Камилла Росвен (Московская обл., Россия) – родилась в Казахстане, г. Байконур. Все детство провела в Кыргызстане, что наложило отпечаток в душе, с самого детства увлекалась творчеством и иностранными языками. Свое выражение находила в создании стихов, рассказов. А так же по ныне являюсь свободным художником, пишу картины и создаю иллюстрации. Искусством нужно вдохновляться, жить и его создавать.
Kamilla Rhoswen – (Moscow Region, Russia) – I was born in Kazakhstan, Baikonur city. All my childhood i spend in another beautiful country –Kyrgyzstan. So, it left an imprint in my soul, since childhood I was fond of creativity and Arts and foreign languages. Its expression was found in the creation of poems, short stories. And now I am a freelance artist, I draw pictures and create illustrations. The arts need to be inspired, to live and to create.
Перевод рассказа “Белый дух”
The White Spirit
One ordinary autumn day, often in our seats, I sat by the window and looked out the window into the street. The sky seemed to cloud, covering half the sky and at the same hour it began to rain. It rained and rained, not yet flooded the entire street. The sun could hardly be seen, and from the clouds lightning flashed, and the thunder rattled, so involuntarily want to hide under the covers.
When you feel that you were cheated and betrayed, it is this feeling arises in the soul a sense of fear and confusion. But that day everything was especially strange: despite the fact that rains often in the fall, he did not walk until the morning. As always the light and turn off the heating, then making his way through the household items, passing the door for fear of hitting the wall looking for the damn matches and candles. Touch find a candle and of course drop with shelf Cup or a bowl is not standing in his place. Light a candle, and suddenly there is a feeling of joy at the sight of fire and light. And no matter how wrote, would not say what, sitting by candlelight, feel the romance, in that second, I felt a completely different feeling. I was rooted feeling of loneliness and boredom: I wanted to get into my dreams, where I would be easier to look at the world and not to wait every day a miracle. Even his thoughts were confused, not allowing to understand the problems. In the end I fell asleep, the sound of rain, as if he whispered something in your ear and enveloped by cold.
The rays of light, reflected from the Windows illuminated the quiet room and crashed through the night in my dreams: lightly touching the face, my eyelashes, awakened as ghosts of reality, calling to me to Wake up and leave the sweet illusion of sleep. Where fog and rain absorbed all alive and mortal, in a dream, only it was ally, in search of the soul and diffused feelings.
In the weightlessness of sleep, I hear the song, at first quietly, calling through the fog. It seems to me? Stepping on the stones under the feet comes the cool moss, free and easy step forward. Again. This song pours…I’m not strong enough to catch up. She calls and pulls:
– About the human world, you have forgotten…
How dearly I hold the love that’s sweeter
All secrets and dreams that you kept,
Hear me, in the night flying…
With new strength the sounds around me like a fog, mixed with them and pull to go forward, towards the voice that keeps singing:
Should I just sit next to,
Close you eyes timidly…
You’re in my power, as it is,
Envelop prisoner you dare!
He echoes ran through my head…and the closer, the stronger the voice. Feeling her bare feet the cold of the earth, it becomes unbearable to move and see through the white smoke of fog. Only the tops of the trees seem green peaks and once again the cold envelops the entire body.