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Letter(s) from Alla to Martin (Germany)
Hi, dear Martin!
I would like this letter to bring you not only my words but the warmth of my heart as well. Today I want you not only to understand my thoughts but also to suggest you seeing with my eyes and feeling with my feelings. I want you to have a walk with me along the streets of my beloved city.
One of the most beautiful streets of the city is Pushkinskaya that has the name of the outstanding Russian poet. Every building in this street differs from neighboring with its own coloring. One is decorated with strict mosaic ornament; another attracts your attention with its stucco molding in baroque style.
And here is Pushkin, a modest monument of a human height, and you have an impression that the poet himself has come out of his house to greet you. You have a wish to take him by the hand but your hand meets not the warmth of a palm but the coldness of bronze.
Pushkinskaya Street leads you to the main street of the city, Deribasovskaya. On the crossing of these two streets there is a tree that is one hundred years old. Its thick trunk of three grasps of both arms is surrounded with cast iron chain because its heavy branches can break during any thunderstorm. Many years passes since the chain was hung and it has plunged into the trunk and on one side of the tree the chain has disappeared in the dark folds of the bark.
I used to walk near this tree when I was a little girl and since that time nothing has changed. I guess many years will pass and this tree will stand here in the center of the city and other children will come to play under this tree.
The Opera House is quite near. This wonderful building is one of the main sights of the city. The balconies give some special coloring of the South. The main entrance is decorated with sculpture compositions of classical comedies and tragedies. The portico of the building is crowned with the sculptures of antic gods and goddesses together with heroes of ancient myths: Orphan who is charming a centaur with his singing… Terpsichore who is teaching the plastic movements of dancing… Melpomena who is taming even wild animals with her magic power of art.
While we are admiring the beautiful architecture of the building the evening comes. Refined street lamps standing there from old times are lit and from the theatre the charming sounds of music are heard. There behind brightly lit windows the fairy theatrical action is taking place.
I would like you to see this unique beauty together with me! Dear Martin, how greatly I am missing you! When will you be near to be able to share everything happening in my heart with you?
My dear Martin, I thank you very much for the answers to my questions. I really enjoyed reading your thoughts. It was very interesting to me!
Hi, dear Martin!
Once I have heard one eastern legend: » They say, that there was a time when people be as strong that the Gods were. Gods got afraid of such competition and broke people’s soul on two halves: male and female, mixed them up and throw them all over the planet.
Since that time the halves are wondering all over the world and look for their mates. And when they find each other, they gain harmony in love, happiness and strength. I would like we to be these halves.
One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart, for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, “Why your heart it not nearly as beautiful as mine”.
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly, but it was full of scars; it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The people stared – how can be say his heart is more beautiful, they thought?
The young man looked at the old man’s heart and saw its state and laughed. “You must be joking”, he said. “Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.” “Yes”, said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you, You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart.
“But, because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.
Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his or her heart to me. These are the empty gouges – giving love is talking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open – reminding me of the love I have for these people. I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?” The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks.
He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his.
They embraced and walked away side by side. How sad it must be to go through life with a whole heart.
You asked to write about my son. My son Maxim shares my tastes and we understand each other perfectly. He is always trying to help me about the house, comforts me if I’m upset for some reason, shares his secrets.
We love each other greatly and are always trying to do something pleasant for each other. He goes to school studies English and teachers are always content with his abilities to learn.
Hello, my sweetheart Martin!
The sun on its paws of a cat sneaked up to my window and a bright ray crept to my face tickling me with its warmth. I stretched sweetly and for long time was unwilling to open my eyes to meet a new day… I had a wonderful dream this night and in the morning I was still in its embrace having no desire to wake up. In my dream I saw us sitting on the top of a hill covered with snow and admiring the landscape below that was stretching like a green carpet. We made a fire and the tongues of it were circling in a mad rhythm of a dance around the carefully placed pieces of wood. We were sitting in silence and watching that dance of an imp. Your hands were giving me more warmth than the fire. The sky was covered with a dark blanket and the moon like a pale spot was peeping out… I was watching the valley stretched bellowed and it seemed to me that a man has never put his foot on those virgin lands. I didn’t feel like talking. I enjoyed the warmth of having you by my side that was slowly filling up my body. I reached out my hands closer to the fire but you decided to warm them with your breathing and started to massage every finger of mine and kissing them one be one. Unwillingly I compared your big and slightly darkened with work hands to mine, small, almost like of a child that I easily put into your palms.
