I want to sleep read Chekhov, I want to sleep read Chekhov for free, I want to sleep read Chekhov online

I want to sleep read Chekhov, I want to sleep read Chekhov for free, I want to sleep read Chekhov online

I want to sleep

I want to sleep. Anton Pavlovich Chekhov

Night. Nanny Varka, a girl of about thirteen, rocks the cradle in which the child lies, and purrs faintly:

Hush, Little Baby, Do not Say a Word,

And I'll sing a song...

A green lamp is burning in front of the image; A rope stretches across the entire room from corner to corner, on which diapers and large black trousers hang. The lamp casts a large green spot on the ceiling, and the diapers and pantaloons cast long shadows on the stove, the cradle, on Varka... When the lamp begins to blink, the spot and shadows come to life and begin to move, as if from the wind. It's stuffy. It smells like cabbage soup and shoemaking.

The baby is crying. He has long been hoarse and exhausted from crying, but he is still screaming, and it is not known when he will stop. And Varka wants to sleep. Her eyes are stuck together, her head is pulled down, her neck hurts. She cannot move either her eyelids or her lips, and it seems to her that her face is dry and stiff, that her head has become small, like the head of a pin.

“Bai-baiushki-bai,” she purrs, “I’ll make you some porridge...”

A cricket is screaming in the stove. In the next room, behind the door, the owner and apprentice Afanasy are snoring... The cradle creaks pitifully, Varka herself purrs - and all this merges into nightly, soothing music, which is so sweet to listen to when you go to bed. Now this music only irritates and depresses, because it makes you drowsy, but you can’t sleep; If Varka, God forbid, falls asleep, the owners will kill her.

The lamp is flashing. The green spot and shadows begin to move, creep into Varka’s half-open, motionless eyes and in her half-asleep brain they form into foggy dreams. She sees dark clouds chasing each other across the sky and screaming like a child. But then the wind blew, the clouds disappeared, and Varka saw a wide highway covered with liquid mud; carts stretch along the highway, people trudge along with knapsacks on their backs, some shadows rush back and forth; on both sides, forests are visible through the cold, harsh fog. Suddenly people with knapsacks and shadows fall to the ground in liquid mud. “Why is this?” – asks Varka. "Sleep sleep!" - they answer her. And they fall asleep soundly, sleep sweetly, and crows and magpies sit on the telegraph wires, scream like a child, and try to wake them up.

“Bay-bayushki-bay, and I’ll sing a song...” Varka purrs and already sees herself in a dark, stuffy hut.

Her late father Efim Stepanov is tossing and turning on the floor. She doesn't see him, but she hears him rolling on the floor in pain and groaning. He, as he says, “had a hernia.” The pain is so strong that he cannot utter a single word and only sucks in air and beats a drum with his teeth:

- Boo-bu-bu-bu...

Mother Pelageya ran to the estate to tell the gentlemen that Efim was dying. She left a long time ago, and it’s time for her to return. Varka lies on the stove, does not sleep and listens to her father’s “boo-boo-boo”. But then I heard someone drive up to the hut. It was the gentlemen who sent a young doctor who came to visit them from the city. The doctor enters the hut; he is not visible in the darkness, but you can hear him coughing and clicking the door.

“Light the fire,” he says.

“Boo-boo-boo...” Efim answers.

Pelageya rushes to the stove and begins to look for a shard with matches. A minute passes in silence. The doctor, rummaging in his pockets, lights his match.

“Now, father, now,” says Pelageya, rushes out of the hut and returns a little later with a cinder.

Yefim’s cheeks are pink, his eyes are shining and his gaze is somehow especially sharp, as if Yefim sees right through both the hut and the doctor.

- Well? What did you think of this? - says the doctor, bending over to him. - Hey! How long have you had this?

- What, sir? The time has come to die, your honor... I won’t be alive...

- It’s complete nonsense to talk... We’ll cure you!

- It’s as you wish, your honor, we humbly thank you, but only we understand... If death has come, what can we do?

