The wind twirls the snow, wildly carrying
snowflakes on his light wings; he plays.... Playing, he instills
his own order on the streets.... Here on the corner of Pushkin and
Kapluniv Streets, he constructs a complete snow fortress, while on
the other side of Pushkin, he conscientiously sweeps the snow, as
if with a broom, exposing a slippery and bare, ice-covered spot....
And Frost, the Joker himself, is playing; he pinches the air with,
for Kharkiv, an unprecedented low temperature of minus 38 degrees
Down the center of Pushkin Street two women
lumber a small sleigh toward Pushkin Cemetery, one harnessed to the
sleigh in front, the other pushing from behind.... On the sleigh,
tightly fastened with a thick rope, lies a corpse wrapped in a gray
blanket.... Its legs hang from the sleigh rigid and unbendable,
like two logs.... Two weird, thick stumps protrude from beneath the
This funeral does not arouse any curiosity
from the many pedestrians.... Preoccupied, they run quickly past,
huddled, hiding as deeply as possible their blue, generally puffy
faces beneath the collars of their coats....
On the windswept and ice-covered spots, the
sleigh with the corpse slides by itself and the two women run after
it, fruitlessly trying to catch up to the corpse, which bravely
glides toward the cemetery, having stuck out its weird thick stumps
of numb legs....