet, \u201chas no lack of brains … intelligent people. But this land lacks honesty and has no conscience. For instance, an ass has no brains either, but it has a conscience before God and performs its duty honestly, carrying its load to the end. Take Hitler. Who can say he was stupid? Could a stupid man conquer the world? So you\u2019re better off with an ass over you than a Hitler. At least you can ride an ass and go wherever you want. But them? There\u2019s nothing worse than an evil man with brains; he becomes the Devil himself. It\u2019s impossible to bring him up, or reform him, or make him honest; he should just be destroyed. Unfortunately you can\u2019t fight universal evil with mere human power.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow that you mention it, I remember our poor old veterinarian. How can they do such things?\u201d said the postman angrily. \u201cThe man can\u2019t stand on his feet. He\u2019s dizzy and his knees tremble. Naturally, he has had no bread or sugar for years. Yes, and he\u2019s going to die soon.\u201d \u201cAnd I\u2019ve heard,\u201d said the old woman horrified, \u201cthat the sons of our valiant soldiers in Yerevan have to steal and the daughters have to become prostitutes. There\u2019s no other way to survive in this country.\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t know the half of it, sister. Children are shipped abroad from the orphanages, as if they were gold bars. And there they\u2019re taken apart like old machines, and aged millionaires buy their organs to replace their sick hearts or diseased lungs. And in Europe they make top-quality perfume from little boys\u2019 testicles. Oh, my God, who would have expected this from Europe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, my Lord!\u201d exclaimed the woman in utter dismay, and she covered her mouth with her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat a shitty world and what a shitty humanity,\u201d said the postman, and he opened his arms wide as if to contain the world between them. \u201cEven God couldn\u2019t imagine such cruelty; He\u2019d be shocked if He knew about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They stood at the gate and grieved for the old veterinarian as if mourning one who had recently died. The old couple remembered how the old vet had taken care of their hen\u2019s broken leg, bandaging it. And to express her gratitude the hen had laid a dozen eggs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then the postman said goodbye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After he left, Haykaz put the coat back on, to show it to his wife. \u201cI took it off our scarecrow; his arms were rotting and they dropped off like rotten teeth,\u201d The old man laughed and patted the old, gray coat. \u201cHow does it look?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wife stared coldly at the figure of her husband wrapped in the weather-ravaged coat: \u201cThe shoulders sag a little, and your bones are rotten, too,\u201d she said, as if discerning the passing of the years. \u201cBut it\u2019s good; the scarecrow is ours and the coat is too, so there\u2019s no shame.\u201d Haykaz sat under the lilac tree for about an hour, smoking his raw tobacco. He almost choked on the bitter smoke a few times, and coughed hard. He wiped his watery eyes until the old woman, moaning heavily now and then, had finished plaiting the herbs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A bee, its bum turned to heaven, poked its face and nose into the soul of a potted flower which was sunning itself on the ledge, digging and rubbing its feet on the petals. It needed nectar. Haykaz stared at the bee, thinking of life, until his wife finished her work. Then the couple put the herb plaits on their shoulders, carried them to the house, and hung them from the window handles. Then the old woman look some warm water and an old sock and wiped the filth from the coat. She washed the whole collar. Then she placed it on a chair. “It’ll dry by morning,\u201d she said a few times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the evening they put some thyme in boiled water and drank it as tea. The wife complained that she couldn\u2019t close her eyes at night. \u201cMy head is cold,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour blood doesn\u2019t circulate properly; it must be upsetting you,\u201d Haykaz concluded, and went into the kitchen. There he found an old tin box of candies, left over from Soviet times, and he also discovered some white vitamin A tablets. He used to give them to the sheep to prevent diarrhea. The expiration date on the bottle had passed. He brought it and a glass of water to his wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s a sedative; it\u2019ll make you sleep. Drink it; it\u2019ll help your circulation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wife swallowed the vitamin, gazing at her husband in gratitude. Haykaz took the glass back to the kitchen and returned, rubbing his hands to warm them. He was shivering. His bones were cold. Autumn was coming. The wind would frighten them again, beating against the windows; it would cry and whistle outside, tearing the leaves off the trees, and they would wrap themselves in blankets and drink boiled water to warm their frozen blood. And it was quite possible that on the coldest day of winter they would have no more boiled water, and all their wood, kerosene, papers, and books would have already been depleted. There would only be organic things left to burn: their own bodies, and passports-of the sickly citizens of the respectable Republic of Armenia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He took the old carpet out of the closet and put it on his shoulders. Years ago, they used to spread it over the apple boxes to protect them against the cold. Then he went into the bedroom. On his way he clapped his hands in the air, killing a moth. Then he called, \u201cThere arc still four days to autumn, but it\u2019s cold in the house, just like winter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere hasn\u2019t been any heat for years; what do you expect? And don\u2019t forget the dampness from the lake,\u201d cried the old woman from behind the steam of the herbal tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd the floor is rotten. It stinks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He came back from the bedroom and drank the herbal tea, warming his palms by holding his cup firmly in both hands. Then he set the cup down carefully and exclaimed in a low hiss, \u201cSons of bitches! Who do they think they are, those bloody bastards, to humiliate me with my own stomach?” and with a majestic gesture he threw a little cloth bundle on the table. A few American dollar bills fell out of the package and a click was heard. It was a gold piece that made the click.