How pleasant it is to have such a strong man near who would never allow anything to destroy that harmony of love. You know for the first time in my life I realized what a pleasure it is to be loved and not to worry for your life, future and family.
When I woke up I couldn’t understand for long why you are missing here and only in a few minutes I realized that it was only a dream but I hope that it will cone true someday.
With love and hope,
P.S. Dear Martin, can you visit me in the nearest future here in Odessa? I would like it so much! Let me know about it
Hi, my dear Martin!
Our romantic night should be the night only for two. There is nobody around!!! Only your tender eyes, only your affectionate smile I should see in front.
And the kiss!...The first kiss, with light touch of the lips, after which a sweet wave will run over the whole body like after the light wind.
A wonderful rose in a crystal vase is giving us its exquisite, intoxicating us a little fragrance. The moon is shining through the dark window.
In our words and in our hearts there exists no line of prose, and deep in soul the jasmine flower is bursting into blossom – the flower of clearness and happiness.
Somebody’s hands are reaching to keys… A languid blues is sounding. It is sounding only for two.
Roses, the moon and the white piano are slowly whirling… The candles are burning reflecting in our eyes that are sparkling with tender fire of love.
And I feel a little bit scared… Are you real? Won’t you disappear like the game of my imagination? Have I really met my close soul?! But the long passionate kiss will reject all my worries and excitement. The thoughts are flying away far and unaware of what I am doing I answer your tender embrace… Dear Martin, when will we have our dating at last?
Hello, dear Martin!
I told you I think a lot about you :-))))))))) . You know, I often try to imagine not only our meeting but the feelings it will bring. Sometimes my fantasies take me to the country of Eros, god of sensual pleasures. I want to be desired by you, to awake your passion.
I imagine us in a big room sunk into darkness. You sit in an armchair and I see only your contours looking like a shadow. But I feel your look and anticipation that tensely penetrates into the surrounding space. I move around the room with light silent steps and I know that I also look like a shadow to you. Smooth light breaks through the curtains. I come up to the window, raise my arms and feel with my skin how you hold you breathe. I let my dress slide slowly and smoothly off my shoulders. You hear how the sound of zip unzips the silence. I switch on the music. Soft and calm melody relaxes us I dance to its smooth rhythm and approach to you. You instinctively stretch out your hand trying to touch me but I slip out and appear behind your back. I bend to you and feel your intermittent breath. My lips slightly touch your maker shoulder just for the moment and you start. I dance in a circular movement and you visit. I bend to you again. You wait for repetition but I don’t want to be predictable, You sit still feeling my breath on your cheek. My tongue tenderly touches you lobe and your feel gentle biting. The moon comes off your lips. My hand slips down your Brest. You only tightly squeeze the armchair exerting the rules of my game. Your body is tense. My fingers draw excitement infects me more and more. I feel warm waves of desire. I do down on your knees leaning to your chest and for a short moment we feel our hearts beating together. And I slip off your knees and hear your sign of disappointment; I swim away from you in this melody and half-darkness. You can’t resist your desire any more. You rise up and come up to me. And when you have only several steps left I open wide the curtains. Golden light of lanterns mixed with the silver of moon pours us with magic light. For a moment you look at me charmed and perplexed but in a second you hold me tight and cover my face, neck and body with hot kisses. We don’t resist our desire any more. Celebrate your victory,
Dear Martin, do you like my fantasies? Are you shocked by my frankness? I just want to share with you something that would let us feel closeness of each other.
My dear Martin, I’d like to say an important thing to you.
My knowledge of English grammar in rather poor, so having written you a letter in Russian, I address to the translator to help me in rendering.
I have a debt I can’t pay myself.
It’s very unpleasant to say, but maybe you could help me to cover my debts and the string of our correspondence, that is very important for me, won’t be torn.
Hi, my dear Martin!
I’m sorry, but it seems to be my last letter. I’ve already written you about my debt for our letter’s translations. My salary is too small and I’m going to settle accounts with the translator during several month.
As I understand, our communication isn’t so important and precious for you as it is for me, otherwise, you would have been concerned about my problem.
Perhaps, I’m mistaken.
With tender and anguish,