Читати книгу - "Навіщо. What For"

— My favorite flowers. As a child I gathered them in colza.

Poet

— I do not know what you are talking about, but they shoot us from “Hyacinth”.

Laurel

— Also beautiful. As a child I smoked sunflowers.

Slon

— Oh, what about the details?

Laurel

— Poet, give me one piece of paper from your pocket notebook.

Poet

— Wait, I’ve got inspiration and the poem appeared.

Laurel

— Then give me a piece of paper and read.

Laurel finds dry leaves of sunflowers, grinds, Slon monitors this celebration, then, after rolling cigarettes, both smoke with great pleasure.

Slon

— So that’s what happiness is!

Laurel

— Yes, well, I imagined it in different way ...

Poet

— Well, listen then ...

He who came out of hell, holding gun in his hands.

Goes through sunflowers, millions of them around,

And between them calmly, and then where — no one knows,

For the lakes are red and the sun is black near Krasnosel'ske.

Heads of sunflowers bowed to fate now

Under the weight of thoughts in solid black shell.

Too long, fatally long they’ve been obedient to the sun,

Turned only to him, obeyed destiny.

You're right, enemies turned out to be everywhere,

Those that’re just inside, break into pieces your chest,

Those who hear whether one will complain,

Hold radars on the horizon.

Strilka

— Great… Scary … And what’s then?

Poet

— And nothing more .

Strilka

— Will there be anything else?

Poet

— There won’t be

Scene 7

Chervonets and Martynov before the sunflower field with binoculars, fully armed — machineguns, grenade launchers.

Martynov

— Two have touched off the stretch — managed to go 30 kilometres. Another one stole a motorcycle from a local, but was shot at the checkpoint, hasn’t got anywhere. But they escape, they escape...

Chervonets

— Maybe to hell with them? After this, they will not fight any more.

Martynov

— The ones who have been mobilized, will not go. But volunteers are reckless, those Right Sector fighters will climb without arms and legs, they must be burned. Oh, and isn’t there a smoke in the field?..

Chervonets

— I don’t see.

Martynov

— But I see. Look, there. Shoots. Shoots again. Lets burst of machinegun fire.

Chervonets

— No, there is nothing.

Martynov (looks attentively)

— Maybe not. Not anymore. Come on, let's see.

Chervonets (looking at the opposite side of the field)

— And there, can you see there, the stems move? Maybe, a dog?

Martynov (begins to shoot the direction shown by Chervonets)

— Fascist dog, do not take it alive.

Chervonets

— Yes, where are the fascist dogs? Every dog is local. My Akbar fled when Grad shells hit the neighbour’s house, and is still missing.

Martynov

— What breed?

Chervonets

— German Shepherd.

Martynov

— Well, fascist. I do not like dogs. Come check there, where the smoke fled.

Chervonets

— Would you like some hooch?

Martynov

— Pour, brake. He asks. Bloody interviewer!

Chervonets pulls out a jar, turns off the lid, pours.

Martynov

— For Mother Russia! For its prodigal sons!

Scene 8

In the field of sunflowers Slon, Laurel and Strilka are lying, not moving. Next to them is Poet, he has been killed. Strilka is seeking his pulse on his neck, shows with gestures that there is no pulse.

Slon with gestures also says that by his command everyone should crawl to the edge of the field as soon as possible and hide in the bushes, he would go last, covering.

Laurel gets a notebook with poems from Poet’s ankle boot, hiding it in his breast pocket, showing others that he has done it, they nod. Laurel and Strilka are crawling on their stomachs, Slon behind them.

Scene 9

Martynov and Chervonets are going across the field, pushing aside the