The doctor fusses with Yefim for a quarter of an hour; then he gets up and says:

“I can’t do anything... You need to go to the hospital, they will perform an operation on you.” Go now... Definitely go! It’s a little late, everyone in the hospital is already asleep, but that’s okay, I’ll give you a note. Do you hear?

- Father, what will he drive? - says Pelageya. - We don't have a horse.

- Nothing, I’ll ask the gentlemen, they will give me a horse.

The doctor leaves, the candle goes out, and again “boo-boo-boo” is heard... Half an hour later, someone drives up to the hut. The gentlemen sent a cart to go to the hospital. Efim gets ready and goes...

But then a good, clear morning comes. Pelageya is not at home: she went to the hospital to find out what is happening with Yefim. Somewhere a child is crying, and Varka hears someone singing in her voice:

- I'll bay, bay, bay, and I'll sing a song...

Pelageya returns; she crosses herself and whispers:

- They set him back at night, and by the morning he gave his soul to God... The kingdom of heaven, eternal peace... They say they captured it too late... It should have been earlier...

Varka goes into the forest and cries there, but suddenly someone hits her on the back of the head with such force that she hits her forehead on a birch tree. She looks up and sees the owner-shoemaker in front of her.

- What are you, lousy? - he says. - The child is crying, and you are sleeping?

He pats her painfully behind the ear, and she shakes her head, rocks the cradle and purrs her song. The green spot and shadows from the pantaloons and diapers fluctuate, blink at her and soon take over her brain again. Again she sees a highway covered with liquid mud. People with knapsacks on their backs and shadows lie down and sleep soundly. Looking at them, Varka passionately wants to sleep; She would lie down with pleasure, but Pelageya’s mother walks nearby and hurries her. Both of them are in a hurry to get hired in the city.

- Give alms for Christ's sake! - the mother asks those she meets. - Show divine mercy, merciful gentlemen!

- Bring the child here! – someone’s familiar voice answers her. - Bring the child here! - repeats the same voice, but this time angrily and harshly. -Are you sleeping, vile?

Varka jumps up and, looking around, understands what’s going on: there is no highway, no Pelageya, no oncoming people, and standing in the middle of the room is only the housewife, who has come to feed her child. While the fat, broad-shouldered housewife feeds and comforts the child, Varka stands, looks at her and waits for her to finish. And outside the windows the air is already turning blue, the shadows and the green spot on the ceiling are noticeably paler. It's soon morning.

- Take it! - says the hostess, buttoning her shirt on her chest. - Crying. They must have jinxed it.

Varka takes the baby, puts him in the cradle and starts rocking him again. The green spot and shadows gradually disappear, and there is no one to get into her head and fog her brain. But I still want to sleep, I really want to! Varka puts her head on the edge of the cradle and rocks her whole body to overcome sleep, but her eyes still stick together and her head is heavy.

- Varka, light the stove! – the owner’s voice is heard outside the door.

This means it’s time to get up and get to work. Varka leaves the cradle and runs to the barn for firewood. She is glad. When you run and walk, you don’t want to sleep as much as when you’re sitting. She brings firewood, lights the stove and feels how her stiff face straightens and how her thoughts become clearer.

- Varka, put on the samovar! - the hostess shouts.

Varka stabs a torch, but barely has time to light it and put it in the samovar when a new order is heard:

- Varka, clean the owner’s galoshes!

She sits on the floor, cleans her galoshes and thinks that it would be nice to stick her head into a large, deep galosh and take a nap in it for a little while... And suddenly the galoshes grow, swell, fill the whole room, Varka drops the brush, but immediately shakes her head, her eyes popping out. and tries to look so that objects do not grow or move in her eyes.

- Varka, wash the outside of the stairs, otherwise the customers are ashamed!

Varka washes the stairs, cleans the rooms, then turns on another stove and runs to the shop. There is a lot of work, there is not a single minute free.

But nothing is as hard as standing in one place in front of the kitchen table and peeling potatoes. He pulls his head toward the table, the potatoes dazzle in his eyes, the knife falls out of his hands, and a fat, angry housewife walks nearby with her sleeves rolled up and speaks so loudly that her ears are ringing. It is also painful to serve at dinner, do laundry, and sew. There are moments when you want to, without looking at anything, collapse on the floor and sleep.

