That the people who have lived a usual life know about melancholy! I mean, 
Certainly, duration of stay in a transitory cover, instead of quantity 
Sufferings and the misfortunes, fallen to a lot of this or that person. Only 
Time matters. Sometimes it seems to me, that time is and there is a melancholy. 
Seconds are weaved into the rarefied network, a hidden sticky web, which 
Catches reason; accumulating, being besieged in past, developing in years, 
Decades and centuries, seconds form a heavy oppressive veil, 
Impenetrable for a wind, the sun and music a shroud fabric in which it is turned 
My still live body. 
        Melancholy — condensed time. But not hardened like a wall 
Eternity. Bog. Bitumen, in which uvjazli thousand birds of my thoughts, desires 
And unrealizable hopes. To me already never to fly up, not to be pulled out from claws 
Destinies not to rise in the open space penetrated by light, not to feel 
Boundlessness of the world not to test pleasure, not to find belief. 
        My feelings are dulled. I too long float by this ship. I 
Too long I live among shades. I any more do not know, who I. Judging by the made 
Me to the notches densely speckling boards, my swimming lasts some centuries. 
Nobody lives so long. I do not require food and water. On the other hand, I 
I perceive a knife handle, ropes, wood, the slowly growing decrepit flesh. 
Improbably slowly... 
        Now I understand, that meant farewell words of the person, on favour 
Which I have appeared onboard "Dutch". I do not blame him. It was involuntary 
The tempter, the blind tool of a damnation. All of us — fingers of a multiarmed devil. 
To catch any of us, it is enough to it to stir a finger. 
        Probably, there is no place at ocean where this ship would not visit. No 
Wind which would not fill these ominous dark sails. There is no storm, under 
Which impact these old masts would not creak. There are no waters and fogs, 
Which would be not not moved apart by this wooden case not subject to rotting, 
Stuck round by bowls and seaweed, as if a cloak of the king of phantoms, 
Slowing down movement of the uncontrollable owner. 
        This ship floats everywhere from northern to southern ices. Probably, it 
Possesses supernatural property to appear simultaneously in the different 
The places separated from each other in thousand of miles and plates of continents, — but 
I see only as "realities" accumulate on imaginations, lose the 
Haughty claims for uniqueness also turn to illusions and dreams. 
        One only it is not allowed this ship — to stick or at least 
To come nearer to coast, to release from charms of the only thing live 
The passenger. 
        I am not assured, what is it EVIL SPELLS. Perhaps my weak spirit simply not 
Maintains burden of eternity and loneliness. Other mystics would envy 
To me. I am carried by through epoch, with identical ease escaping from darkness and 
From light. I the visitor in another's imaginations, I belong to the ship which is 
The illegitimate child of ridiculous legends, the exile of all measurements, 
Well of bad omens. 
        But worst of all beacons. Their light means inconceivable torture. Here when 
The damnation starts to work really. I am pinned to the black pulsing 
To wall of night light needle. Something light pink, writhing on a velvet... I — 
The impious parody to the crucifixion, and madness roars in my bone tower more purely 
Any hurricane. I am torn away from the networks which have entangled me, I fight in them, as 
Fish, but can relieve nothing of slavery — cold blood, 
The slippery scales which have covered a body outcast, force of blind fear, 
Which covers on the brink of changeable liquid desert. Demons wriggle and 
Dance round me. The command of shades lifts revolt, and grey foam of the melancholy 
Images of death covers a deck with set of the patterns, and through it 
Something else appears more awful — water, heavy, as if lead, 
Fallen asleep in lunar izlozhnitsah... 
        I have returned to life sources, having got rid from civilisation traps. 
Possibly, I have pleased together with the ship in a certain cavity in thickness of time, and for 
Me the same agonal minute lasts, lasts and lasts. But about it 
I know all. I am adhered to the bared essence and I can not run away, even if 
Wanted. However, why "if"? I and now would like to run away. And again 
To find innocence. But the paternoster chain is strong. It you will not break off a pray, 
Repentance. It too a part of the true, opened to me on other party 
Existence. Its other parts are insuperable loneliness, 
Irreparable fault, inescapable melancholy. Only dying we learn the truth. And also 
That deceived itself. 
