My girl It's night now. One Christmas night. All the unarmed warriors in my little fortress fell asleep. Neither your brother nor your sister are awake. Even your mother is already asleep. I almost woke the sleeping birds until I reached this dimly lit room. I am so far from you! But let me go blind, if even for a moment your portrait has disappeared from my eyes. It is here - on the table, here - next to my heart. But where are you? There - in the fabulous Paris, you dance on the majestic I know this, and as if in the quiet night I hear your footsteps, I see your eyes shining like stars in the winter darkness. I heard that your role in this festive and bright show is the rally of a Persian beauty captivated by Khan Tatar. Be beautiful and dance! Be a star and shine! But if you delight and the gratitude of the audience intoxicate you, if the scent of flowers sent for you makes you dizzy, you sit in a corner, read my letter and listen to the voice of his father. I am your father, Geraldine! I'm Charlie, Charlie Chaplin! Do you know how many nights I sat by your bed to tell you stories when you were little - about the Sleeping Beauty, about the awake dragon in the field… And when the dream came in my old eyes, I laughed at him and said: "Go away ! I sleep with my daughter's dreams! "I saw a girl play on stage, a fairy dancing in the sky. I heard the audience say," Do you see this girl. She is the daughter of the old jester. Do you remember her name - Charlie ? " Yes! I'm Charlie! I'm the old jester! Today is your turn. Dance! I danced in wide and torn pants, and you in a silk princess dress. These dances and the noise of applause will sometimes lift you to the heavens. Go! Go there too! Don't go back to the land! And look at the lives of the people, the lives of those street dancers in the slums who play hungry and tremble with cold and poverty. I was like them, Geraldine! In those nights, in those fabulous nights In which he fell asleep with my tales, I stayed awake. I looked at your face, felt your heartbeat and wondered, "Charlie! Will this kitten ever know you?" You don't know me, Geraldine. told in those distant nights, I never told my story… And it's also interesting… A story about a hungry jester who danced and sang in the slums of London and then… collected alms… This is my story! hunger, I know what it means to be homeless! Moreover, I have experienced the humiliating pain of the wandering jester, in whose chest a whole ocean of pride rages, and the tossed coins had to dry him up, but nevertheless I am alive, and for the living little is said. We better talk about you! After your name, Geraldine, is mine - Chaplin. With him I made people laugh on earth for more than forty years. But I cried more than they dared, Geraldine! In the world you live in, there are not only dances and music! .. At midnight, when you leave the big hall, you forget the rich fans, but don't forget to ask the taxi driver who takes you home about his wife… And if she is pregnant, if she has no money to buy a child's clothes, put money on you in his hand ..... This is just part of Charlie Chaplin's letter to his daughter Geraldine. and it just aims to make us think a little about our lives and stop worrying about nonsense, because everything in life is transient and it's not worth getting angry about everything and it's best in most cases to remember and the song - Don't worry, be happy
Няма коментари:
Публикуване на коментар