Stories About Merchants Or Cunning Merchant 24 Baraz's Stories About Various Things And Poems

Baraz said that his grandmother used to do delicious treats in the city before. In particular, he talked about a certain dessert with the strange name " Yutangza".

s.h.i.+rin Yutangza - sweet steam dumplings. Interestingly, 1 kg of flour accounted for 500 grams of powdered sugar, 200 grams of fat cream 50 percent (and you rarely see this now), 30 grams of yeast and 2 cups of water!

Probably, then the time was after the war, people wanted to eat, so the food was very vivid.

This then began to appear books about healthy and delicious food. But I noticed for myself that every new decade - the ideas of healthy eating from the doctors changed!

If they had started looking at Persian or Chinese food from a samog, they would not have had to wrestle with themselves, choosing or discarding what is true and what is not true.

Their food, initially correct, healthy, balanced, healing. Why reinvent the wheel, again and again, when he, the bike, has long been invented.

But their cooking, for thousands of years, reliably, proven practice!

...

You know, I'm a professional trader. He graduated from a merchant school, then he studied at a vocational technical school for 2 years. He worked first as a salesman, they put me in the most penny position, as a bread seller. There is not much to do. After two years, they were transferred to a pastry shop, although there is delicious, but you can't do much either.

Gold mine was selling juices and water. 3 liter jars of tomato paste were brought to us, and here it was possible to dilute it with water, it was not like instoction 1 to 3, but it was possible to completely beat 1 to 5 and no one would have noticed. But sometimes they brought peach juice or apricot with pulp, the juice was expensive, for one gla.s.s for 1 dollar, and here we could dilute it with 1 to 7. The profit was good.

After the service, I went to the police ... but retired, I remembered the trade again. He worked in the wholesale market; he took 20 tons of fruit each day, one third of them were rotten. Did sorting. I had three stores.

In the general business, it is interesting to engage, if not interfere. Then old age made itself felt, arthrosis began. Not to interest already, health is more important. You remember this for ages! Health can not be bought, and if you do it, it will take a lot of money and not everyone has them. Yes, and good doctors left us, remained mediocre. So you have to be treated by self.

By the way, after the arthrosis, I began to write poetry, it seems to be quite good, it turns out to be fun, but look:

That autumn ends

And the snow is showered

Squirrel on the branches

Swinging thoughtfully

Hawk is called!

In my opinion, there with the syllables is not that, rather it is ruby!

But a couple of lines, poetry is very cool!

What are you not writing? I am not a poet, rather a prose writer ... but my content is higher than the form. But real writers, not authors, but writers, are those who also masterly own the form, control people, play on their emotions, make them laugh or cry, resent or have fun.

Well, we are far from them. But, our writing, medicine for us, and this is great!

At the same time, we are far from "their excellencies" - GRUPHERS! They must write 20,000 words a day! This is unbearable!

I can barely write 5,000 words in one day, in the other barely 2,000 words, in the third and 500 it is difficult, and sometimes there are no thoughts at all and I cannot write. Sometimes as a wave rolls, you put music on YouTube Andy Lau and it is written beautifully, even 7000 words a day!

So to write every day, every day, 20,000 words, alas ... which means I'm not a graphomaniac, not their excellency.

Can you, Baraz, write 20,000 words a day?

NOT! I'm not a robot!

Then you still remember about the three laws of robotics Azek Azimov?

I like poems, I like to write myself, look for example:

Light is the last to go

Sun paint golden

Reddish and s.h.i.+ny

How to fascinate eyes - wait

Do not run and do not hide

Beyond the cherished trait

Do not disappear come back

Show off before me

Marvelous light distant clouds

And blazing foliage

The genuine delight

What do you bring by yourself.

or for example this:

A piece of sky

See, here's a piece of sky

Dying day

The symbol, his last light,

The sign, the last line ...

Sonnet Day Completion -

As a result and as an epiphany

Light clear depth

Sounds in the shower string ...

Childhood Pure Consciousness

Come back to us again

And hope and love,

Rejecting wise knowledge

The void of ridiculous dogmas

And the formality is a lie.

- *** -

West quietly burning out -

Wipe the smoke

Purple soars

Over the run - that's the time

n.o.ble clear night

Oh fit, happy eyes -

See a smooth transition

The light of the day in that host of beauty

What is the night sky?