        Now there is no deceit, but there is no also a vanity. I at times dream to appear again in 
To conditions of the petty auction with destiny to plunge into cheap calculations of a life, 
To become a pawn in game on which it is released only five or six tens 
Years. All is cold, as ice, dreams. In them is not present grana original feeling. 
Passions have died. Inclinations have died away, except for one, inflaming all 
More strongly. 
        Closing eyes, I see a black unshakable rock, about which 
razobetsja the ship of the damned. I represent it to myself in all details. 
I have almost erected its force of the imagination, have almost moved to this world 
From the unsteady country of images. The black rock rises to heavens, ripping up clouds 
And star bed curtains. Moonlight reflexions slide also powerlessness tears 
Roll down on a smooth surface. Nothing can be kept on the steep 
Walls — no trouble to be hooked even by thought, let alone, that 
To reach invisible top. 
        Rock — something bolshee, than a riddle of unattainable death. Wandering from 
Nights at night, from a nightmare in a nightmare, I continue to dream of it, as the pilgrim 
Dreams of a relic, knowing, that never will touch in what thinks 
To find rescue, disposal of illness or at least drowsiness. 

                        *    *    *

        It has begun about five hundred years ago. I have returned from war to the ruined 
Nest absolutely devastated. I have lost everything, except a life. Then I not 
Understood, that, means, really has lost nothing, except itself, and in 
Than did not see sense. Monsters in human shape inspired to me 
Insuperable disgust. I could not find a support neither in a new family, nor in 
To service, in career. Nothing had the slightest value. To me to guess 
In it freedom and independence which many vainly try to reach, but 
I felt only a black hole inside, devouring any light, even blinking 
Children's memoirs, the easiest, as wings of butterflies. About green meadows of mine 
Youth, you has sunk into the same insatiable to a drink, sacrificed molohu 
Disappointments! Where the hills covered with lilac colours, at wide open 
Earthly paradise gate? There was only a pain which is not calming down, invincible, sewing 
The heated wire of edge of days and the nights, doing them indistinguishable the friend from 
The friend... 
        I not spilsja also have not turned in fallen the tramp or the habitue 
Opium kurilen. The similar way of life would be same empty, as well as any 
Another. Book wisdom seemed me luscious before disgust. It suited 
For a consolation in the best times. The useless streams of words which are thrown up 
Preachers, reminded sounds of rattles with which adults try 
To distract sobbing greenhorns. Where I was, whoever met, I 
Saw in people only gun meat for the future wars. And silent wars, on 
Which they killed each other envy and hatred, proceeded always and 
Everywhere. Women — false, greedy, empty became the reason quite often 
Beings. 
        Why I have not committed suicide? Perhaps, I concerned those 
To spectators who by all means should see, than all will end, what 
And bad the life play would not be trite. And before a stage will fail, 
I wanted one: to find a lonely place where it would be possible to be fenced off from 
Madnesses of the world and to live the rest of the days in full isolation. Island 
It was represented by an ideal, and still I have been spoilt by a civilisation. Damage has eaten 
Too deeply. I yet have not reached line behind which the despair begins and 
Unceasing falling in a precipice. I tried to save human shape, 
Though could not tell what for. 
        Money for distant travel and searches of a treasured place were required. 
I have tried set of employment — from the pupil of the jeweller to the bookbinder. I 
Traded in old books and built bridges. At times I was close to poverty, but 
Day did not work on a slaughter-house. 
        When in a pocket a money was got, I have embarked and have left 
The native land — the old wasted whore. Me long carried on light. I have replaced 
It is a lot of ships — not always on the will. Some of them became 
The present floating prisons, but any did not go to any comparison with 
The ship of phantoms. So I was got involved in hopeless race in due course — 
The main and relentless enemy. It wins even dead, not speaking about 
The live... 
        Eventually I have appeared in the Christian mission located in 
To almost same far country as that, that was stored on bottom my shelf 
Memories. Here sufficed similar to me — brought by storm of destiny and 
The fragments cast ashore chelovekokrusheny. Someone searched oblivion, but 
The majority any more did not search for anything. 
        In mission I was late longer, than no matter where after war. I 
Has occupied an empty hut on an ocean coast. Old residents have told to me, that 
The person who was my predecessor, has died under strange circumstances. 
