Weavers. Marina Popova

«Снуется нить, скользит челнок,
 рождается новое полотно,
продолжается жизнь...»
Члены Этноклуба «Параскева»




Machines were hammering and roaring effusively. It was unbearably stuffy. Cotton flocks were flying in the air. Many weavers were working hard by sweat of their brow. A weft was twinkling above and under lengthwise threads at high speed. Some machines were used to weave velvet things; others were used for soft, silk, and even woolen materials. Many weavers were weaving light linen fabrics. From weaving machines an unintermitting flow of rolled fabric was automatically getting into storage rooms located by each machine.

Entering some storage rooms one could be suffocated by choking and wicked atmosphere. Toxic fumes emitted by fabrics lifted up in the air poisoning all the living beings.

 Upon a closer look the fabric itself appeared dirty and slimy in places. Its cloth woven from threads of different thickness was covered with dark spots, single light spots and ragged holes.

In other buildings, vice versa, the air was positive and fresh; nourished with the sun it created cozy and quiet atmosphere.

Unfortunately, there were very few such storage rooms, as they were mostly filled with fabrics of different colours combining light and brown spots by half. Only some casual beautiful patterns decorated these cloths.

Finally, some storage rooms full of good cloth with refined offbeat patterns, with rare dark spots or strips inspired the attendants. Those fabrics effused joy which penetrated everything around with love. Being far away from those storage rooms, the mood improved, and peace set in the Heart.

The weavers had been working without rest until their storage room was full of fabrics. In the meantime, the creators of threads - Ghosts flew to them.

The weavers left their machines. They took the weaved cloth and dressed the Ghosts in it. The weavers that worked with light cloth were smiling while wrapping up their Ghosts in beautiful cloths.

Others were crying bitterly wrapping up unhappy Ghosts with layers of dark and dirty cloths! They were shedding tears continuously, and falling drops were leaving light spots on the dark cloth.

That was the way the weavers lived. They continued weaving the cloth of threads stretching from the Earth, using their manual machines, feeding the weft through the cloth base at high speed.

Concurrently other weavers again were wrapping up their Ghosts with different fabrics, as the Ghosts got down to the Earth for new threads for their cloths. Then the weavers forgot about rest again, because the human consciousness was constantly bringing thoughts.

And thoughts in the form of slime, dirty threads or clear pearls were conveyed to the machines creating new cloths of future human lives!

When the man gave to the world beautiful and disinterested thoughts full of wishes of commonwealth, the cloth of his future life was nourished with blue sky colours, shine of snow-white mountain tops, sun rays, delicate scents of lovely flowers, bird’s warbles and happy laugh of children all over the world.

At this time Nature was singing a hymn of joy! The whole Space was exultant over the future happy life of the mankind!





Translated by Tatiana Maslennikova.

Birds in my garden by  Tatiana Oles