Кельтские сумерки - страница 2

Long ago in stories, men were taken away to assist the gods in a battle. Cuchullan[25] helped the goddess Fand’s[26] to defeat another nation and gained her favor. I’ve also heard that the fairies folk can’t even play their game called hurley[27] unless they have a mortal on each team. Without the help of mortals, the fairies folk are weak and cannot even hit the balls. One day, me and my friend were walking on some marshy[28] land in Galway when we saw an old, tough-looking man digging a ditch. My friend had heard that this man had seen something amazing. And eventually we get this story from him. When he was a young boy, he was working with around thirty other men, women, and boys. They were near Tuam[29], not too far from Knock-na-gur. Suddenly, they all saw about one hundred and fifty fairies folk from a distance of around half a mile. There were two of them, he said, in dark clothes like people of our own time, who stood about a hundred yards from one another. The others wore colorful clothes.

He could not see what they were doing, but it seemed like they have been playing hurley. Sometimes they would disappear, and then they came back out of the bodies of the two men in dark clothes. These two men were of the size of living men, but the others were small. He saw them for about half-an-hour, and then the old man he was working for said, “Get on, get on, or we will have no work done!” I asked if he saw the fairies too, “Oh, yes, but he did not want work he was paying wages for to be neglected[30].” He made everybody work so hard that nobody saw what happened to the fairies.

One evening a young man came to my house and started talking about the creation of the earth and heaven and many other things. He had written many poems and painted many mystical drawings. But lately he hadn’t written or painted anything. He feared that the emotional life of the artist was bad for him. However, he willingly recited[32] his poems. Suddenly it seemed to me that he was looking around a little nervously.

“Do you see anything, X–?” I said. “A shining woman, covered by her long hair, is standing near the doorway,” he answered. “Is it some living person who thinks of us?” I said; “No,” he replied; “If it was alive I would feel that. It is a spirit. It is someone who is dead or who has never lived.”

I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he worked as a clerk in a big store. However, he enjoyed walking around the hills and talking to eccentric farmers. He would also make strange and guilt-ridden[33] people to share their problems with him. Another night, when I was at his place, more than one person came to discuss their beliefs and doubts. Sometimes he had visions[34] while talking to them. He has accurately[35] told several people about their past and distant friends, leaving them silent. Even though he was young, he’s much more clever than the oldest people around.

The poetry he recited to me was full of his nature and his visions. Sometimes it was about past lives that he had lived, and sometimes about people from those lives. I told him I wanted to write an article about him and his poetry, and he said that I could do so, but he asked me not to mention his name. He wished to stay “unknown.” The next day, he sent me a collection of his poems along with a note that said: “Here are copies of the verses you liked. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write or paint anymore. I’m preparing myself for a new life.”

I remember one person in particular. A winter or two ago, he spent much of the night walking up and down the mountain, talking to an old peasant. Both of them were unhappy: X– because he had realized that art and poetry weren’t for him, and the old peasant because his life was ending without any achievements or hope left. Both of them were so Celtic! They were always striving[36] for something that couldn’t be fully expressed in words or actions. The peasant was lost in his mind with sadness. Once he exclaimed, “God owns the heavens, but He wants the world”; and once he complained that his old neighbors were gone and everyone had forgotten about him. They used to bring a chair for him by the fire in every cabin, but now they asked, “Who is that old man over there?” He said, “I feel