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The Music of Erich Zann - H. Lovecraft

The Music of Erich Zann

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В самом сердце университетской студент Петер был вынужден снять недорогую квартиру в странном районе города, который он никогда не видел раньше. Квартира находилась на улице под названием "Рю д'Озе", и его соседом в этом полузаброшенном доме был старый немец по имени Эрих Цанн. Тихий и замкнутый, этот старик был скрытным скрипачом в местном оркестре. Сам Цанн жил на последнем этаже, и когда приходила ночь и он оставался в одиночестве, он играл странные и невиданные мелодии на своем скрипичном инструменте.

В своем исследовательском порыве, Петер начал узнавать больше о своем загадочном соседе и его музыкальных творениях. Как выяснилось, Цанн был не только безмолвным гением скрипки, но и таинственным композитором. Его мелодии, исполненные энергично и с пылом, создавали особую атмосферу в здании.

Петер не мог устоять перед соблазном и пригласил Эриха Цанна на концерт в своем университете. К его удивлению, Цанн согласился. В течение недели они проводили много времени вместе, глубоко погружаясь в мир музыки и обменявшись своими собственными композициями.

Концерт состоялся, и гении Цанн и Петера стали объектом восхищения университетской аудитории. Однако, после этого знаменательного события, Цанн вдруг стал чрезвычайно нервным и отказался видеть Петера, пропадая без вести.

Петер был ошеломлен и пытался выяснить причину поведения Цанна. Он провел ночи, бродя по улочкам города, ища следы своего друга. Наконец, он обнаружил, что Rue d'Auseil является магическим перекрестком, между миром реальным и фантастическим.

С более глубоким пониманием и осознанием мира Эриха Цанна, Петер решил использовать свои таланты, чтобы спасти своего пропавшего друга и закончить таинственную мелодию, которую начал играть Цанн. И так, началась приключенческая особа двух музыкальных гений, борящихся с темными силами и ищущих просветление и источник своей вдохновения.

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The Music Of Erich Zann

I have examined maps of the city with the greatest care, yet have never again found the Rue d’Auseil. These maps have not been modern maps alone, for I know that names change. I have, on the contrary, delved deeply into all the antiquities of the place, and have personally explored every region, of whatever name, which could possibly answer to the street I knew as the Rue d’Auseil. But despite all I have done, it remains an humiliating fact that I cannot find the house, the street, or even the locality, where, during the last months of my impoverished life as a student of metaphysics at the university, I heard the music of Erich Zann.

That my memory is broken, I do not wonder; for my health, physical and mental, was gravely disturbed throughout the period of my residence in the Rue d’Auseil, and I recall that I took none of my few acquaintances there. But that I cannot find the place again is both singular and perplexing; for it was within a half-hour’s walk of the university and was distinguished by peculiarities which could hardly be forgotten by any one who had been there. I have never met a person who has seen the Rue d’Auseil.

The Rue d’Auseil lay across a dark river bordered by precipitous brick blear-windowed warehouses and spanned by a ponderous bridge of dark stone. It was always shadowy along that river, as if the smoke of neighboring factories shut out the sun perpetually. The river was also odorous with evil stenches which I have never smelled elsewhere, and which may some day help me to find it, since I should recognize them at once. Beyond the bridge were narrow cobbled streets with rails; and then came the ascent, at first gradual, but incredibly steep as the Rue d’Auseil was reached.

I have never seen another street as narrow and steep as the Rue d’Auseil. It was almost a cliff, closed to all vehicles, consisting in several places of flights of steps, and ending at the top in a lofty ivied wall. Its paving was irregular, sometimes stone slabs, sometimes cobblestones, and sometimes bare earth with struggling greenish-grey vegetation. The houses were tall, peaked-roofed, incredibly old, and crazily leaning backward, forward, and sidewise. Occasionally an opposite pair, both leaning forward, almost met across the street like an arch; and certainly they kept most of the light from the ground below. There were a few overhead bridges from house to house across the street.

The inhabitants of that street impressed me peculiarly; At first I thought it was because they were all silent and reticent; but later decided it was because they were all very old. I do not know how I came to live on such a street, but I was not myself when I moved there. I had been living in many poor places, always evicted for want of money; until at last I came upon that tottering house in the Rue d’Auseil kept by the paralytic Blandot. It was the third house from the top of the street, and by far the tallest of them all.

My room was on the fifth story; the only inhabited room there, since the house was almost empty. On the night I arrived I heard strange music from the peaked garret overhead, and the next day asked old Blandot about it. He told me it was an old German viol-player, a strange dumb man who signed his name as Erich Zann, and who played evenings in a cheap theater orchestra; adding that Zann’s desire to play in the night after his return from the theater was the reason he had chosen this lofty and isolated garret room, whose single gable window was the only point on the street from which one could look over the terminating wall at the declivity and panorama beyond.

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