Do your ears hang low song origin
Do Your Ears Hang Low? |
TITLE: Do Your Ears Hang Low?
AUTHOR: unknown
CATEGORY: Traditional, Public Domain
KEYWORDS: children, humorous
EARLIEST PRINTED OR RECORDED REFERENCE: The earliest known recording was in 1922- sheet music with slightly divergent lyrics from 1925 is in the Library of Congress.
There was not much information about the song, but I did find the following (although I’m not sure of it’s authenticity–but it is a great story) “Just as Ring Around the Rosie was a child’s song that had its origins in the grisly history of the Black Death in England, so Do Your Ears Hang Low? was about the Spanish influenza of 1918. Its deadly toll on soldiers demobilization after the first world war is well known, but less so the fact that they died in such numbers that in army hospitals they were only tagged on the ear with their serial number.
“Army medics assigned to dispatching of the bodies hummed a funereal song to make their revolting work lighter as they stacked the ear-tagged bodies. In this song they pretend they are talking with the influenza victims and making fun of their ears. This is likely to have been an adaptive response on the orderlies part, as the bodies of those succumbed to influenza were often mightily bloated and many died with facial rictus.
“The song likely began first at Army posts in the Delaware region, but was first written down in memoirs of Corporal Austin Cooper, who was later to serve as first head of the United States Army Infectious Disease Research Laboratories ( later USAMRID). The earliest known recording was in 1922- sheet music with slightly divergent lyrics from 1925 is in the Library of Congress.” (from yahoo answers)
OTHER TITLES AND VARIATIONS:
- Many Parodies (names you can only imagine)
RECORDINGS: (mp3’s available through Amazon.com)
- Kevin Roth, [easyazon-link asin=”B0019GDME0″ locale=”us”]Do Your Ears Hang Low/ Old Mcdonald[/easyazon-link]
- David Polansky, [easyazon-link asin=”B002CE8BIA” locale=”us”]Do Your Ears Hang Low?[/easyazon-link]
Do Your Ears Hang Low?
Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier
Do your ears hang low?
Do your ears stand high?
Do they reach up to the sky?
Do they droop when they are wet?
Do they stiffen when they’re dry?
Can you summon o’er your neighbor
With a minimum of labor?
Do your ears stand high?
Do your ears flip-flop?
Can you use them as a mop?
Are they stringy at the bottom?
Are they curly at the top?
Can you use them for a swatter?
Can you use them for a blotter?
Do your ears flip-flop?
Do your ears stick out?
Can you waggle them about?
Can you flap them up and down
As you fly around the town?
Can you shut them up for sure
When you hear an awful bore?
Do your ears stick out?
Do your ears give snacks?
Are they all filled up with wax?
Do you eat it in the morning
Do you eat it in the bath?
Do you eat it with a scone?
Or do you eat it on its own?
Do your ears give snacks?
NOTICE: I’m not the best guitar player or vocalist, but no one loves these songs more than I do.
The tune and lyrics are in the public domain unless otherwise noted. The recording © copyright 2013 by Stephen Griffith and may be used by permission of the copyright holder. The variation of the song I’m posting is the version I perform and is not exactly replicating the sources cited, but is always in the same song family. If anyone has more details about this song, or believes I’ve stated something in error, please let me know. I’m also open to suggestions to improve the site. Thanks.
sgg
Posted on January 30, 2014 by stephengriffith. This entry was posted in Public Domain, Traditional and tagged children, humorous. Bookmark the permalink.
Do Your Ears Hang Low?
- Do Your Ears Hang Low?
-
"Do Your Ears Hang Low?" is a children's song that is often sung in schools and at camps.
The melody of this song was partially taken from another: "Turkey in the Straw." Various theories exist concerning the origin of the lyrics, but no conclusive evidence seems to exist.Various versions with alternative lyrics exist, the earliest known version is "Do Your Balls Hang Low",[1] collected in 1941 by Vance Randolph, but not printed by him until 1992 in the book "Randolph, Roll Me in Your Arms". This version is listed in the Roud Folk Song Index under a separate number, 10259. Other versions printed shortly afterwards would suggest that this a rather rude wartime soldiers' song that has made its way into other circles: rugby singing, campfire singing. The original lyric version is also in the Roud Folk Song Index under number 15472.
