The year is 1922. I'm already the general secretary. That was one thing I didn’t hope for: no such post existed. Lenin thought it up especially for me. So that I could bring the party together. And he was right: what’s the point of it if it’s not together? If the party isn’t together, then it isn’t a party — it is an assemblage of people. And so, I brought it together. And in addition, I surrounded it with the halo of mystery. The way the Teacher used to do. Not Lenin — he didn't know how to do that, but — Jesus. Meanwhile, I knew that the Lenin was hopeless. I don’t mean only his health. His morals as well. He offered me to take his sister as my wife, he asked me to supply him with snake poison, but it was me he wanted to sting. «Mountain eagles», to whose ranks I relegated him during the graveside oration, don't behave in that manner. Incidentally, it was than that it dawned upon me that when Lenin passes away, I would also think of a post for him, which doesn't exist. I would make him into a god in the Mausoleum. It would be good for him and for the party. For the sake of further unity. I decided that everything should be kept in him exactly the way it is, even his overcoat, and make flowerbeds in his profile. The only thing I couldn't fathom was that the brain of the new god would be torn into 30 thousand shreds.
А здесь мне 40. Хорошая фотография, хотя я не люблю, когда меня фотографируют в профиль. Тем более — если я об этом не знаю. Шапка не моя. Ворошилова. Смешная. Как будто из головы что-то растёт. Конкретное. Мы с Климом тогда дружили. Относительно. Ибо дружба — как и Клим — понятие зыбкое. К тому ж она требует свободного времени.
And here, I'm already 40. It’s a good photo, although I don’t like to be photographed in profile. Especially, if I am not aware of it. The hat is not mine. It’s Voroshilov’s. It’s a funny one. It’s like something is growing out of the head. Something concrete. Klim and I were good friends at that time. Relatively speaking. Because friendship — just like Klim — is an unsteady notion. Besides, it requires free time.
А тут мы с тем же Климом и нашими жёнами. В свободное время. Не помню года. Не помню даже — кто это с его женой сидит рядом. Точно, однако, что — не Коля Бухарин. Тот подсел бы к моей, к Наде. Точно и то, что мадам Ворошилова — еврейка. Хотя Клим разлёгся тут не из презрения к ней. И не из барства. У него геморрой был…
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