Bunin is blind to read. Stories. Brief historical background

"Blind"

If you go out to the pier, you will meet, despite the bright sun, a sharp wind and you will see the distant winter peaks of the Alps, silver, terrible. But in the calm, in this white town, on the embankment, there is warmth, shine, people dressed in spring, walking or sitting on benches under palm trees, squinting from under straw hats at the thick blue of the sea and the white statue English king, in a naval uniform standing in the emptiness of the bright sky.

He sits alone, with his back to the bay, and does not see, but only feels the sun warming his back. He is with his head open, gray-haired, and senile-looking. His posture is intensely motionless and, like all blind people, Egyptian: he holds himself straight, with his knees together, placing an inverted cap and large tanned hands on them, raising his as if sculptured face and slightly turning it to the side - all the time guarding with a sensitive ear for his voice and rustling steps of people walking. All the time he speaks quietly, monotonously and slightly melodiously, sadly and humbly reminding us of our duty to be kind and merciful. And when I finally stop and put a few centimes in his cap, in front of his sightless face, he, still looking blindly into space, without changing either his posture or facial expression, for a moment interrupts his melodious and composed, memorized speech and speaks already simple and heartfelt:

Merci, merci, mon bon frière!

“Mon bon frére...” Yes, yes, we are all brothers. But only death or great sorrows, great misfortunes remind us of this with genuine and irresistible conviction, depriving us of our earthly ranks, leading us out of the circle everyday life. How confidently he pronounces it: mon bon frére! He does not and cannot have any fear that he spoke out of place when he called brother not an ordinary passer-by, but a king or president of the republic, famous person or a billionaire. And it’s not at all because he doesn’t have this fear that everyone will forgive him because of his blindness, because of his ignorance. No, that's not why at all. He's just bigger than everyone else now. The right hand of God, which touched him, seemed to deprive him of his name, time, and space. He is now just a man to whom everyone is a brother...

And he is right in another way: we are all essentially good. I walk, I breathe, I see, I feel - I carry within me life, its fullness and joy. What does it mean? This means that I perceive and accept everything that surrounds me, that it is sweet, pleasant, related to me, and arouses love in me. So life is, undoubtedly, love, kindness, and a decrease in love, kindness is always a decrease in life, there is already death. And here he is, this blind man, calling to me as I pass: “Look at me, feel love for me too; Everything in this world is related to you on this beautiful morning - that means I am related too; and since you are related, you cannot be insensitive to my loneliness and my helplessness, for my flesh, like the flesh of the whole world, is one with yours, for your feeling of life is a feeling of love, for all suffering is our common suffering, violating our common joy life, that is, the feeling of each other and everything that exists!”

Do not worry about equality in everyday life, in its envy, hatred, and evil competition.

If you go out to the pier, you will meet, despite the bright sun, a sharp wind and you will see the distant winter peaks of the Alps, silver, terrible. But in the calm, in this white town, on the embankment, there is warmth, shine, people dressed in spring, walking or sitting on benches under palm trees, squinting from under straw hats at the thick blue of the sea and the white statue of the English king, in the sea the shape of a bright sky standing in the void.

He sits alone, with his back to the bay, and does not see, but only feels the sun warming his back.

He is with his head open, gray-haired, and senile-looking. His pose is intensely motionless and, like all blind people, Egyptian: he holds himself straight, with his knees together, an inverted cap and large tanned hands resting on them, raising his seemingly sculptured face and slightly turning it to the side - all the time guarding with a sensitive ear for his voice and rustling steps of people walking.

All the time he speaks quietly, monotonously and slightly melodiously, sadly and humbly reminding us of our duty to be kind and merciful.

And when I finally stop and put a few centimes in his cap, in front of his sightless face, he, still looking blindly into space, without changing either his posture or facial expression, for a moment interrupts his melodious and composed, memorized speech and speaks already simple and heartfelt:

Merci, merci, mon bon frere! - (Thank you, thank you, my good brother!, French.)

"Mon bon frХre..." Yes, yes, we are all brothers. But only death or great sorrows, great misfortunes remind us of this with genuine and irresistible conviction, depriving us of our earthly ranks, taking us out of the circle of everyday life.

How confidently he pronounces it: mon bon frХre! He does not and cannot have any fear that he spoke out of place when he called brother not an ordinary passer-by, but a king or the president of a republic, a famous person or a billionaire.

And it’s not at all because he doesn’t have this fear that everything will be forgiven him because of his blindness, because of his ignorance. No, not at all because. He's just bigger than everyone else now. The Hand of God, which touched him, seemed to deprive him of his name, time, and space. He is now just a man to whom everyone is a brother...

And so he, this blind man, calls to me as I pass: “Look at me, feel love for me too; everything in this world is related to you on this beautiful morning - that means I am related too; and since you are related, you cannot to be insensitive to my loneliness and my helplessness, for my flesh, like the flesh of the whole world, is one with yours, for your feeling of life is a feeling of love, for every suffering is our common suffering, violating our common joy of life, that is, the feeling of each other and all things!"