It have found choked, and the lump hammered in a drink became a cause of death 
Dense paper. When a paper have taken, it has appeared, what is it page from 
The logbook. And all anything, yes only the saved record was 
It is made more hundred fifty years ago. «Turned into true belief» 
Savages considered, what is it the message of the evil ghost who has condescended to explanations — 
Probably, out of respect for the white person. 
        Free huts sufficed, but I have not wanted anything to change. On the extreme 
To measure, mission was not threatened with an overpopulation. I liked a site of mine 
New dwelling if at all something "was pleasant". The Tongue of sand pressed 
Deeply in the sea, as if eternally empty mooring for sacred, and palm trees of nothing 
Reminded are there were simply palm trees. I did not see need in the property, 
Including a hut which considered as time shelter — it all 
Only protected from a rain. A mat, roughly hammered together stool and a table — it 
Quite sufficed. To me spoke, earlier there there was a huge thick Bible. Not 
I know, where it has got to. At any moment the elements could destroy all. So I 
Veins, not becoming attached to things and hours, and once time has stopped. 
        I have ceased to notice its current similar to a current of blood in vessels of a body. 
It any more was not blood of my life and even dry sand from the broken flask 
Hours. The calendar has turned to abstraction; it meant for me as a little, 
As efemeridy planets. 
        I avoided a local society, and it paid to me in the same coin. Even 
Those who has come to be in the very bottom, considered me as a stranger. Be ill I with a fever, 
I doubt, that to me would call the priest. I have appeared pariej and I can not 
To tell, what is it deprived of me a dream. No, the dream me was deprived absolutely by another. And 
To be rescued from it it was impossible anywhere. 
        Then I have drawn a simple conclusion, that, not existing separately, all world 
Is located in reason — all world and even something over it. And the God, and a devil 
Were parts of contents of this strange casket called with my consciousness, 
But I was not the owner and did not know, under whose influence comes to movement and 
The visible and tangible reality changes. If I forced myself 
To suffer, that prevented to open to me before itself paradise doors? From what 
The forgotten nightmares, from what treacherous depths of imagination I led 
To itself a shade of fears, presentiments of accidents as strung yet 
The come true troubles on a destiny thread? All was in my hands, but I rummaged them in 
To absolute darkness of ignorance, sufficing that has got, not guessing the original 
Purpose of what my growing cold fingers touched. 
        There is nobody to blame, except itself. That it for a monster — reason, 
Generating own executioners, inventing tortures both choosing day and hour 
The death? It forces us in the beginning to hope, like, with dream 
To direct in the future, however then dooms to wreck by it created 
Illusions. Also happens, in the end it sends the ominous visitor — the one whom 
We consider as the uttermost antipode, absolute "not th", broken away 
Piece of the hostile world which has found personification and has gone in 
Independent wandering, creating the new Universe of loneliness and horror. 
New and ANOTHER. That in which we remain forever strangers even if any 
By miracle we will move there — but for this purpose it is necessary to lose mind really. 

                        *    *    *

        My visitor was during a season of rains and hurricanes, when wind impulses 
Shook a hut, and its decayed roof was already incapable to protect oot 
Streams of water flowing from the sky. In such nights I found shelter in old 
The stone church, which door were not locked, because there there was nothing 
To steal. Nobody bothered me with the company — the others preferred all 
To be going to in other places. Rum banished their melancholy and warmed where better, 
Than crucifixions. 
        Once I have got into church and vainly tried to fall asleep on the rigid 
To bench. Some time I listened to the strange sounds reaching, 
As it seemed to me, from a chapel. They suggested about the bird who has got in 
Trap and beating wings. About bats. And about the ships... 
        More close by midnight on the lifted black sails my spirit has directed in 
The chaos which has been not held down neither dictatorship of time, nor walls surrounding me. That 
There was a rehearsal of my last swimming. The difference consisted only in that, 
That now the phantom drags behind itself a transitory flesh, rather the reverse, — as, 
As waves carry a creaking wooden skeleton though could bear only one 
Legend. 
        The church door was opened with a lingering scratch. A storm with enthusiasm 
Has rushed into the formed aperture. I did not use candles — darkness was 
For me rodnee mothers, but even she is not has sung a lullaby to my reason. 
