Russian literature:Quote of the day

Bulat Okudzhava , Travel of the amateurs

This piano has been in the house since the duke could remember, and this is when the five year old boy first touched the cold white plank, which suddenly uttered a moan under his fingers. The dead polished box was not so dead. As soon as you would incite it, it would instantly become alive, and the box would turn into some three-legged animal, warm, startling from touch, screaming from pain, exulting, hooting, whistling, furiously uncontrollable, then all of the sudden appeasable, like an old dog.

The little boy made up a game: he carefully walks along the lulled house, forbidding his tutor to accompany him. He sneaks up to the reception room’s door and suddenly throws it open. Unknown, scary, three-legged, huge, and silent, standing motionless in the middle of the room, drawing its wide grinning muzzle to the window. The boy shoves his hand into the animal's jaw, and it roars in bass from fury and pain, and the tutors pale face, like the moon, hangs out from the doorway. The boy squints in fear, but does not stand back. A careful touch, a light stroke, a few warm- hearted words, and the beast transforms. It embraces the boys’ neck with its long tail, purrs, bares a huge multi-tooth jaw in a smile, shivers in respect, squealing, and sings with no words: “Ole-le-le, le-le, li-lya-lyu-li…” The tutor's face returns to color and disappears.