If you go out to the pier, you will meet, despite the bright sun, a sharp wind and you will see the distant winter peaks of the Alps, silver, terrible. But in the calm, in this white town, on the embankment, there is warmth, shine, people dressed in spring, walking or sitting on benches under palm trees, squinting from under straw hats at the thick blue of the sea and the white statue of the English king, in the sea the shape of a bright sky standing in the void.

“Mon bon frére...” Yes, yes, we are all brothers. But only death or great sorrows, great misfortunes remind us of this with genuine and irresistible conviction, depriving us of our earthly ranks, taking us out of the circle of everyday life. How confidently he pronounces it: mon bon frere! He does not and cannot have any fear that he spoke out of place when he called brother not an ordinary passer-by, but a king or the president of a republic, a famous person or a billionaire. And it’s not at all because he doesn’t have this fear that everyone will forgive him because of his blindness, because of his ignorance. No, not at all because. He's just bigger than everyone else now. The right hand of God, which touched him, seemed to deprive him of his name, time, and space. He is now just a man to whom everyone is a brother...

If you go out to the pier, you will meet, despite the bright sun, a sharp wind and you will see the distant winter peaks of the Alps, silver, terrible. But in the calm, in this white town, on the embankment, there is warmth, shine, people dressed in spring, walking or sitting on benches under palm trees, squinting from under straw hats at the thick blue of the sea and the white statue of the English king, in the sea the shape of a bright sky standing in the void.

“Mon bon frére...” Yes, yes, we are all brothers. But only death or great sorrows, great misfortunes remind us of this with genuine and irresistible conviction, depriving us of our earthly ranks, taking us out of the circle of everyday life. How confidently he pronounces it: mon bon frére! He does not and cannot have any fear that he spoke out of place when he called brother not an ordinary passer-by, but a king or the president of a republic, a famous person or a billionaire. And it’s not at all because he doesn’t have this fear that everyone will forgive him because of his blindness, because of his ignorance. No, not at all because. He's just bigger than everyone else now. The right hand of God, which touched him, seemed to deprive him of his name, time, and space. He is now just a man to whom everyone is a brother...

Do not worry about equality in everyday life, in its envy, hatred, and evil competition.

There cannot be equality there, never has been and never will be.

What unites us? Positions, positions, statuses or standard of living and salaries? If you live by all this, you can forget about any even the weakest unity forever. “Do you have that much? And I have more!”, “Which ones do you have! But I don’t have this at all...” - when comparing our wealth, our “successes,” we instantly draw an insurmountable line of inequality among ourselves. Today we have the UN and many other organizations advocating for universal equality, but do they even know what “equality” is? Meanwhile, psychology as a science about our qualities has long said that equality is possible only on the basis of common values. And it doesn’t matter who the person is, what nationality, what height, whether he uses BVK or “Tele 2”, whether his eyelashes rise 70% high, and lipstick does not stick to glasses, or whether his body is a breeding ground for diseases and hemorrhoids on healthy body society - all this becomes unimportant when you look at a person's values - courage, honor, decency. You can lose your sight, but it is not the one who cannot see the light who is blind; the sighted person is blind who is unable to discern the true qualities of a person. Such a person dooms himself to constant bad luck.

If you go out to the pier, you will meet, despite the bright sun, a sharp wind and you will see the distant winter peaks of the Alps, silver, terrible. But in the calm, in this white town, on the embankment, there is warmth, shine, people dressed in spring, walking or sitting on benches under palm trees, squinting from under straw hats at the thick blue of the sea and the white statue of the English king, in the sea the shape of a bright sky standing in the void.

- Thank you, thank you, my good brother!

"My good brother." Yes, yes, we are all brothers. But only death or great sorrows, great misfortunes remind us of this with genuine and irresistible conviction, depriving us of our earthly ranks, taking us out of the circle of everyday life. How confidently he pronounces this “my good brother”! He does not and cannot have any fear that he spoke out of place when he called brother not an ordinary passer-by, but a king or the president of a republic, a famous person or a billionaire. And it’s not at all because he doesn’t have this fear that everything will be forgiven him because of his blindness, because of his ignorance. No, that's not why at all. He's just bigger than everyone else now. The Hand of God, which touched him, seemed to deprive him of his name, time, and space. He is now just a man to whom everyone is a brother...

And he is right in another way: we are all essentially good. I walk, I breathe, I see, I feel - I carry within me life, its fullness and joy. What does it mean? This means that I perceive and accept everything that surrounds me, that it is sweet, pleasant, related to me, and evokes Love in me. So life is, undoubtedly, Love, kindness, and a decrease in Love, kindness is always a decrease in life, there is already death. And here he is, this blind man, calling me as I pass: “Look at me, feel Love for me too; Everything in this world is related to you on this beautiful morning - that means I am related too; and since I am related, you cannot be insensitive to my loneliness and my helplessness, for my flesh, like the flesh of the whole world, is one with yours, for your feeling of life is a feeling of Love, for every suffering is our common suffering, violating our common the joy of life, that is, the feeling of each other and everything that exists!”