Fabulous beauty

What hides everything by itself -

Besides the pale stars of light

The warmth of your love

And the s.h.i.+ning of the moon ...

You, here you can, something to brag about? Eh. Dara?

Well, what to boast. Somehow on the fifth couple at the university, I wrote poems about students, about the session:

Days of lazy succession

Young fun

And a student at the window

Witty laurels

Retreat and ring

Like a string with a strain

Slogan we tear granite

All Sciences

Session, Session at the threshold

Sweet laziness say sorry

Oh luck don't be cruel

Student's memory do not fail

Wonderful time for exams

A feeling brings the mind sleepy

I did not know something but now forever

I will remember it forever

The fact that the lecture missed

I do not understand the outline of rolling

But now your spirit has enlightened.

And the Holy Session taught

I even wish time had pa.s.sed

Exams somehow we all pa.s.sed

We didn't sleep at nights

But for that luck, we suffered a lot

So let the tin cups rumble

In which beer wasted its time

And answers spurs like forget-me-nots

Garland will decorate you man.

Sea - blue sea boundless

How do I want to be with you

Watch as the wind slips carelessly.

On the waves of your dark foam of the sea

As the waves roll on the coast

And cras.h.i.+ng on the noisy surf

Gentle jets of foam

Feel your foot barefoot

The sea is violent and serene

I would like a fresh drink of your breeze

See the vastness of your vastness

At least from a distance even one eye

The combinations of colors are so wonderful

Dark waves over the abyss of the sea

Lined with snow white foam

What the wind pulls, taking with it

And the sky above them is bottomless

Spinning decorated with radiant clouds

It will look out because of them the sleepy sun

And decorate the foam with radiance of bubbles

And the waves stretch to the horizon

Where the firmament will merge with the sky

The expanse of the two elements illuminated by the sun

Eye enchanting, bringing peace

Let all these visions, but they are amazing

And though I do not bring waves to spray foamy surf

The image of the sea is so amazing

Will always be with me.

So you can write like me? Dara! Feel the moment!

Well, it came to me from this early:

The idea of ​​writing this verse came while waiting for his colleague around the old inst.i.tute founded in 1871. In the park of which two or three century oaks and other mighty trees grew, a concrete aryk flowed a meter deep, with slightly turbid water, the sun penetrated through the foliage to the arychnaya water, which was reflected from the water in various fancy glares. The water came from near the ca.n.a.l, which is why small fish frolicked in the aryk. Then a big b.u.mblebee flew in, fumbled a little near the water and flew away. The colleague was somewhat late, so there was enough time to see this picture of everyday life in the urban ecological niche system.

---

The jet now muddy runs in the aryk, to her

The trees bowed, before the deadline

Dropping leaves gold from branches

That swim a little bit - under the water

Dive rus.h.i.+ng out of sight, rather

Flowing muddy carried away whirlwinds

Amid the unsteady shadows going deep

And the shadow of the sun of those rays

Fry in which will blithely

Muddy waters illuminating the darkness

Scales sparkle in the light ...

Oh if it would go on like this forever!

Near the dam, muddy jet there

It murmurs where the waterfall is in silence ...

Look, flashed like silver

Splas.h.i.+ng waves beautifully rowed like ran

Fish zhivs.h.i.+las mosquito

The light of the sun on the waves of those trembled

In the muddy depths of her glimpse

I saw with curiosity

Among the lazily sinking foliage

The waters of the sun lit the depths.

But once - trembled on the water

Small ripples, and I hear a buzz

And what is this wonderful creation?

That b.u.mblebee, he flew all in a fuss

Voditsy solar to drink

Dust wash your darlings ...

A crown golden poplar

Twinkle like mysteriously nice

Caresses the wind so gentle foliage

Whispering her something about his slurred

Among the interlacing of branches

Autumn gold their land of yellow

And I'm glad here she is all and the b.u.mblebee

Voditsa that ispiv took off in the hops

And I ... and haste to anything

Here at the aryk I go for a long time

Believe it right how good it is

The mind brightens, clearly I judge

The world is so beautiful without bad people

And the hustle and bustle of empty bad ideas.

Yes, Dara, you are definitely a prose writer, you do not have the subtleties of a poet in you!

