In the underground crossing two young people, husband and wife, sung and played guitar and something like tambourine. They sung about the difficult Russian life, about ice bark of oblivion that welds our hearts and souls, about the remem-brance of glorious centuries that as a warm spring fight through the ice. At their feet, as usual, lies the pay hat for voluntary donations. However, the most part of people prefer to listen for free. Incidentally, tenderhearted foreigner put something different, as our abused rubl. Without fail he didn't understand anything from the song. And if he did, he would not open his big wallet, because there were a lot of not nice words in the song, about to much foreign bad things and abuse of all Russian things in Russia. But style country con-fused an American, he remembered about dear to his heart wild west. Two years old son of the musicians, who was here between long legs of his parents, noticed unusual paper. He grabs it very quickly. Baby, don't get used to bend for mister dollar. Not far from it settled the company of teenagers. They lis-tened not attentive. Somebody smoke a cigarette and knock the rhythm with the palm on the having a hole knee. Musical guys. . .
And if you don't have any coins in the pocket and you can't buy a ticket to the concert, you can go through the crossings of Saint-Petersburg metro, this universal gathering of talented people. Certainly, there are no brass bands here, but accordionists, flutists and even violinists come across very often. And it's even possible to order the song you want, as in restaurant. "Hi, guy, if you will play former hymn of former Soviet Union I will give you fifty rubl," - grinned swarthy mandarins salesman. Accordionist played, salesman gave. As he promised. "And now about the iron from the city Chuguev," - the music fan couldn't stop. And the musician be-gan to play something very smutty, without mercy to women and children ears. Certainly it's possible to go quickly by and don't listen it. But why you, Russian guy so humiliate your-self for fifty "mandarin" rubl. . . And suddenly, after the next stone turn, tired angry people were caught by the waves of tender, magic music. Twelve years old girl pressed the thin cheek to the violin and played something very dear and almost forgotten. Her eyes are half closed, because she don't want to see a lot of faces around her and hands that put money in the violin case.
Lena can't overcome her shyness. She began to play in metro still in summer every day for about two hours. But now she plays just on Sunday. She doesn't have time. She has to go to school and to music school, to do her homework, and to help her mom at home.
- Lenochka, you are so shy, that you turn pale. Why you torment yourself? Do you try to get used to public?
- It's not about public! I just make money to pay for my music lessons. Because now you have to pay for all and not a little. My mother told me, that before it was possible to learn many things for free. I think, it was great.
Lena lives with her mom and young sister Tania. Tania has music lessons either, she plays piano.
- Is it possible for you to get money to pay for music lessons this way?
- It depends. Sometimes I have to spend all money for food or to pay for the apartment. It's difficult for my mom to make both ends meet alone. . . I am just afraid about one thing: that my music teacher will see me and find out all this things. I am not a beggar. I am a musi-cian.
Lena plays in metro, because here it is not so shamed. Two uninterrupted streams of people go by, they are in a hurry, they don't gather in circle, don't stare importu-nate. But the earnings is smaller. Somebody put his hand in a pocket or in a bag, but the stream of people carry him away, and he didn't come back!
The stream of people goes by. By the bagger and crip-ples, by the hungry children eyes, by the sorrowful pressed old women's lips, by the tender melody of weeping violin. Please, come back and give some money young under-ground musician. You pay for the work. You don't give money for snickers or chew gum. You pay children in order they can continue to have lessons in music classes. In or-der that the music will stay alive. And not just in stone jungle deep under the ground.
Irina RUBZOVA