Читать книгу Swan lake онлайн
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From these words, Svana blushed, and her face lit up with a charming smile.
– Well, you are a burning brown-haired man. I immediately noticed this when I saw it in the "Fox hole".
I took her small palms with lovely purple marigolds and began to gently warm in mine.
– What are we going to drink?
– Armenian brandy, of course, if of course they have it?
Svana asked the waiter about this and he nodded in the affirmative.
– I never drank your brandy.
– Today you will try.
Svana twirled the glass she had brought and inhaled the aroma of the drink.
– Is this the Armenian brandy? It has a heady scent.
– This is a piece of the Armenian sun.
– Which shines 333 days a year?
– Quite right.
Svana slowly, savoring every sip, emptied her glass. A pleasant burning liquid poured inside, warming our hearts and souls.
– How lovely. I wouldn't mind repeating it.
The waiter brought us two more glasses, and then another.
– So you are half Norwegian.
– Yes, and my mother gave me the name. The ancestors of modern Norwegians believed that if you give a child a nickname in honor of an animal and worship him, then it will serve as a talisman for life: a mystical connection will arise between the animal and the bearer of the name. Some of the most common female variants of such totem names were: Hrevna – "crow", Svana – "swan". So it turns out that you hit the very spot when you said about Grieg's melody and Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.