7$2#40o0o0o0o0o0}J0000 000<19x01 11*20o Om Paradise isa sparkler. From a little branch it separates with a burst; it stars; andthe tail pours out; and plumes drip through like a comet; andit huffs its wings: the bird of paradise! And then from the fires and the shadows striping boils through; andit roars: this isa tigrish beast, named by me a tiger for plays of shadows and fires, imaging its luminous membrane: tigress Here the World Tree raises up a wingplume; in the middle puffs up the Disk, bending its biwings and falling as a rain of luminousrose plumes, imaging a body: It bursts and He bursts his breast beats out an enormous illum- beats out with a Sword; ating geyser, shooting a borne past by Love: pillar, like a Sword, by Fire, like a Sword into the worlds into the worlds Nothing! Everything! I recognize, that that Sword is the Archangel; they call him Ra phael: Raphael Sound of the burst ing! Yes, Paradise is a sparkler! Trees, are grabbed by a hungout lampglass, by a clear seethrough silversheet in a thousandbranched Candelabrum of Light, penetrated by the golden warmth of cannetille and red luminosity; everything there is, grabbed onto itself with the luminous cannetille; everything isthreads and beads; flowers, like little lanterns; and not fruits, but spheres gamboled in sparks, in play: tigers! From afar, where the Seven Rivers begana palm forest is begotten from the melting of corals (trunks) and it moves with coronas of luminousplumed palmettos, imaging the just begin-ning to breathe, motley, striped heavens: yes, in Persia these colored carpets area solidification of the ancient heavens: from Persia they saw (from afar) the illumination from the Tigris; the flying fireworks of Paradise; to there Zarathustra, perhaps, was invited at times!.. In the firmament labradorite soils, intoxicated, foams the Euphrates, striking the shore with a pearly bead; and the Tigrisroams around: into the steep Labrador (somewhere afar); above the Labradorite lump, raised up higher than the heavens, there burst,as if trumpets: tambourines: O! Om! Miramma! Andit is repeated: He, the world,Brahma. And it is written : Mahabharata: I consolidated in continuations of my life the rising sound: Om-mir-mira-am-amo-! Ineffable World, marvellous one, I love you! Amma-amo-mam O, nurturess, mama! mama loving: youare mater of matter! Ram-rama-brahm- Hero, dedicated, brahma! like god! And we here fell apart into exclamations: and from the exclamations collected a responsorial exclamation: O! Om! Ommiramma! . . . . . . . . . . We knew: Ommiramma is walking in the gardenthe Invisible; I remember we see the composition of the Candelabra of Light, crossed, stormily bursting flames, in which he walks, and the flame, like the Bush, blazes, at its summit, from here, from the Lamplights, he pours out a pearly beard (and the waterfall of the beard is called god); boiling imageries pour down into the cupped hand of the palms placed by us, astras (or stars); we insert astras into the storm of the luminosity; and the cannetille collects into a body: into the astral; thus we image the circle of the Life, or animal life; this is the act of naming. The Bearded Stream is a collection of Luminaries, or of Beginnings: the Beard, poured out from the Stream, the Beginnings: of Time. The luminous bifinger rarely shows itself in the Candlelights; anda strange occurrence, the strange Composition of Candelabra of Light, moves: further! . . . . . This was a live passing Tree, from whose fruits we were sated; the Collegium of Candlelights, or of Beginningsof Time; they area circle. But one of the Candlesticks, Dykirion, fell,a candlestick of the Composition, crawled like the staff of a candleholder; having placed out the candles like horns, having appropriated the name of the enormous circle of Beginnings: thus appeared the Serpentendless Time, which had lost its own beginning; this beginning was left in the Composition of Beginnings. Very soon Dykirion fell apart into Dy and Kirion; thus appeared in paradise an imposter, calling himself the Marvelous Leader; he taught us to taste the stars of the Stream, which solidified in our throat like the sinful apples: I remember, how, sweeping me out of paradise with a storm, the golden cannetille was borne, at one time sacredwas borne, flying about: amid the soils and the lands, near the Tigris, where I poured out all my working perspirations: thus