The day passes. Watching the windows darken, Varka squeezes her woody temples and smiles, not knowing why. The evening darkness caresses her drooping eyes and promises her a quick, sound sleep. In the evening, guests come to the owners.

- Varka, put on the samovar! - the hostess shouts.

The owners' samovar is small, and before the guests drink tea, they have to heat it up five times. After tea, Varka stands in one place for a whole hour, looking at the guests and waiting for orders.

- Varka, run and buy three bottles of beer!

She takes off and tries to run faster to drive away the sleep.

- Varka, run for vodka! Varka, where is the corkscrew? Varka, clean the herring!

But finally the guests left; the lights are extinguished, the owners go to bed.

- Varka, rock the baby! - the last order is given.

A cricket is screaming in the stove; the green spot on the ceiling and the shadows from her trousers and diapers again creep into Varka’s half-open eyes, blink and cloud her head.

“Bay-bayushki-bayu,” she purrs, “and I’ll sing a song...

And the child screams and is exhausted from screaming. Varka again sees the dirty highway, people with knapsacks, Pelageya, and Father Yefim. She understands everything, recognizes everyone, but half asleep she just can’t understand the force that fetters her arms and legs, crushes her and prevents her from living. She looks around, looking for this power to get rid of it, but doesn’t find it. Finally, exhausted, she strains all her strength and vision, looks up at the blinking green spot and, listening to the cry, finds an enemy who is preventing her from living.

This enemy is a child.

She is laughing. She is surprised: how could she not understand such a trifle before? The green spot, the shadows and the cricket also seem to laugh and be surprised.

A false idea takes possession of Varka. She gets up from the stool and, smiling widely, without blinking her eyes, walks around the room. She is pleased and tickled by the thought that she will now get rid of the child who is shackling her arms and legs... Kill the child, and then sleep, sleep, sleep...

Laughing, winking and threatening the green spot with her fingers, Varka creeps up to the cradle and leans towards the child. Having strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughs with joy that she can sleep, and a minute later she is sleeping soundly, like the dead...

