"It will be twenty-eight degrees in Kyiv today, west wind; barometer shows that another pleasant spring day is ahead of us. It seems that summer has already come, but no: wait quite a bit and we’ll all bathe in the sun on paradise beaches. As for other events... "
"Why do they always talk only about the weather in Kyiv?" - the idea troubled the brain’s gray matter just like that and coerced into thinking.
Really, why? Aren’t there any other cities on the map?..

Breeze blew softly. Thank God for this! The heat was unbearable ...
It was spring. And they all were waiting for summer. Such beautiful time of the year! Such warm... Such hot... Sizzling... Season... Summer.
It will come. Be sure to come! It’ll come unexpectedly. Like the rain that comes not where they wait for it, but where they reap, not where they call for it, but where they mow.
That summer is the same. It’ll come - and soon the whole world cheers up.
Summer will be hot, with no wind, stuffy...
That will come a time of the sun, holidays, a time of the summer storms, a time of chocolate (‘cause of ultraviolet) bodies, a time of lightning and thunder, a time of green crowns of the trees, flowering time and luxuriance of all the living, a time of all-possible smells, a time of blue sky and golden ears of wheat, a time of smiles and whines, a time of cheerful running and broken arms and knees, a time of the field work and sunstroke, a time of rest and thefts, a time of taking photos and painting, a time of hiking in the mountains and broken limbs, a time of swimming and drowning, a time of fern blooming and broken dreams...
It’s such a good time that summer!

I was said so.
‘Bout summer.
This is how it was described to me.
But I’ll never see it, nor meet, nor feel.

Summer will never give me neither a handful of wild strawberries, or cherry twin earrings on my ears, nor the pleasant aroma of night-scented stocks and roses in the garden...

Summer won’t come.
Not to me.
Neither today. Nor tomorrow... Never.
So - why?!!!
Summer, why?
Why, Summer?
Why, Mommy?

Breeze blew softly. Thank God for this! The heat was unbearable...
Another woman had an abortion.

It was spring. And they all were waiting for summer. Such beautiful time of the year! Such warm... Such hot... Sizzling... Season... Summer.

It will come. Be sure to come!

Impressum

Übersetzung: HolliWood (translation from Ukrainian)
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.01.2010

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To all unborn children in the world...