I sowed near the Tigris the expanses of swampy places with culex, infecting me with malaria ah, ask, please, a Mesopotamian: are the places of the Tigris healthy; he scratches himself under the turban, confused: Not very, sahib! . . . . . Occupied with the complication of stone, the firm pillars, from which later our Babylonian captivity was complicated, I was not very; however: it was still bearable for a while: while the patriarchs led, I understood: they are the Fathers from the Beginnings, or Papas; I guessed their meaning: a patriarchdisguised as a Candlelight of Compositions, wrapped in chausables: like the old, Nativity Ruprecht, he put on the gray, curly beard, he sprinkles it with salt, so that it sparkles, and he puts up to the Countenancelessness his nose (from cardboard) and, clothing himself in fine linen; sticking out golden humps, like a priest, he gives up his life only with ends of uplifted fires of lights,first the jagged corona, then the diamond miter, reminding one of the patriarchs universal miter; and he places on the small table a cup: with the testaments, clarifying to us the period of his appearance; The patriarch reveals a period, he leads one through; then at the threshold of another, suddenly he becomes Enoch: he is taken to heaven, leaving: blank fine linen, an enormous beard, a nose!.. Today Papa leads us: Methuselah led formerly; Abraham led, who elsewill lead? Thus it was revealed, that the patriarchs areEnochs; Methuselah wasEnoch; Melchizedekthe same; that is, one who is taken alive to heaven, arraying himself at the descension from heaven to earth in venerable, patriarchal, elderschausables and reliquaries: yes, yes: elders image a union: elders firmly know how to be crabby and quarryfaced: they quarry in the heavens, where all elders, imaging one eldernessthunder out testaments with a mum-bling roar; and pshaw sanctitites; you do not hear the words: but you do hear: sheer incomprehensibility, toothlessly reprimanding with a whisper: Bff! Bff! Beff, beff, beff! in peals, where th-o ss ss ss Those, who! They arein Papa; and they are only he: electricity, patriarchy; those, whoin Papochka Papochka isalso Enoch: having tied on his beard and tied on like a live frog, his nose,from under the nose he enochs: a sacred testament! He isin his morning, gray housecoat, sewn with velveteen trim, with tassels, sewn with raspberry velveteen trimmed sleeves, reminding one of the patriarchal vestment,he inserted into my little breast this fateful knowledge; frightened by the fact that Mamochka often burst into the dining room, he began to lock me in the study in the morning and narrated on the go to me, washing and chuckling with splashes, about the patriarchs, forever binding us with him, performing a religious rite before the faucet, knocking his toothbrush against the tin plate of the hand washstand, behind which on the little wall, I know, hung the secretive nail; all of Papochkas acts reminded me of the acts of a bishop, in a gleaming miter in the middle ground of the gleaming spaces behind the iconostasisover the altar, the cliff of Labrador; he enochs with the nose and he lifted up his sleeves over the porcelain cup: the washbasin; and from screwed-up eyes, wet, of the widenosed countenance,he voiced: Yes here, Kotenka: here My little brother! Here: the wanderers appeared to Abram, that is, once again, Papas They appeared, saying: Abram: you will be Abraham! Do you know And you will give birth, you know,to Isaac!me!.. And when it came to the sacrifice, then we came up naturally against the dense thicket of domestic cares, because my domestic care was exactly thata sacrifice: to lie up on an enormous stone dignifiedly, so as to be sacrificed dignifiedly: by Mama! . . . . . . I see in my dreams, its as if Papa crowns me as king with a lesson; he comes with gifts of knowledge, as with a cup, overfilled with precious stones, brocades and tasty fruits; he stands wordlessly like a brocaded alta-relief, stands with a pineapple, an Oporto apple, or goose apple, even with an antonovka, spirit apple; day begins; and a little star rolls downwith a luminescent little trail, toward morning they will lay out atlases, satins, Chinese satins; nature, like an ancient Chinaman, grows ancient with its overgrowths; and from the Heavenly Empire wafts into the little window an azure air.  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