1888

Anton Chekhov - I want to sleep

 about the work
Night. Nanny Varka, a girl of about thirteen years old, rocks the cradle in which the child lies, and purrs faintly: I bay, bay, bay, and I will sing a song... A green lamp is burning in front of the icon; A rope stretches across the entire room from corner to corner, on which diapers and large black trousers hang. The lamp casts a large green spot on the ceiling, and the diapers and pantaloons cast long shadows on the stove, the cradle, on Varka... When the lamp begins to blink, the spot and shadows come to life and begin to move, as if from the wind. It's stuffy. It smells like cabbage soup and shoemaking. The baby is crying. He has long been hoarse and exhausted from crying, but he is still screaming and it is not known when he will stop. And Varka wants to sleep. Her eyes are stuck together, her head is pulled down, her neck hurts. She cannot move either her eyelids or her lips, and it seems to her that her face is dry and stiff, that her head has become small, like the head of a pin. “Bay-bayushki-bayu,” she purrs, “I’ll make you some porridge... A cricket screams in the stove.” In the next room, behind the door, the owner and apprentice Afanasy are snoring... The cradle creaks pitifully, Varka herself purrs - and all this merges into nightly, soothing music, which is so sweet to listen to when you go to bed. Now this music only irritates and depresses, because it makes you drowsy, but you can’t sleep; If Varka, God forbid, falls asleep, the owners will kill her. The lamp is flashing. The green spot and shadows begin to move, creep into Varka’s half-open, motionless eyes and in her half-asleep brain they form into foggy dreams. She sees dark clouds chasing each other across the web and screaming like a child. But then the wind blew, the clouds disappeared, and Varka saw a wide highway covered with liquid mud; carts stretch along the highway, people trudge along with knapsacks on their backs, some shadows rush back and forth; on both sides, forests are visible through the cold, harsh fog. Suddenly people with knapsacks and shadows fall on the ground in liquid mud. - “Why is this?” - asks Varka. - "Sleep sleep!" - they answer her. And they fall asleep soundly, sleep sweetly, and crows and magpies sit on the telegraph wires, scream like a child, and try to wake them up. “Bay-bayushki-bay, and I’ll sing a song...” Varka purrs and already sees herself in a dark, stuffy hut. Her late father Efim Stepanov is tossing and turning on the floor. She doesn't see him, but she hears him rolling on the floor in pain and groaning. He, as he says, “had a hernia.” The pain is so strong that he cannot utter a single word and only sucks in the air and beats a drum roll with his teeth: “Boo-boo-boo-boo...” Mother Pelageya ran to the estate to tell the gentlemen that Yefim was dying. She left a long time ago and it’s time for her to return. Varka lies on the stove, does not sleep and listens to her father’s “boo-boo-boo”. But then I heard someone drive up to the hut. It was the gentlemen who sent a young doctor who came to visit them from the city. The doctor enters the hut; he is not visible in the darkness, but you can hear him coughing and clicking the door. “Light the fire,” he says. “Boo-boo-boo...” Efim answers. Pelageya rushes to the stove and begins to look for a shard with matches. A minute passes in silence. The doctor, rummaging in his pockets, lights his match. “Now, father, now,” says Pelageya, rushes out of the hut and returns a little later with a cinder. Yefim’s cheeks are pink, his eyes are shining and his gaze is somehow especially sharp, as if Yefim sees right through both the hut and the doctor. - Well? What did you think of this? - says the doctor, bending over to him. - Hey! How long have you had this? - What, sir? To die, your honor, the time has come... I won’t be alive... - It’s complete nonsense to talk... We’ll cure you! - It’s as you wish, your honor, we humbly thank you, but only we understand... If death has come, what can we do? The doctor fusses with Yefim for a quarter of an hour; then he gets up and says: “I can’t do anything... You need to go to the hospital, they will perform an operation on you.” Go now... Definitely go! It’s a little late, everyone in the hospital is already asleep, but that’s okay, I’ll give you a note. Do you hear? - Father, what will he drive? - says Pelageya. - We don't have a horse. “Nothing, I’ll ask the gentlemen, they’ll give me a horse.” The doctor leaves, the candle goes out, and again “boo-boo-boo” is heard... Half an hour later, someone drives up to the hut. The gentlemen sent a cart to go to the hospital. Efim gets ready and goes... But then a good, clear morning comes. Pelageya is not at home: she went to the hospital to find out what is happening with Yefim. Somewhere a child is crying, and Varka hears someone singing in her voice: “Bay-bayushki-bayu, and I’ll sing a song... Pelageya returns; she crosses herself and whispers: “They set him straight at night, and by morning he gave his soul to God... The kingdom of heaven, eternal peace... They say they captured it too late... They should have done it earlier... Varka goes into the forest and cries there, but suddenly someone hits her on the back of the head with such force that she hits her forehead on a birch tree. She looks up and sees the owner-shoemaker in front of her. - What are you, lousy? - he says. - The child is crying, and you are sleeping? He pats her painfully behind the ear, and she shakes her head, rocks the cradle and purrs her song. The green spot and the shadows from her pantaloons and diapers fluctuate, blink at her and soon