Clouds sailed slowly.

Over the turquoise sky

Remembering summer

Dara, who do you like poets like?

Lee Bo! He is undoubtedly a talent!

Especially this:

"I am looking at a waterfall in the mountains of Lushan"

For gray smoke in the distance

The sunset is burning

I look at the mountain ranges,

At the falls.

It flies from cloud heights

Through the mountain forest -

And it seems: the Milky Way

Fell from heaven.

It's a pity I don't know Chinese ... in translation, that subtlety and idea of ​​the author is lost, but thanks also to the translator, he seems to be the second author, a new work based on the first original author. I think so, IMHO!

Well ... of course it's a genius!

But he composed his own story about tigers:

in search of truth....

At that time, when the wolf was a guard, a sparrow informer, a fox clerk, there lived one traveler. Wandered through the mountains and valleys, looking for the truth of life, the truth. Once he came across an amazing mountain valley. Only the righteous lived there, those who knew the path of enlightenment. So read the inscription in front of the entrance to this magical place.

The population is all on the selection of wise men, with n.o.ble faces and bright eyes, the speeches are weighed and full of hidden meaning. Gait smooth, do not go, but as if floating on the ground.

The traveler was delighted that he had finally found the truth! Yes, and remained with the permission of the enlightened to live with them. Mind and mind to recruit, enlighten.

A year has pa.s.sed, the second, third, now and the fifth at the end. The traveler brightened his face, was emaciated, carrying out various orders of the righteous, to whom he would put firewood, to whom he would warm the water, to heat the hut.

The great doctrine, knowledge of the world, the essence of things and being was hidden in the work.

Once, a follower of a path to an old building wandered in and found an old book there - a story about a truth seeker who found a magical mountain valley with the righteous ...

The book seemed quite fascinating, but there was a feeling that he had already read it somewhere. Or are all the stories similar to each other? He did not believe in the veracity of the book, but in the subconscious the information was deposited.

Well, it can not be that the enlightened wise men are in fact - age-old tigers, werewolves. Fairy tales for naive simpletons! He, who read the "pocket Oracle", "life experiences", "letters to the sons of the great sages," who knew the secrets of the hidden control of consciousness and the special foundations of psychology, nothing at all. On the fly, he will be able to determine where the falsehood is and where the truth is.

He learned a lot, once the old man descended from a cloud and invited him to the heavenly palaces. The elder noticed the traveler's zeal in comprehending the truth, that is, his efficiency in the household ...

Another year has pa.s.sed. The traveler more and more often found himself thinking that the story that was described in the book for some reason begins to coincide with his life in this place.

Once in a sleepy, soft, sweet slumber, the traveler came to the spring of knowledge. There was a fog, in the gazebo near the source there was hardly any vague shadows. Suddenly, under his feet, he felt something. Has come. Once again. There was a feeling that it was some kind of rope.

It is curious what makes the rope near the source?

There was a terrible roar, then a few more. A gust of wind blew away the fog. The source was enlightened old men, some of them, however, their faces were distorted by anger ... Strange! Something bristled behind their light robes ... Oooh, those were tiger tails !!!

The elders noticed the traveler, their eyes sparkled with fire, rage, there was a loud bang, and then he woke up.

In the morning the traveler discovered that he was lying in the desert at the bottom of a parched well. Two days later, he was found by caravan, and near the well there were tiger tracks. Last year, the traveler did not understand whether it was a dream, inspired by prolonged dehydration or it was a reality.

It seemed to the traveler that he was always followed by someone, sometimes around the house in the morning he would find traces of tigers, but where would they come from in a crowded city?

Tigers do not like when they are attacked by tails and the memory on their faces is good. Salvation from the tiger is only a good roof, for example, the guys from the s.h.i.+eld and sword guild, where the traveler somehow inadvertently ended up. Probably the whole point of kins.h.i.+p, his great-grandfather was one of this guild.

This is the world that seeks enlightenment and truth, where it does not exist - in the tigers' den, itself finds itself in the cold. And the truth is very simple, you don't need to look for it, it's close by, just reach out: help a friend, feed the hungry, remove a branch from the road. That is to be a man and not seek friends.h.i.+p with tigers. Probably something like that.

How do you like it? Dara!

Powerfully written! Philosophy, East !!!