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m going to town tomorrow, for food,\u201d the old man said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wife stared at him. Her eyes shone in the cold. \u201cDid you borrow that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFrom whom?\u201d Haykaz swallowed back the swear word, and instead moved his lips angrily, \u201cThese bastards have turned the country into a land of beggars like themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The woman fixed her cold stare on him, as if on a void, like the autumnal skies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is that <\/em>money,\u201d he said in answer to the woman\u2019s frozen stare, as if holding the word that<\/em> in the highest regard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat<\/em> money?\u201d the old woman repeated as she untied the bundle. \u201cOur christening crosses! The money we got by selling the meat from the lambs that died in the cold stable! And we were keeping it for our funeral.\u201d She stroked the content of the bundle. \u201cBut what can you buy with this? There isn\u2019t even enough to buy two coffins.\u201d She looked distressed. \u201cTo eat our eternal rest in a day and then run to the toilet! And… the crosses? The crosses aren\u2019t just made of gold; they\u2019ve been blessed. We can\u2019t sell them!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere\u2019s just one thing we can\u2019t do at the moment. We can\u2019t die. Whatever we have to do to stay alive is just fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEven sell articles that have been blessed?\u201d The surprised old woman covered the money and the crosses with her palm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz ground his teeth. \u201cWe have to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe\u2019ll manage without this,\u201d said the old woman, who did not like the idea of giving up the shiny coffins and scented candles from Yerevan, the light of which attracted the angels. \u201cWe\u2019ve lived well enough for eighty years; can\u2019t we live a bit longer the same way? If we can\u2019t put up with it, what will the children inherit? They haven\u2019t had much of a life at all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYour soul will live on, but what about your body? Don\u2019t you see we\u2019re very old?\u201d Haykaz was persuading his wife, without looking at her eyes. \u201cDo you want to end up like the old veterinarian, who can\u2019t even stand on his own feet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd do you want us to be like the old couple in the next block, taken away quietly in the middle of the night, with no coffins, and dumped into a hole and covered over with a bit of earth, like cat shit?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou don\u2019t have to go that far. Let\u2019s hope the Lord will be kinder when He calls us. He was when He brought us into this life.\u201d The old man removed his wife\u2019s wrinkled hand from the bundle, wrapped everything in the cloth, and put it in the pocket of his scarecrow coat, which was drying on the chair. A paper folded into four remained on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd keep our will in a safe place,\u201d the old man said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIn a pillow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIn a pillow or any other safe place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman promptly put the paper in her pocket. \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t leave the house to our boys,\u201d she said. Will they leave their Americas and Europes and come back here to live among rocks, snakes, and scorpions? We should leave it to the old-age home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe old people there have already lived their lives and earned their share of Heaven or Hell; they have one foot here and the other in Heaven. What good is our house to them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut then our house will have no one to look after it. You know how hard we worked to put it up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt won\u2019t come to that, don\u2019t worry. Our boys will come back home. A man can be fed in strange lands, but he can never be happy.\u201d \u201cBut arc you sure they\u2019ve gone there for happiness? They might be there to fill their stomachs, and that\u2019s enough to live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGod only knows.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGod has become poor, and so have we. How would He know?\u201d \u201cOkay, get on your feet now,\u201d the old man replied, patting her on the shoulders to encourage her. \u201cLet\u2019s go to bed before it gets completely dark. It\u2019s harder to move around in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe man from the electricity department says we have to pay at least a couple of dollars before we can have our electricity back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA couple of dollars is a lot of money. We could buy three loaves of bread and some butter for that. Where are we supposed to find that kind of money?