One Week Before Christmas. Listening to Paolo Conte

When winter comes to my town, but the grass is as green as in summer, - if only now it is covered with the withered leaves, resembling coffee with milk by their colour, -

When in my town the clouds freeze and become like the heaps of snow, - though, most probably, they remind me of some other town where the heaps of snow are as white as clouds, -

When in my town on the news they speak about shops, turkeys, puddings, presents, postcards, santa clauses, babies in the cradles, - even if not everyone believes in the feast and celebrates it, -

When the streets are silent because nobody likes the cold and tries to leave the house as seldom as possible, - although, of course, one has to go out for newspapers and milk, -

When in my street they hanged about ten multicolour boxes and garlands on a streetlamp, and on the next one, and on the next one, - granted that all boxes are, obviously, empty, -

When from my flat’s window I see the street where people are walking and speaking about the shops, turkeys, presents, and they don’t like cold, - just like the streetlamp where the boxes hang, -

When I hold in my hand a cup with hot chocolate and simply look from my window at people, who walk from the shops with turkeys and presents, - and who don’t like the cold, just like me, -

When the hot chocolate takes me back to my childhood, when you are waiting for a holiday not because this is how it should be, but because you don’t know what a holiday is, - this is the wisest, isn’t it, -

When childhood is visiting as the memories of the snow outside the window, and of the heaps of snow that look like white clouds full of snowfall, - it was so long ago, but I still remember, -

When something pinches strangely in your chest, because there is memory, but the time has gone so far, that, it seems, it’s impossible to remember, - and you don’t want to talk or to listen to anybody, -

Then, finally, I turn a recorder on, and with a husky “tara-ti-tara-hey” begins a miracle, of which I know nothing, - but this is exactly why I believe in it…

*Russian text
*The text references the beginning of Paolo Conte's Sparring Partner.

English translation © Julie Delvaux