This garbage is all that Beethoven wrote the 14th Sonata on the Moon. You can take notes and see. There is a dedication there. He wrote this very “Moonlight Sonata” to one Russian princess (or countess? - memory to hell). Written from unrequited love, from mental torment, from splashing over the edge of passion and desire. He also wrote to his friend on the pianos. And he, well fed and satisfied with his life, sat in the armchairs, digested dinner, listened, listened, and in the first part, he probably fell asleep. And then he woke up, and he said: “Eh, brother Beethoven, so this is just like at night. The moon there every imagination, the sky, the bushes ... And hotstsa sleep ... ”Ludwig did not say anything to him because he was in love and paid attention only to the words of the object of his adoration.

Since then, many years have passed. Beethoven died long ago. His friend also died, thank God. And this handsome Russian died, which wrote the sonata. But nothing has changed in our bleak world. They still do not understand poets, they still fall in love, they still create the beautiful, which they then distort and adapt to themselves and their poor utilitarian interests.

When not well-fed burghers do not understand, it is unpleasant, but you can not pay attention. When a loved one does not understand - it is time to hang himself.

I was 17 years old. I was smarter, more talented, prettier and better than me present. To all this, I fell in love for the first time in my life in these same 17 years. I fell in love so that I began to write good poems, I didn’t sleep at night and looked out of the window thoughtfully.

- What are you, Kovalev, fell in love? - the teachers on couples asked me.

- Fell in love, Eleonora Mikhailovna! - I answered proudly.

- If you rude - I will drive out ...

“Where is the rudeness here?” - I asked myself. - I honestly answer. And she "expel!". And these fellow students laugh, as if I told God what urgency I said "

But Tanya (the name is fatal, as it turned out, for me), as they say, zero attention is a pound of contempt. I told her a verse, and she was looking at me, as if I had thrown a wet frog at her collar. I told her a poem, and she told me: “What do you want, crazy?” I invite her to a disco, and she says: “I’m going to the house with my friend for my weekend!” to the library, I say: "Then I am also in the library!", and she: "We are with you in different libraries ..."

That's how I fond of her for a year, and then got married ... to another. There it was just obsessive, with my future wife. A flash of passion, a storm of emotions and a flurry of feelings ... I forgot to think about Tanya - everything burned out.

Two years have passed. I became a captain in KVN, and it so happened that we had a performance in my alma mater, which I had successfully completed by that time.

The whole game we had on the rise of some incredible, rivals we just smeared on the floor. In short - a complete triumph. After the game, I fly out into the street, still wondering what is what. Satisfied as an elephant, I communicate with friends, they congratulate me in every way, some girls take pictures with me as a souvenir, some even kiss. And suddenly I notice that one of them takes too long. I tear it away from myself, looking - and this is Tanya. Oops ...

“Excuse me, please.” I was small and stupid then, - without pausing between words and sentences, she says, twirling a button on my shirt. - You played great, I really liked it. You are ...

- Tan ... - I try to stop her.

- ... you do not take offense? I am your poems, which you wrote to me,

- Tan ...

- ... all preserved everything. I read them often. Nobody else wrote poems to me ... And nobody spoke such beautiful words ...

- Tanya!

- What?

- Tan, I'm sorry: please. Here comes my wife and son. I would not want ...

- Sorry. Forget it, she says, and disappears. As it turned out, forever.

“... so that she can hear us,” I mechanically utter into emptiness.

It was the first time I felt that here, just now, I cheated on my wife. The first and, perhaps, the last time.