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everyone says: There is no truth on earth.
But there is no truth - and above. For me
So it's clear, as a simple scale.
I was born with a love for art;
child being, when high
Sounding organ in our old church,
I listened and listened with delight - tears
Involuntary and sweet flowing.
I rejected the idle pastimes early;
science, alien music, It was
tower mne; stubbornly and arrogantly
From them I abdicated and surrendered
one music. Difficult first step
And boring the first path. overcome
I early adversity. Craft
I put the pedestal of art;
I became a craftsman: fingers
I gave obedient, dry fluency
And faithful to his ear. sounds slaying,
Music I razyal, like a corpse. I believed
I harmony with algebra. Then
already I dared, versed in science,
Indulge in creative bliss dream.
I began to do; but in the silence, but in secret,
Not daring to think more about the glory.
not infrequently, after sitting in the silent cell
Two, three days, and forgetting sleep and food,
Having tasted the excitement and tears of inspiration,
I zhog my work and looked cold,
As my thoughts and sounds, I Rozhdennye,
dust, with a slight smoke disappear.
What I tell? When great Gluck
He appeared and opened to us new secrets
(deep, captivating mystery),
Did I dropped everything, I know that before,
With so loved, What's so hot believed,
And Do not go after him cheerfully
resignedly, like that, who erred
And the counter is sent to the other side?
vehemently, intense perseverance
I'm finally in the art of infinite
He has gained a high degree of. Glory
I smiled; I was in the hearts of men
Consonance found his creation.
I was happy: I enjoyed peacefully
their labor, success, glory; also
Through the efforts and successes of friends,
My comrades in the wondrous art.
No! I never knew envy,
ABOUT, never! - nizhe, when Piccini
Able to capture the wild rumor Parisians,
Ниже, when he heard for the first time
I Iphigenia [1] initial sound.
who says, Salieri was so proud
Ever envious despicable,
snake, the people trampled, will take
Sand and dust gnawing helplessly?
No one!.. And now - he will say - I now
dog in the manger. I envy; deep,
painfully jealous. - Heavens!
Where rightness, when the sacred gift,
When the immortal genius - not as a reward
burning love, selfless,
labor, diligence, prayers sent -
And it illuminates the head of a madman,
revelers idle?.. About Mozart, Mozart!
includes Mozart.


To her! I saw you! and I wanted
You joke unexpected treat.

Are you here! - It has long been my only weapon?

Now. I went to you,
I bore you something I have to show;
But, passing in front of the inn, suddenly
Heard the fiddle ... No, my friend, Salieri!
Funnier-old you anything
I never heard of ... blind fiddler in a tavern
Played voi che sapete [2]. Miracle!
not suffered, I brought fiddler,
To treat you to his art.
Includes a blind old man with a violin.

From Mozart to us something!
The old man plays an aria from Don Giovanni; Mozart hohočet.


And you can laugh?

Brother, Salieri!
Can it be true, and you yourself are not laughing?

I'm not laughing, when painter worthless
I stain the Madonna by Raphael,
I'm not laughing, when contemptible buffoon
Parodiyei byeschyestit Aligiyeri.
went, old man.

Wait same: It is for you,
Drink for my health.
The old man goes.

You, Salieri,
Out of sorts. I will come to you
At other times,.

What did you bring me?

No - so; trifle. The other night
Insomnia My tormented me,
And came up with me two, three thought.
Today I sketched them. I wanted
What I heard opinion; but now
You do not have to.

Brother, Mozart, Mozart!
When I was not up to you? sit down;
I'm listening to.
(the piano)

Imagine ... anyone?
Well, at least I - a little younger;
Lovers - not too, a little -
With beauty, or with a friend - even though you,
Suddenly I had fun ...: funereal vision,
Nezapny gloom, or something like that ...
Well, listen.


You went with it to me
And he could stay at the inn
And listen to the blind fiddler! - God!
You, Mozart, unworthy of yourself.

Что ж, OK?

what depth!
What courage and what harmony!
You, Mozart, the God, and that he did not know;
I know, I.

And! right? may be…
But my god hungry.

Listen: we dine together
The Golden Lion pub.

I am glad. But let'm going home to tell
wife, to me it is for dinner
I did not wait.