Contents
- 1 Lyrics
- 2 Recorded versions
- 3 Parody in popular culture
- 4 References
- 5 External links
Lyrics
The following lyrics are from one particular variant of the song:
Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie 'em in a knot?
Can you tie 'em in a bow?
Can you throw 'em o'er your shoulder
Like a regimental (or continental) soldier
Do your ears hang low?Do your ears stand high?
Do they reach up to the sky?
Do they droop when they are wet?
Do they stiffen when they're dry?
Can you semaphore your neighbor
With a minimum of labor?
Do your ears stand high?Do your ears flip-flop?
Can you use them as a mop?
Are they stringy at the bottom?
Are they curly at the top?
Can you use them for a swatter?
Can you use them for a blotter?
Do your ears flip-flop?Do your ears stick out?
Can you waggle them about?
Can you flap them up and down
As you fly around the town?
Can you shut them up for sure
When you hear an awful bore?
Do your ears stick out?Do your ears give snacks?
Are they all filled up with wax?
Do you eat it in the morning
Do you eat it in the bath?
Do you eat it with a scone
Or do you eat it on its own?
Do your ears give snacks?Recorded versions
- Sharon, Lois & Bram on Stay Tuned (album) 1987
- Barney on Barney's Favorites 1993, Barney's Greatest Hits 2000
- Kinky Friedman on Live From Uranus 2003
- Øystein Sunde in a Norwegian variant called Hvis dine ører henger ned (If your ears hang down) on Det året det var så bratt 1971
- A version of the song was recorded for the children's TV show, "Kidsongs" in 1986, and is often thought to be referring to a basset hound (as the music video featured such).
Dundes, Alan (1997). From Game to War and Other Psychoanalytic Essays on Folklore. University Press of Kentucky. http://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=KE6DMDfkQPMC&oi=fnd&pg=PR7&dq=%22do+your+ears+hang+low%22&ots=NYkBkvYruf&sig=AjWvm3uo6zx1mBMNRhlHhPLVGos#PPR11,M1. - National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences: "Do your ears hang low?" Lyrics and MIDI
External links
Wikimedia Foundation. 2010.
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Stories of the finalists of the second season of the competition
Dudko Maria.
Keys
So... Tick... So...
The voice of the old grandfather clock from the hallway already met me, but I could not open the door. Well, where are these keys?... Really lost? Only this was not enough, and so the day didn't work out!.. Ah, no, here it is...
The clock struck eight when I stepped on the creaky parquet of the hallway. How I missed the quietness of my apartment! I just wanted to fall apart on a shabby sofa, and lie there until the morning ... But instead, I trudged to the computer. While the old unit, inherited from the dinosaurs, turned on, I made myself coffee. Today you will need more than one mug. Article for the night, and inspiration from gulkin's nose. They also threaten to make layoffs at work. You can not delay, otherwise the dismissal cannot be avoided. And it would not be bad to update the blog, otherwise the last subscribers will soon scatter. Eh…
I worked in the editorial office of a magazine, which in our district, and in the city in general, was quite in demand.
The editor - Fedot Stepanovich - always put only the best into print.
The best. Yes. It means not me. For some reason, lately my writing has not been impressive at all. Even myself. Honestly, not surprised. It looks like I've lost the spark, like there was nothing to write about. It's funny somehow: I live in a metropolis, where something happens every day, but I look as if into a void. Other people's problems ceased to excite, everyone here is a drop in the ocean. So my news is gray, alien, distant and unnecessary, in general, to no one.
What did I write about? As I then still thought, about the important. About eternal, to some extent. I noticed that the people around were so closed that they seemed to stop seeing each other, let alone feel and understand. Everyone at some point withdraws into himself and loses the key to the door he entered. Locks up the heart. Puts on a mask. Indifferent. And silently walks along the gray stones of the pavement...
I just wanted to be heard.
.. I thought I would become the key to the world on this side of the mask. I will help those in need with my word, I will teach people to listen and hear, I will save the world... But it seems that something went wrong. And now... Now I don't even know how to save myself. So in response I get the cry of tearing paper and the famous last warning from the lips of Fedot Stepanych. Last chance. Tomorrow I will not come with a sensation - that's it. Well... It looks like it's time to forget about your reasoning for a while and plunge into the world of human intrigues. Write what will be read. What is expected of me. No not like this. What do you expect from an article in our magazine.