Around there was a gloom, but it flared, generating visions and reviving the past. 
        I have felt presence. There was a stranger. I have not caught the moment, 
When the phantom has separated from an assembly similar, allocated with a flesh and blood, 
Voice and smell. Has taken hold of someone's wandering soul... Probably, it was 
Result of self-deception, megalomania — after all I applied for a role of the creator 
Illusions. Anyway, I have thought, as before rejected shades, which 
Itself did not learn, are there were all people met by me, including women, 
Old men, children. All those whom I liked, hated, despised, was afraid, not 
Noticed, — were only game of light and the darkness possessing extreme 
Persuasiveness. 
        As if in reply to my thoughts, the lightning has outside flashed. I have seen 
Black silhouette in three-four metres from itself, partially covering vitrazhnoe 
Window. I would be at a loss to tell, WHOSE it was a silhouette — men or women, 
Whether it in general belonged to the person. Clearly, because of a roar of a storm the stranger 
Went quietly. The thought has for some reason flashed, that it could, having 
Corresponding intention, free to kill me. For example, to stick 
Knife in heart. Simply so, without the reason known to me. Unless absurd death 
Not the best acknowledgement of absurdity of a life? But that time I have not received 
Proofs of this theorem. 
        Long time entered did nothing and did not say words. I not 
I will remember more exhausting silence. I felt so as if has come to be 
In absolutely dark den of any animal. And an extending smell 
It has appeared the extremely unpleasant — precisely storm waves have cast ashore 
Dead fish. 
        But by and large to me it was indifferent, who it has decided to take cover in 
Churches. Apparently, both of us did not test requirement for a pray and in 
Human society. The nights filled up with an avalanche overtaken by a bad weather, 
Facing to mute creeds, we remained far, as stars 
Northern and southern heavens... 
        At last the one whom I considered as an iceberg part, almost entirely 
Shipped in cold and impenetrable for reason of water of life, has touched 
To me. I have involuntarily shuddered: the being has given out nothing of the approach 
Or possessed finitenesses of improbable length. At least, proceeding 
From it the smell has not amplified, and, besides, in old church sufficed 
Draughts which could be confused with damp fingers. 
        The stranger has silently, unpleasantly laughed, and for some reason the storm has seemed 
Only accompaniment to his laughter though a wind and waves roared many times over 
More loudly. Should be, it has estimated my involuntary shudder, mine 
Fastidiousness, characteristic at all for the fallen. It has received a sign on that, 
As I understand now, have found a suitable material. For this purpose it were not necessary for it 
Words. So rats, meeting in a gloom of industrial labyrinths, learn 
About intentions each other. 
        In turn I too have received an alienation sign. It contained in 
The silence despising human stadnost, aspiration to divide with 
Someone indivisible weight sushchestvvanija to see at least for an instant same 
Suffering in mirrors which persons and eyes are. But THERE there were no eyes. Was 
Only something expecting in darkness my fatal flaw, steadily following 
To predetermination and possessing a voice of dirty conscience. 
        It has asked: 
        — You wish to finish all it? 
        — I do not require your services. 
        — E-e is not present, the brother, do not tell. Very few people refused my services. 
        Conversation became not that that interesting — more likely amusing. On 
To extreme measure, now was not so boringly to wait for a dawn among the impenetrable 
Storm night. But it is possible, the intrigue has arisen only because I did not know, 
Who has got with me conversation, and did not see the person of the stranger. If at it in general 
There was a PERSON... 
        — It seems, I guess, that you will demand in exchange. 
        Darkness has responded the same cold laughter: 
        — How much time I heard similar nonsense! Similar, it becomes 
Platitude... You exaggerate the importance, the brother. However, it 
It is peculiar to all of you. Think itself to whom it is necessary your damned dushonka, and that 
More your bones and meat which will exist at the best as early as years 
Twenty-thirty? I help such as you, are exclusive from love. 
        — From love to whom? 
        — To itself, certainly. After all destiny roads converge in one place, and 
You managed far not the worst. I have passed their hundreds, but always 
I come back to a crossroads. You know, it fairly bothers. Especially, if 
The end is known for a long time and then all repeats again. 
        — Then that you sell? 