Waiting for you; see w.
No! I can not resist I share
my destiny: I elected, to his
Stop - do not we all dead,
We all, priests, music ministers,
I am not alone with my glory ... the deaf.
What benefits, if Mozart will be alive
And yet to reach a new height?
if he would raise the art? No;
It falls again, it disappears:
Heir us not leave it.
What profit is there? As a cherub,
He raised his few songs our heavenly,
to, perturbing wingless Desire
We've got, Can Prague, depart after!
So fly away as! the sooner, all the better.

That's poison, the last gift Isora.
For eighteen years I've carried it with me -
And often life seemed to me ever since
unbearable wound, and I often sat
With careless enemy for one meal,
And never to the whisper of temptation
I have not bowed, although I am not a coward,
Although I feel deeply hurt,
Though little love life. All I hesitated.
As the thirst for death tormented me,
that die? I fancied: may be, a life
I bring gifts nezapnye;
May be, visit my delight
And creative night and inspiration;
May be, Hayden will create new
Great - and enjoyed them ...
As I feasted with a guest stink,
May be, I fancied, worst enemy
Naidu; may be, zleyshaya insult
In my arrogant burst height -
Then do not you propadosh, gift Isora.
And I was right! and finally found
I'm My Enemy, and the new Hayden
I delight marvelous upoil!
Now - it's time! the precious gift of love,
Come over today in the cup of friendship.

A special room at the inn; Piano.
Mozart and Salieri for stolom.SaleriChto you today Pasmurov?
Mozart? No!
you're right, Mozart, something upset?
good lunch, nice wine,
And you are silent and frowning.

My Requiem worries me.

You write Requiem? Long ago you?

Long, three weeks. But the strange case of ...
I do not say to thee?


so listen.
Three weeks ago, I arrived late
Home. Told me, that came
Behind me someone. Why - I do not know,
All night I thought: who would it be?
And he me? The next day the same
I went and did not find me again.
On the third day, I was playing on the floor
With my boy. I clicked;
I went out. Person, dressed in black,
Courtesy poklonivshisy, I ordered
I Requiem and vanished. I sat down immediately
And he began to write - and from that time for me
I do not come to my black man;
And I'm glad: I was sorry to part b
With my work, though quite ready
Requiem Уж. But in the meantime, I ...


I am ashamed to admit it ...

What is the?

Me day and night rest does not give
My black man. Follow me everywhere
Like a shadow, he chases. Here and now
It seems to me, he is with us himself-thirds
Is sitting.

AND, full! that for fear of infantile?
Scatter empty Duma. Beaumarchais
I would say: "Hear, Salieri brother,
As black thoughts come to you,
Uncork a bottle of champagne
Ile perechti "The Marriage of Figaro".

Yes! Beaumarchais was because you buddy;
You "Tarara" for him [3] composed,
nice thing. There is one motive ...
I keep telling him everything, I am happy when ...
La la la la ... Oh, justice Is, Salieri,
Beaumarchais that someone poisoned?

I do not think: he was too funny
For this craft.

He's a genius,
Like you and me. A genius and evil -
The two are incompatible. Is it not true?

You think?
(Throws the poison into Mozart's glass.)

Well, drink the.

for your
Health, friend, for sincere union,
Binder Mozart and Salieri,
Two sons harmony.


billeting, billeting!.. You drank ... without me?
(throws his napkin on the table)

pretty, I'm full.
(She goes to the piano.)

Listen, Salieri,
My Requiem.

You cry?

these tears
first pour: and painful and pleasant,
It was as if I committed a grave duty,
As if the healing knife had cut off
affecting members! another Mozart, these tears ...
To ignore them. more, hurry
More sounds fill my soul ...

When all so we feel the power
harmony! But no: then B can not
And the world will be; No one had not become
Take care of the low-life needs;
All would be given over to the art of freestyle.
We few are chosen, lucky idle,
Abject neglect benefit,
Single beautiful priests.
Is it not true? But I am now ill,
Me something hard; I go I fall asleep.


you fall asleep
Надолго, Mozart! But he is right uzhel,
And I'm not a genius? Genius and villainy
The two are incompatible. Not true:
A Bonarotti? Or is it a fairy tale
Stupid, senseless crowd - and it was not
Slayer Vatican creator? [4]

1830 g.

[1] "Iphigenia in Aulis", Opera glucans.

[2] About you, who knows (it.). Cherubino's aria from the third act of the opera of Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro".

[3] Salieri Opera in the words of Beaumarchais.

[4] There is a legend, Michelangelo slew sitter, to naturally portray a dying Christ.

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