What are the stone jungles talking about these days? What is the wind of change carrying along their paved paths? The most discussed topic was a series of strange deaths, however, as is usually the case. For a long time now, criminals taken into custody have been dying one after another. The most different: from simple pickpockets to almost murderers, adults and still teenagers of fourteen years.
Most of them haven't even been sentenced yet. And they all have the same diagnosis - poisoning. What is still a mystery. This happened with some frequency in different parts of the city, but most often in our police department. And, by pure chance, none other than my older brother, officer Yuri Diskarin, worked there.
How I could use his help now... But no. My brother and I don't get along. And they never got along. It just so happened ... Probably, we are just too different. Yurik is secretive, distrustful. He never told me anything, he preferred to do everything himself, and I felt that he did not need me at all. I must have been a little jealous of my brother. He is successful, just the pride of the family, and I grab the last chance to stay at work.
...Grasping for the last chance to stay at work. Although ... You can try to find out about the high-profile case first hand, so to speak. This, for sure, would interest Fedot Stepanych, but he would have to turn to his brother for help.
Yeah ... And once again become a loser in the eyes of a whole family. Hell no! Even for the sake of work, I will not ask for the help of this person!
Well, nothing. I prepared, collected materials, now I will write and saved! I manage myself. If only I could make it before morning...
GO!!!
The sound took me by surprise. It was a signal that the factory was over, from the old watch in the corridor. The matter is fixable. I got up, went to the clock, opened the lid and reached for the key with a familiar gesture. Only the key was missing. What's the strange thing? In my house, I valued order, but such incidents simply unsettled ... What should I do now, look for this lost key? Looks like I'll have to...
Casting a sad glance at the computer, I began to remember where I could put this old piece of iron. So I have already climbed several shelves, looked into the boxes and ...
What is this? There was an envelope in the dresser. And, if I was ready to see the key to the winding mechanism among the socks, with my absent-mindedness, then there’s no strange message at all.
Although, maybe I'm too naive? Oh, I don't like it all...
Naturally, I opened the envelope and immediately recognized Yurik's handwriting.
"I'm not sure I wasn't followed. Check your mail. I never forgot your birthday!
Yu.
What jokes? I knew that it was necessary to take away the keys from him when he moved in! Wait, there's something on the back...
"KeyHole4u..."
I ran my eyes over the hastily written lines again. The text seemed devoid of meaning and meant nothing to me.
What is he? For henbane, it seems, it’s not the season ... Just in case, I checked the calendar and made sure that my birthday is not today and not even in the coming days. The only thing that made sense was to check your email.
What am I doing with my time? Before my hand could close the text editor, a window popped up asking if I really wanted to do it. Here, even it is mocking...
I actually received one letter in the mail.
So, why is Yurik doing this: invading my house with a strange note and tweeting on the Internet at the same time? After all, isn't it easier to call? Of course, I would not jump with delight when something would make our little star descend to mere mortals, but why reinvent the wheel?
So I thought as I sipped my cold coffee while waiting for the text to load. Finally, the following lines loomed before my eyes:
“Hello, Egor.
I know you'll be surprised by my letter, but I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't really serious. I wanted to call, but my new phone didn't have your number. My number hasn't changed, if you're interested...
Let's get down to business. We need to talk. But the conversation must be face to face. Come today at nine at the intersection of Pskovskaya and Myasnaya, there, in the courtyard of house 26, I will be waiting for you.
It's about a series of prisoner deaths. Correction, about a series of murders.
.. I thought it might interest you, I'll explain everything at the meeting, if, of course, you show up... your guilt. But I ask you to believe me one single time. You are my last key to hope. I expect you to read this letter and come.
Your brother Yuri Diskarin
Hmm…
Everything is more and more wonderful, as the heroine of a famous fairy tale used to say…
I re-read the message several times to make sure that I really stopped understanding anything. Except, perhaps, for the fact that some kind of mystery lies in this whole affair, and Yurka for me now is the key to all answers. Besides, since he himself calls me to talk, I will not fail to interview the lead investigator ... Unless, of course, this is a stupid attempt at a joke ... But it is unlikely that he would write to me for fun.
And what, now it's raining again, right?.. But you've just come home! Okay, I’ll figure it out quickly, and I’ll have another six hours for the article .
