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Potapov. I

Morning boulevard

Translated by Roman Mysak

   You want to know how Odessa differs from the other cities? What is its attractive power and unique colour? You can just come to Prymorskiy Boulevard at 6 in the morning. Yes, exactly. Just come at 6 in the morning.

   The first rays of the sun shyly showing up through the hazing looming and then sliding by the huge glassy Odessa hotel at the seaport scarily reflecting and sparkled again but already at the Dukes papyrus in his hand. Swinging and playing a little at the windows on the Ekaterinenskaya square and then vanished in the morning twilight of Voronzovskiy lane.

   Yardmen begin clanging with their buckets, dustpans and start sweeping out flocks of morning fog along the street curbs. Shuuh shuuh, shuuh shuuh

   There are still blinking lights of the street lanterns on a deserted Ekaterininiskaya square, the queen of Russia looks still severe and gloomy. The Duke is thoughtful standing on its pedestal. Some rare invisible locomotive hooter is heard from the port and arms of cranes are dreamily waggling. The sunny disk is flaming through the tree branches web in Pionerskiy square rolling over to the Big Fountain. And night shadows are still moaning in the alley twilight.

   A water cart just come to the Dumskaya Square and begins chattering with spurts of water by a dusty pavement. The sun splashes over unsettled puddles and then splitting up into myriads of fine rays then jumping from one hatch to another, tickle the Dukes chin and flood with light the great Empress. Now the city is awake.