        — A place by the ship. Only one place for the live. And, besides, 
It is not on sale. It cannot be received not for the world. I am ready 
To concede the. 
        — What for? I have no place to float. Everywhere same. 
        — Gold words. I understand and entirely I divide. This mean has grown hateful 
World? I promise, that you any more will not see it. All human nasty thing and 
Vanity pass you. The proud pettiness owning a land, will disappear in a precipice 
Centuries. You not subject to low passions, will observe from afar for them 
soshestviem in a hell. Winners and won will pass by you and will sink completely 
In time abyss. It is the ship for the philosopher who does not interest any more 
True for true — the illegitimate daughter of mind, and mind reminds for a long time me 
The crutch of the beggar calling pity and helping to elicit a handout near 
Closed door from which anybody does not have key. 
        — It is ready to argue, as at you it is not present. 
        — Correctly. I saw, how it has been thrown out in ocean hundred thousand years ago, 
When in a brain of ancient creation the first shade of UNDERSTANDING has flown. 
        And here I have thought: really, what waits for me ahead? An old age in 
To loop of the memoirs similar to an echo in emptiness. Some more hundreds declines and 
Sunrises with their infinite variety of paints and forms and monotony 
Repetitions. Heart-rending cries false gazetenok and lulling whisper of the useless 
Books. Wars and the ubiquitous power of money poisoning love and friendship, 
Getting into the most idyllic corners and in the purest hearts. 
        —... If you accept my offer any more you will not see even 
Me, — the stranger has promised. 
        It also has solved business. Not to see anybody with anybody not to breathe one 
Air but to observe of how all marks of history as are erased 
There are a dust "eternal" cities as the planet clears the body from 
Scabs... I have chosen a life among phantoms for which are equally insignificant 
The past and the future and side between them it is erased. 
        The storm not clear is literally a same minute when I have given the consent, 
In the image has suddenly settled, and an hour later I have risen aboard the unknown 
The ship which stood without uniform fire in mile from coast. But before 
The stranger spent me to that place (in my opinion, to the least convenient), 
Where among stones the boat with two silent sailors waited. For me 
Remains riddle as these two managed to stick, not having broken about rocks. 
They have been strange dressed, and their persons have seemed not less strange at light 
The opened moon. But then I have decided, that so even it is better. Any other world — 
Real or imagined, occupied by mystical beings, — was 
More preferably it. 
        Sailors have sat down on oars, the stranger which shape was not in 
Condition to recreate and the moon, has pushed away the boat from coast, and after some 
Seconds its silhouette has merged with shades — but is possible, it from them and did not separate. 
Anyway, it has twice constrained the word: first, took nothing 
For "services", and secondly, I am more never than it saw. 
         Nobody has met me onboard. I have chosen to myself a free cabin — 
Approximately the same as has once chosen a hut ashore. By the ship is not present 
The captain — at least, I did not see anybody who would suit for this role. 
And what for the captain on a vessel which unique cargo is 
Damnation, the unique passenger — the restless wanderer, the only thing 
Port of destination — the eternity end? 
        Since then my unceasing swimming proceeds. I repeatedly 
Has bypassed all ship, but every time I find out unfamiliar passes and 
Premises as if the labyrinth continuously grows in hold and varies. Sometimes me 
Overcome visions — I see phantoms of various degree of density. Possibly, 
These are those who has ever visited number of passengers. To me came across on eyes 
Ridiculous figures in suits trehsotletnej prescription, but, that is much more terrible, 
At times my sight finds in these dissolved by acid of time substances 
Lines which, undoubtedly, belong to the future. 
        About what fruits are brought by the Iron Age, I can judge on 
To the changed forms of the ships which occasionally I see at open ocean, and 
To the metal birds who are carried by in the sky. Happens, they are started up in the vain 
Pursuit of me. Contrary to the widespread legends, similar 
Meetings do not foretell them FAST  destruction — that two mean any or 
Three ten years! The stranger and here has appeared the rights. Black spirals of hurricanes 
Reliably hide me from persecutors to whom it is necessary 
To be disappointed in the weapon. They are steel or titanic monsters — 
Reliable and unsinkable. The elements happen are powerless against them, but time 
Devours all. Probably, even to me not to wait the end of its meal, when it 
Will satisfy the voracious appetite.