.. I glanced at the clock, belatedly remembering that this was pointless. Another advertising message comes to the phone, helpfully suggesting that I need to go out if I want to be in time for a meeting. Having extinguished the monitor that had just woken up and abruptly grabbed my raincoat, which had not yet dried out after a day's walk, I jumped out into the entrance.
Only at the car I hesitated a little. Isn't it too easy for me to fit in? Just a couple of minutes ago, I was sure that for the sake of my brother I would not lift an eyebrow, and for my own sake I would not mess with him. What did this message do to me?
It filled me with a sense of self-importance. Finally, something depended on me, on me alone! Probably, I was driven by the desire to prove that I was worth something ... But I didn’t want to admit such motives. From this, an incomprehensible annoyance settled in my head, but I stubbornly explained it only by the spent time taken away from writing the article.
Stopping at the appointed place, I looked at my watch. Another full five minutes ... It was possible to leave later, although ... as if it would give me something. Around no one like Yuri.
An unpleasant, vile fog reigned in the street. I hid from him in the car.
The sun has long since set behind the clouds, and the city has lit its fires. Lanterns, not stars. I sometimes thought about how this noisy world lacked stars. Each of them is unique, even though there are billions of them in the darkness of the sky. It's the same with people, isn't it? But we almost purposely forget about that, therefore we hide from condemning burning looks from the depths of the immense.
And just now the thought flashed through my head: how often do I myself think about others? It would seem that constantly ...
I digressed from philosophical reflections to look at the time. Five minutes. There was no one even humanoid in sight, the yard was empty.
Ten... I'm checking my phone, mail.
Not a line about being late.
Twenty! No, it's not serious anymore! I shouldn't have come... Nervously dialing a number, preparing a scathing speech. In response, only long beeps are heard. Okay... Let's wait... You never know. He's got a job too... Trying to calm down seems to be working until I remember that damned article never started! Where the hell are these fools?!
"I'm waiting another fifteen minutes and I'm leaving" - I angrily type a message and press "Send" furiously.
Time is running out and the message hasn't even been read! Twenty-five minutes... thirty... Still silence. There is no point in waiting any longer.
To clear my conscience, I call again. A melodious female voice is heard from the handset:
- The device of the called subscriber is turned off or is out of network coverage ... - the lady says, slowly repeating the phrase in English.
- Damn you! .. - hissing irritably, I throw the phone on the next seat. - So... Okay.
.. I warned you, I waited... waited longer than promised. Now you can go home with a clear conscience.
Looking down the road, I was surprised to find that I was not so much angry as nervous. It pissed me off even more…
***
There was less and less time left for work, and I continued to pace the apartment. Usually such a calm creak of the floorboards now mocked my poor hearing with all its might. It was by no means the article that occupied my thoughts, despite the fact that they would not forgive me if I screwed up such material...
Minutes passed slowly. I felt them even without the usual ticking of the clock. OK. I will be frank with myself, because my strength is no more, and then to work! All this is strange! What exactly? That I couldn't get through. Yura does not turn off the phone and diligently monitors its charge, he should always be in touch, should I, as a brother, know about this. Also this line from that note, it is no coincidence that it is the very first .
..
So... don't panic. What the hell is this blockhead in general so businesslike settled in my head?! Anything happens. Everything! Article. Only an article.
By an effort of will, I managed to sit down in front of the monitor and even write a couple of lines before I again plunged into thought. And yet... what could have happened?..
***
The days passed like hours, but not mine. I never found the key, and I haven’t tried, to be honest, since that evening. They froze, showing half past nine, as if that day had not yet passed. I didn't show up for work the next morning. I don’t believe it myself... how could I put everything on the altar for the sake of a person whom I was mortally envious of, whose disappearance I dreamed of... the one whom I had known all my life and with whom I was still connected invisibly?!..
And the apartment! Oh... if the old me had seen what my temple of comfort had turned into... however, he would have shot himself right away, leaving behind only the gloomy aesthetics of a broken creator.
.. All the tables were cluttered with dirty mugs and fast food packages. The entire floor is full of shoe marks. Here and there were meticulously compiled lists of those with whom my brother could communicate, where he could go, who could wish him harm...
But none of that mattered anymore...
“- Egor Diskarin? - I heard a calm male voice from my phone this morning.
- Yes. I answered nervously.
- The police are bothering you - my heart threatened to break my chest. It must be from stress and lack of sleep ... And in the meantime, in my head: "If only they could find ...".
