Улько Алексей

AlexРождение в художественно-филологической семье предопределило наличие в моей жизни широкого спектра интересов как в каждой из этих областей, так и в их разнообразных пересечениях. В различные периоды я занимался как живописью, графикой, фотографией и видео, так и литературой, лингвостилистикой, переводами, культурологией, журналистикой и теорией искусства, что способствовало развитию интереса к кросс-дисциплинарным и мультимедийным занятиям. В настоящее время помимо своей основной работы в качестве независимого консультанта Британского Совета по английскому языку, я снимаю и монтирую экспериментальные фильмы, а также пишу о различных особенностях современной центральноазиатской культуры и искусства. Состою членом ассоциации ученых Центральной Азии (ESCAS) и ассоциации историков искусства (AAH), увлекаюсь музыкой, антропософией и велотуризмом. Живу в Самарканде и Ташкенте.

My birth in a family of an artist and a linguist predetermined the presence of a wide range of interests in each of these two areas and in their different crossings. At different times in my life I did some painting, drawing, photography and video, but also wrote stories and poems, articles on literary analysis, translations, articles for newspapers  and my interest in cross-disciplinary and multimedia pursuits has grown. Currently, apart from working as a freelance English language consultant for the British Council,, I shoot and edit experimental films and  write about contemporary art. I am a member of the European Society for Central Asian Studies and of the Association of Art Historians. I like music, Anthroposophy and cycling. Live in Samarkand and Tashkent.


Перевод книги изданной "Hertfordshire press‬" 

Произведение Шарафа Рашидова "Кашмирская песня"

Resting against a large rock at the foot of the mountain, Nargis closed her deep black eyes that were so full of suffering and sang of her love for Bambur, growing ever louder and more insistent. Swaying in the wind as she sang, this was her expression of her joy and her sadness, and the injury of her solitude. And in moments like this it began to seem to her that the one who so filled her every thought and feeling had suddenly appeared to her out of the midday haze and was coming closer, ever closer, and that his breath was now caressing her silken locks and burning her crimson lips.

The flowers that heard Nargis’ song understood that love had taken hold of her entire being and that all her thoughts and feelings were directed solely towards Bambur. Without him she would not see the beauty of the world or drink from the cup of happiness. Because of this she would wait for him, calling for him day after day, hour after hour and instant after instant, for the whole of her life until her eyes were washed over by a wave of grey oblivion. For, no matter how far away her beloved was and how difficult a path she was destined to follow, she believed that sooner or later she would find him and that love would be rewarded by love.

All living things know that such devoted and committed love will sink its roots ever deeper and become an ever-stronger force that neither rapid rivers nor limitless seas, neither scorched-yellow deserts nor high mountains with foothills washed by tumbling streams and peaks hidden in the clouds can hinder. Fearing no trial, it will achieve its goal!

‘The goal is distant, Nargis, and your path not easy.

Do you imagine you will reach its end?’

‘The way is difficult and arrival uncertain,

Still, only by starting can I hope for my goal.’

‘But what if the searing red heat and savage Khorud

Block your way, tear out your petals?

Or your feet are burned by scorching sands,

Or felled by the surge of a river in spate,

Or the tendrils of a whirlwind toss and catch you,

Won’t you regret that you took this path?’

‘Cruel is the storm and strong, but love’s stronger.

Khorud can destroy but has no power over love.

Loving, I will master the mightiest flood;

Loving, I will pass through fire and desert.

A greater danger than Khorud or high waters

Is silence when love bids you go, and singing!’

Nargis’ song could be heard all through the valley. The flowers and birds, the breeze and the little streams as they wound their way down from the snowy peaks to the warm earth – they all echoed her. Then another girl joined in her song, a girl whose heart was brimming with ardent dreams of youth and overflowing with all the beauty of which the world was made. And in this way, just as a river is born from a brook and a tree grows from a cutting, young girls in villages far and near joined in response, linked by roads and paths that stretched unbroken to the blue line of the horizon. Once her voice could no longer be distinguished from the infinity of voices, Nargis danced. All who saw her dancing, now with tender joyfulness and now with inconsolable grief, realised what her situation was, for all things – the birds and the winds, the skies and the seas, the flowers and man – are inextricably connected. Thus it was that Nargis’ dreams gave rise to a melody and the melody to the girls’ singing; this was then the movement of Nargis’ dance, that bewitching dance that brought time to a standstill and drove the flowers to reach up higher and higher.

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