浴火鸟 Firebird3.4

网友热议

• 来自网友【蛐蛐】的评论Sergey Festisov美、善、真，三者各行其是，今时今人，才合而为一。——威廉·莎士比亚 能在晋升后不久，就赢得下属信任的中尉，这儿就没几个。这需要一个人从小在孤儿院长大，再很快成长为一名成功的飞行员，并与其他所有士兵友好相处，并非靠投机取巧，而是平易近人。这就不难理解，全心全意投身于军职服务中的指挥官，会在晚上来到我的住所（对于一个空军基地来说，它真的很豪华——两个带保安的全暖气房间，一个连通全基地的电话）。他全然放松，以至于我有时会觉得自己像一个充满爱心的哥哥（老人家的比较），尽管我比他年轻。 即使是惊吒吒如我，虽然总能吓唬吓唬别人，但有时对罗姆卡的如此那般的行为，也不知该作何反应。为了逃离女士们没完没了的关注。他立即把机库建成为一个完美藏身之处。为了避开年轻飞行员通常睡觉的宿舍，他为房子搬来了一张简陋的沙发，经过一番调整，这张沙发成为我睡过的最舒适的床。那个二月的晚上，他刚试飞回来。虽然休息时间只有一个小时，但他直接来找我。我们打好招呼后（我们只有四十五分钟没有见面，但没什么区别），他就躺在沙发上，疑惑地看向我的方向。 虽然在更长的飞行测试期间，我几乎没怎么休息，但我还是留出几分钟热了一盘晚餐带给他。食堂就在隔壁，但即使在那里，烦人的女侍者能给他的也不过是渴望的眼神，而非食物。为了让罗姆卡免受不舒服，我为他点了餐，其他飞行员则帮忙带到了机库。有时是老人家亲自端来了托盘。我总觉得这很有趣，因为他常常会一直看着罗姆卡，把饮料洒出来或打破盘子，同时喃喃自语，不应该有60岁以下的女服务员在空军基地工作。 老人家托着盘子出现时，罗姆卡会开玩笑地假装很慌乱，不知道该把它放在哪里。他会在两个房间里走来走去，最后撞在老人身上，让他爱怜地看个够。在这场演出中，我总是会咯咯咯地放声大笑，让老人家也乐乐呵呵的。然后我会接过托盘，让罗曼坐下吃饭。一旦老人恢复了镇定，他就会祝罗姆卡用餐愉快，然后亲切地咕哝着离开。 有时候，他觉得我把托盘收走得太快，就会俏皮地拍打我的后脑勺，嗔怪我的无情。那天，在享用了精心准备的晚餐、身体暖和起来后，罗曼把一个装满旧衣服的袋子当作我们的枕头，放在他的头下，然后睁着眼睛躺下。我正在干活，假装没注意到他的存在，但他无休止的叹息终于让我站起来，看向帘子后面。然后他变得安静了，当我的眼睛试着适应黑暗，以理解他关注的原因时，他强壮的手臂把我拉近了他的身体，他强大而温柔的吻回答了我所有的问题。我迷失在这个吻中，直到听到他微微的鼾声，才回过神来。不到一个小时后，我会唤醒他，送他进行下一场飞行训练，我会又一次担心，又一次等待他回归。这就是我的罗姆卡的特点——知道我在身旁，在我的亲吻与安哄中，他可以瞬间入睡。这又是另一个故事了。 曾有一天，我刚刚结束了长达18个小时的工作，沮丧地环顾房间，想找出我的枕头。我太累了，再也看不清东西了。罗姆卡又回来晚了，在他回来前，我没法保持清醒，尽管我毫不怀疑他一定会来。无视所有的安全规定，我留着前门没锁。在睡着的那一刻，我记得的最后一件事，是罗姆卡从门口露出来的脑袋、他的微笑、他眼中关切的目光，他把我抱起来紧紧搂住的手。他把我们的外套放在沙发上，让我躺下，实在找不到枕头，就伸出他的手臂让我的头枕在上面。他把我像婴儿一样拉近，开始哼唱类似摇篮曲的什么歌谣。我就是这样睡着的——幸福地微笑着，静静地喘息着。六小时后我醒过来（收音机里正播放着国歌），我的第一个念头就是：“我睡在什么上了？”罗姆卡已经醒了。外面仍然很黑，但他的眼睛燃烧着快乐和喜悦，相比之下，世界上所有的光亮都黯然失色。他的嘴唇说着早上好，并立即给了我当天的第一个吻，而他自由的手试图抚平我乱糟糟的头发。我微微起身，发现他整晚都没换过姿势。他的手臂垫着我的头，尽其所能不打扰我睡眠。他的手臂已经完全失去知觉，所以我赶紧按摩，对自己造成爱人的不适感到自责。罗姆卡的脸上露出了尴尬的微笑，他一直安慰我，在首飞之前，他的手臂会没事的。为了证明他是对的，他试图搂着我，事实上，它已经恢复了力量。然后他轻轻地把我放回沙发上，我的头靠在了突然出现的枕头上（噢，上帝！）。这就是罗曼的特点。我的罗曼！（本章整理翻译完毕👌）Fair, kind, and true, have often liv'd alone, Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.——William ShakespeareThere are not many young lieutenants who soon after their promotion manage to gain the trust of their subordinates. I guess it took the approach of someone who had grown up in an orphanage to quickly establish himself as a successful pilot and befriend all the other soldiers, not by humouring them but rather by finding an approach that suited each individual. Therefore, it was not hard to understand that the new officer in command, fully immersed in the service, came to my dwelling in the evening (for an army base it was truly luxurious— two fully heated rooms with security and a direct telephone connection with the entire base) and relaxed himself to such an extent that I sometimes felt like a loving elder brother (the Old Man's comparison) despite being younger than him.Sometimes Romka's behaviour was such that even I, used to shocking those around me, had no idea how to react. He immediately established that the flight house was the perfect hideaway from the unceasing attention of the ladies. To avoid the dormitories where the young pilots usually slept, he brought to the house a rudimentary couch which, after some adjustments, became the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. On that February evening, he had just returned from the test flights. His break was just one hour long, but he came straight to me. Once we had properly greeted each other (we hadn't met for only forty-five minutes, but it made no difference), he lay down on the couch and questioningly looked in my direction.During the longer test flights I almost never had a break, but I did take a minute to bring him a tray with dinner that I had already warmed up. The mess hall was right next door, but even there the bothersome waitresses managed to give him longing looks instead of food. To spare Romka the unpleasant experience, I was the one who ordered his meals, and other pilots brought them to the flight house. Sometimes