- Your brother was found today at noon, - a slight pause, as if to realize what was said, - He is dead. The circumstances of death are being investigated. - just as calmly, as if nothing had happened, the man on the other end of the wire continues. - We offer our condolences. Today you should come to the department ... "
Followed by instructions and occasional questions to which I answered things like “yes”, “no” and “understood”.
Be afraid of your desires. Found...
I spent the next half day in the same department. Some papers, some formalities, a funeral... And a conversation.
From that conversation I learned something that struck me. Yura was suspect. They said that he killed the prisoners by slipping poison into their food or something like that. There was not much evidence, so they only planned to arrest him, but now the main version of my brother's death is suicide during an attempt to escape from justice. What heresy… But at that moment I could not object anything. Exactly like believing even a single word.
And now I'm back in my home again. Devastated, with only one thought in his head: “he is no more”…
What are words? A set of letters, a set of sounds, nothing more... But some become keys. This key with three heavy teeth will open one of the most terrible doors: the door of despair and pain. Maybe I should have phrased it a little more bluntly? But as? What would it change? There is only one key, no matter how you decorate it, and there is only one door, and you are standing on the threshold.
You can't go back. And the castle succumbed. Started...
I look around the apartment with a detached look, slowly falling into a rage.
- Damn! - comes out of the chest. How long have I not uttered this word, - Damn! - I repeat louder, clasping my hands sharply. My whole army of mugs is flying down to the sound of glass. A blanket of scribbled sheets covers them from above.
- Dunce! Brat! Freak! I scream, not remembering myself.
- Look... Look what you've done, you bastard! I lost everything because of you! Inspiration! Work! Dreams! How can I pay my bills now? I've wasted so much time on you, damn it, even the key to the clock... - the silence hurt my ears, so I continued to throw empty phrases, trying to throw out everything that had accumulated inside me. My voice broke, growled and wheezed, turned into hysterical laughter, and I didn’t even understand why I was so angry ... At myself?
Yes... I was jealous of my brother in black! The pride of the family, a great future, office authority, lofty goals, a dream job - everything I wanted to hear about myself, I heard about Yurashi! I remained his little brother, always second, always underestimated.
It was an axiom that everything was easy for him. But for some reason it did not occur to me that we were actually brothers. Our conditions were the same. And I seemed to be blind, I did not see what he had to go through. And what did I do when I got tired of being a shadow? Exactly. He erected that very wall, the wall of indifference. I didn't care. And there is one more drop in the ocean. It was not Yura who closed himself off from me, but I from him. And what did it lead to? “He is no more,” and I can’t even say with certainty that I’m not the brother of the killer! And all because I don't know! I don’t know how he lived all these years, I don’t know what was going on in his soul, I don’t know if he called me to stop the rumors in the bud, or to repent of what he had done even a little to his own creature, albeit such a vile one, how I ... And I will probably never know, my key to this secret is forever lost ... What a blockhead I am ... What are all my arguments about feelings, words, stars, but all about the same keys worth now! How could I have changed the world when I myself could not find those vices for which I reproached mankind?! That's why my articles weren't being read.
When changing the world, start with yourself, otherwise everything is empty words. Gray, alien, distant and unnecessary, in general, no one ... Such words will not become keys ... Keys ... I return to them over and over again. Oh, this world is really crazy about them! We have the keys to everything, they are even where we don’t think to find them, because they have entered our lives so deeply that everything now rests on them alone, and we don’t even notice. Yes, and life itself is like a constant picking of locks! But even that is not important. The important thing is that there is no key leading from There. This is what gives meaning to all other keys. No matter how hard I try, I won't start Yurik's time again like the old clock. But who knows from what doors, I would have taken him away, if only I was there ... It's a pity, I realized it too late ...
- I'll never sit down to write again... - I said to myself, almost delirious, barely recognizing my own hoarse voice. After that, I fell asleep and didn’t think about anything anymore.
***
I spent the next day almost without getting up. Only in the evening I somehow tried to eliminate the consequences of my yesterday's insanity ... But the attempt was nipped in the bud, as soon as the very note that I found among the socks caught my eye ... Surprisingly, all the time while I was busy looking for my brother, I almost did not remember her, as a thing that does not carry any meaning in itself. But there were so many questions connected with it! I re-read it. As expected, nothing new appeared ... And yet ... Why was she needed?