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman shuffled her old feet into the bedroom. While her husband went to the door, closed it with a loud bang, and locked it, she picked up the pillows from the bed, fluffed them to make them softer, and thrust them under the blankets without removing the cover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe roost with the hens,\u201d she said jokingly. \u201cAnd this damned insomnia. Thinking and thinking and thinking … all night long. I feel my heart rise in my throat until I can feel it in my mouth; it\u2019s worse than dying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat more do you want?\u201d said her husband seriously: \u201cYou have something in your mouth to chew on. And you won\u2019t suffer from hunger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz slipped under the blanket without taking his clothes off. Then he bellowed: \u201cOuf!\u201d God, it\u2019s cold! Don\u2019t take your clothes off either: let the bed get a little warmer; then you can undress.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy undress?\u201d The shivering old woman slipped under the blanket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz, stammering from the cold, continued, \u201cLife was as cold as this only when my mother died. The poor woman went out to the stable to water the animals and died there, at the manger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe was very lucky,\u201d said the old woman enviously, \u201cto die living. And we live dying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, oh, take it easy!\u201d Haykaz was shivering under the blanket. He blew into his palms for about half an hour, warming himself with his own breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The woman said, \u201cI had a vision of my grandfather yesterday, exactly at midnight. He died young, as you know. I didn\u2019t know if it was a dream. He was sitting in the yard, on the grass, and breaking apricot stones. He asked me how I was. I sighed and told him that we were barely managing to stay alive. Then he broke a stone, split it in two, gave me one half and took the other himself, and asked me to give his regards to the folks at home. And I wished him well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As if in answer to these greetings from beyond, Haykaz snored and snorted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, Oh,\u201d pronounced the old woman and, resigning herself to suffering through another sleepless night, she pressed herself tightly against her husband, hoping to get warmer. \u201cWhy did you untie the dog?\u201d she asked. \u201cIt would be rattling its food bowl and making some noise, and I wouldn\u2019t feel so lonely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the morning Haykaz put on the scarecrow coat and his pointed shoes, which had trodden all over Europe. The pointed shoes were unbelievably narrow and long. They had been left behind by their young neighbor, who had married a woman from Moscow. The woman was five years older than he. When the young man came to say goodbye to his parents, he left his shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAll Europe is wearing shoes like this,\u201d said the neighbor, to justify their impertinent long-pointedness when he gave them to Haykaz. \u201cThey aren\u2019t my size,\u201d he added, \u201cbut they\u2019re brand new; it\u2019d be a shame to throw them away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside in the yard, the old woman noticed a few more bird droppings on the back of the coat.. She had not been wearing her glasses when she had cleaned it. She brushed them off. “Good!\u201d She was pleased.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Haykaz put his hands in his pockets and walked to the gate. He was holding the handkerchief in the pocket and planning what he would buy for the cold autumn and winter. He looked satisfied. Then he turned his head and asked. \u201cHave we got a kerosene can?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman, who was standing on the steps, nodded. Haykaz smiled and kept walking. After a while he stopped, turned around, and asked: \u201cHave we got a safe place to keep the flour, away from the mice?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, yeah,\u201d the wife replied, smiling. She watched him for a few minutes and decided to wave at him, as she used to, if he turned around again, but he did not. He took his wrinkled old hands out of his pockets, folded them behind his back, and walked on. He reached the gate. He pulled on the iron door to open it, but it did not cooperate. The old man stopped, took a deep breath, sighed deeply, and tried it again; it opened. Then he cautiously lifted his foot, passed through the gate, and left it open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman noticed how the sky was suddenly dotted by a flock of birds that thrashed the air over her head. She was worried for the sunflowers. Would the birds notice that the scarecrow had lost its arms? She stopped watching the sky and shouted after her husband: \u201cDon\u2019t forget the sugar!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Without looking back, the old man lifted his hand as if in greeting, to signal that he had heard her. Then he kicked a stone with the tip of his shoe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The old woman watched her husband walk away. She was saying the Lord\u2019s Prayer to herself. She kept watching him and when she reached the words: \u201c…for Thine is the kingdom,\u201d she stopped and thought in horror: \u201cAmen.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Translated by Meruzhan Harutyunyan The water was purling through its thin bed as if tiny pebbles were rushing down from…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":952,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[103,52],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-948","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories","category-works"],"yoast_head":"\n