Vladimir Nabokov. Un hombre ocupado : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Un hombre ocupado
Vladimir Nabokov. A BUSY MAN
blished in the Far East: "How's your son, the poet?" —"He's a sadist now." —"Meaning?" —"He writes only sad distichs." Gradu-ally Graf dozed off in his chair and in his dream he saw Ivan Ivanovich Engel singing couplets in a garden of sorts and fanning his bright-yellow, curly-feathered wings, and when Graf woke up the lovely June sun was lighting little rainbows in the landlady's liqueur glasses, and everything was somehow soft and luminous and enigmatic—as if there was something he had not understood, not thought through to the end, and now it was already too late, another life had begun, the past had withered away, and death had quite, quite rem