I immersed myself in the memory of the day when I lost the key to the watch, which was so silent for the last week... It seems that since that time I have not turned on the computer... How is it, my old man?
The legacy of the ancestors, as expected, grumbled and buzzed at my long absence, but in the end it had mercy and opened my e-mail page for me. Yurik's letter has not disappeared anywhere. I didn't reread it.
One thing is a note with unclear text, and another is an invitation to a meeting that was not destined to take place ...
"Check your mail..." echoed in my ears. The sudden realization made me jump. What if... This strange text on the back is nothing but a username?..
What nonsense... I'm chasing again, I don't know what... Stupid assumption! But my hands are unstoppable...
Hastily logging out of my account, I entered the symbols into the appropriate box. But you need a password... Password... Another stupid thought... "I never forgot your birthday!" I enter.
Only one digit changed on the monitor, but I didn't believe it. This eternity could not last for one miserable minute.
- It worked… - I said, looking into this luminous box in a frenzy. Another account. And only one letter.
The entire apartment fell into absolute silence as I read what was written here.
“Egor, I knew that you would solve my message! Help out, brother! I need you, we all need you!
For several months now I have been busy with the death of several criminals in custody.
These are not just deaths, Yegor, these are murders. I'm sure I got very close to the solution. I have two prime suspects. But there's a problem. Both of them are my work colleagues. And I don't know if any of them acted alone or in concert. In other words, I don't know who in the police force I can trust with regards to this case.
Also, I notice that I am being watched. Apparently, the attacker feels that I got too close, and will soon try to eliminate me. Well, that's what I use to pinpoint the culprit. How? I told one of us about our upcoming meeting. If I guessed right, and he's not a criminal, then you don't have to read this, I'll tell you everything myself. But, if I made a mistake, and you are still reading this, then most likely I am already dead ...
Brother, now only you can solve this case. And only you can I trust him. To this letter I will attach documents in which my evidence is collected, there you will find the details of the plan, all the names, all the evidence.
Publish them in your journal, let everyone know, and then the villains will have nowhere to go! I hope for you. I know you won't let me down..."0053
For some reason, my heart skipped a beat. Brother... I won't let you down!
***
Never say never. For the next few days, I did not let go of the keyboard. I know, I promised myself, for writing, no, no, but the last, last time! For Yurik! This will be my best article...
And it really became the best. Where did I get it from? Just my blog would not be enough for such an important mission. So I had to visit Fedot Stepanovich. I almost begged him on my knees to read my work. But he still read it. Read it and put it on the first page!
A few days later I had to go to our police station again. There, of course, there are again formalities, thanks, apologies ... But they did not interest me. He was arrested. I wanted to talk to him. With a killer. I wanted to look into his eyes. For help in solving the case, I was even allowed to do so.
I was taken to a special room. He sat opposite me and froze with his cold gaze. But there was nothing in the eyes... He was... Empty. However, the first one spoke.
- Because I saw how souls died, - he answered my question before I had time to ask it, - Every criminal who was brought here did not set foot on this path from a good life. The world has treated them cruelly. It's wild, but for some, crime is still a way to survive. Not for everyone... But I didn't talk to everyone. Do you know why? Because they don't listen, you know? And when I talked to them in this very room, they just wanted to be heard ... And I listened to them, watching how the eyes on the contrary go out, and how hopelessness penetrates into the very heart. They had not yet been sentenced, but they no longer believed that something could be changed. Outcasts of humanity. They could only hide in themselves and wait for the end. Then I gave them the key to freedom. An ampoule with poison, as the end of all torment.
You won't understand, must be...
- And now, being in their place, would you like the same? I asked quietly. My interlocutor was silent. And I continued, - Do you know why? Because there is no key from there. As long as you're alive, you can still fix it...
We talked with him for a while, and then I went out into the street. It was already getting dark and the lights were on. The downpour threw fragments of stars right under my feet, and they flared for a moment with earthly human light, breaking on the wet asphalt. I silently walked along the gray stones of the pavement, finally throwing off my indifferent mask. Raindrops on my cheeks from something became salty. His image stood before my eyes. Indifference. The way I saw him once on Bolotnaya Square - not seeing, not hearing, impregnable. The source of human vices. I wanted to run away from him, and I even ran, as if it could help. God! Who would have known that it hurts so much to open your heart to the world! The dialogue with the murderer still sounded in his thoughts, and his brother's voice echoed in his soul.