the Old Man himself brought the tray. I always found it amusing because, as a rule, he would keep looking at Romka and spill the drinks or break the dishes while muttering that there should be no waitresses younger than sixty working at an army base.Romka would jokingly pretend that the Old Man's appearance with the tray made him so flustered he had no idea where to put it. He would walk around the two rooms and finally bump into the Old Man and let him have a long, admiring look. During this performance I would usually openly giggle and let the Old Man enjoy himself. Then I would take away the tray and sit Roman down so that he could finish his meal. Once the Old Man had regained his composure, he would wish Romka a pleasant meal and, grumbling kindheartedly, take his leave.On the days when he thought I took the tray away too quickly, he would playfully slap the back of my head and admonish me for my heartlessness. That day, after having a hearty meal and finally warming up, Roman put a bag full of old clothes that served us as a pillow underneath his head and lay down with his eyes open. I was working and pretended not to notice his presence, but his endless sighs finally made me get up and look behind the curtain. He then became still, and while my eyes tried to adjust to the darkness so that I could try to understand the reason for his preoccupation, his strong arms pulled me close to his body, and his powerful yet gentle kiss answered all my questions. The kiss consumed me to such a degree that I only came to my senses when I heard his light snoring. In less than an hour, ! would wake him up and send him off to the next flight, and I would worry and yet again wait for his return. That's what my Romka was like he could fall asleep in an instant, knowing that I was close and lulled to sleep by my kiss. Here is another story. Once, having just finished my eighteen-hour-long working day, I dejectedly looked around the room trying to find my pillow. I was so tired I could no longer see straight. Romka was late, and I could not manage to stay awake until his return, though I had no doubt that he would come. Disregarding all the safety regulations, I left the front door unlocked. The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was Romka's head in the doorway, his smile, the sympathetic look in his eyes, and his hands that scooped me up and held me close. He put our coats on the couch, laid me down, and, after unsuccessfully trying to find the pillow, placed my head on his outstretched arm.He pulled me close like a baby and started humming something that resembled a lullaby. That was how I fell asleep— smiling blissfully and quietly wheezing. I woke up six hours later (the national anthem was playing on the radio), and my first thought was, "What am I sleeping on?" Romka was already awake. It was still dark outside, but his eyes were burning with such happiness and delight that all the lights in the world would fade in comparison. His lips wished me a good morning and immediately gave me the first kiss of the day, while his free hand tried to smooth out my wild hair. I raised myself slightly and discovered that he had not moved all night. His arm supported my head, and he had done everything in his power not to disturb my sleep. His arm had lost all feeling, so I started to massage it, angry at myself for causing my love discomfort. An embarrassed smile appeared on Romka's face, and he kept telling me that his arm would be all right before the first flight. To prove that he was right, he tried to put his arm around me, and indeed, it had regained its strength. He then gently placed me back down on the couch, and my head rested on (Oh, God!) the pillow that had suddenly made its appearance. And that was what Roman was like.My Roman.