Зарисовка ни о чем

[helenkis]

Как-то, много лет назад, помню, сидела я дома на кухне, еще в Москве, и смотрела на березу за окном. Делать было абсолютно нечего, на улице - жаркое лето. И вот захотелось мне что-то написать.
Нашелся с тех давних времен только перевод, который я зачем-то делала, а оригинал даже и не перепечатан
Хотите, могу перепечатать, если с англ не очень))))

Вот, в общем, маленькая зарисовка

Evening. The sun didn’t set yet, but the sky is already getting darker above the seventeen-storey. Boring. Quiet. Like snow, poplar down is flying, and white umbrellas of dandelions, like little ships, are floating in the ocean of sunset rays. Pink clouds hover motionless in the sky. Not a single breath of wind. Over the city, for the third day, there is heat, but today it is special.
Noiselessly, a cat came on her soft small paws, and jumped up on the window. Cats always walk quietly. The cat waged her tail, sat and, screwing up her eyes, started to look at the sky.
Hot. The old birch on the other side of the window stood still, spreading its branches. In the rays of the sun, its trunk wasn’t white, but somehow red, as if covered with paint. The sun flashed from behind the houses one last time and hid; only the top of seventeen-storey was still shining golden in the dying out sky. It blazed red for a while, but soon turned into purple and green.
Above, in the sky, the first star lit up, and the others followed it. The sky turned blue, and, suddenly, the wind blew. Cool and fresh, it was the salvation at this hot still night. The wind tousled dry grass, raised a cloud of dust from the road, and stirred the trees.
The birch rustled happily, welcoming it, but it didn’t want to stay. The wind wanted to be free and to go further. The cat opened one eye, followed it with her gaze, and purred as a farewell. She understood. Cats are all like this. They also want to be free and independent, and often they manage to fulfill that wish. The cat didn’t get upset that the wind left; she knew it would come back.
The birch fell silent, grieving. It became still again, but it was different silence. Watchful, attentive. Everything was waiting for something, and waited impatiently, as kids wait for a big holiday.
The wind returned, but returned changed. It wasn’t that light and carefree breeze as it was earlier. No, it changed dramatically. It harshly struck the birch, and swept through the city, but didn’t leave, turning back and hitting the city again.
The star above the horizon suddenly blinked blue and disappeared. Its neighbors soon vanished too.
In the distance, there was a sound of thunder, quite faint for the time being, but the cat opened her eyes and jumped down to the floor. She wasn’t afraid of the thunderstorm, but, like all cats, avoided getting her soft paws wet.
The thunder resounded stronger, the blinding lightning flashed, and the rain fell. The wind has gone crazy; it hurled large drops at the hot ground, tore the leaves off the trees. The rain became heavier, and soon no one could see anything behind its gray veil.