take over her brain again. Again she sees a highway covered with liquid mud. People with knapsacks on their backs and shadows lie down and sleep soundly. Looking at them, Varka passionately wants to sleep; She would lie down with pleasure, but Pelageya’s mother walks nearby and hurries her. Both of them are in a hurry to get hired in the city. - Give alms for Christ's sake! - the mother asks those she meets. - Show divine mercy, merciful gentlemen! - Bring the child here! — someone’s familiar voice answers her. - Bring the child here! - repeats the same voice, but this time angrily and harshly. - Do you hear, vile? Varka jumps up and, looking around, understands what’s going on: there is no highway, no Pelageya, no oncoming people, and standing in the middle of the room is only the housewife, who has come to feed her child. While the fat, broad-shouldered housewife feeds and comforts the child, Varka stands, looks at her and waits for her to finish. And outside the windows the air is already turning blue, the shadows and the green spot on the ceiling are noticeably paler. It's soon morning. - Take it! - says the hostess, buttoning her shirt on her chest. - Crying. They must have jinxed it. Varka takes the baby, puts him in the cradle and starts rocking him again. The green spot and shadows gradually disappear and there is no one to get into her head and fog her brain. But I still want to sleep, I really want to! Varka puts her head on the edge of the cradle and rocks her whole body to overcome sleep, but her eyes still stick together and her head is heavy. - Varka, light the stove! — the owner’s voice is heard outside the door. This means it’s time to get up and get to work. Varka leaves the cradle and runs to the barn for firewood. She is glad. When you run and walk, you don’t want to sleep as much as when you’re sitting. She brings firewood, lights the stove and feels how her stiff face straightens and how her thoughts become clearer. - Varka, put on the samovar! - the hostess shouts. Varka stabs a torch, but barely has time to light them and put them in the samovar, when a new order is heard: “Varka, clean the owner’s galoshes!” She sits on the floor, cleans her galoshes and thinks that it would be nice to stick her head into a large, deep galosh and take a nap in it for a little while... And suddenly the galoshes grow, swell, fill the whole room, Varka drops the brush, but immediately shakes her head, her eyes popping out. and tries to look so that objects do not grow and do not move in her eyes. - Varka, wash the outside of the stairs, otherwise the customers are ashamed! Varka washes the stairs, cleans the rooms, then turns on another stove and runs to the shop. There is a lot of work, there is not a single minute free. But nothing is as hard as standing in one place in front of the kitchen table and peeling potatoes. He pulls his head toward the table, the potatoes dazzle in his eyes, the knife falls out of his hands, and a fat, angry housewife walks nearby with her sleeves rolled up and speaks so loudly that her ears are ringing. It is also painful to serve at dinner, do laundry, and sew. There are moments when you want to, without looking at anything, collapse on the floor and sleep. The day passes. Watching the windows darken, Varka squeezes her woody temples and smiles, not knowing why. The evening darkness caresses her drooping eyes and promises her a quick, sound sleep. In the evening, guests come to the owners. - Varka, put on the samovar! - the hostess shouts. The owners' samovar is small, and before the guests drink tea, they have to heat it up five times. After tea, Varka stands in one place for a whole hour, looking at the guests and waiting for orders. - Varka, run and buy three bottles of beer! She takes off and tries to run faster to drive away the sleep. - Varka, run for vodka! Varka, where is the corkscrew? Varka, clean the herring! But finally the guests left; the lights are extinguished, the owners go to bed. - Varka, rock the baby! - the last order is given. A cricket is screaming in the stove; the green spot on the ceiling and the shadows from her trousers and diapers again creep into Varka’s half-open eyes, blink and cloud her head. “Bay-bayushki-bayu,” she purrs, “and I’ll sing a song... And the child screams and is exhausted from screaming.” Varka again sees the dirty highway, people with knapsacks, Pelageya, and Father Yefim. She understands everything, recognizes everyone, but half asleep she just can’t understand the force that fetters her arms and legs, crushes her and prevents her from living. She looks around, looking for this power to get rid of it, but doesn’t find it. Finally, exhausted, she strains all her strength and vision, looks up at the blinking green spot and, listening to the cry, finds an enemy who is preventing her from living. This enemy is a child. She is laughing. She is surprised: how could she not understand such a trifle before? The green spot, the shadows and the cricket also seem to laugh and be surprised. A false idea takes possession of Varka. She gets up from the stool and, smiling widely, without blinking her eyes, walks around the room. She is pleased and tickled by the thought that she will now get rid of the child who is shackling her arms and legs... To kill the child, and then sleep, sleep, sleep... Laughing, winking and threatening the green spot with her fingers, Varka creeps up to the cradle and leans towards the child. Having strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughs with joy that she can sleep, and a minute later she is sleeping soundly, like the dead...



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