Charlie Chaplin letter to his daughter Geraldine

My girl
Now it is night. One Christmas night. All unarmed wars in my little castle slept. Not awake or your brother or your sister. Even your mother now sleeps. Not only woke up zaspalite birds until he came to this polusvetla room.
I am far from you! But let oslepeya if even for a moment your portrait has disappeared from my eyes. It was here – on the table here – to my heart. But where are you? There – prikazniya in Paris, of the magnificent dance theater scene Shan h `Elize. I know that, like in a quiet night you hear footsteps, to see your eyes shining like stars in the winter darkness. I heard that your role in this party and light show is the role of Persian Beauty, captive from Tatar Khan. Be fair and dance. Be a star and siyay. But if vaztorzite and they thanked the audience intoxicated, if the flavor of flowers sent to you, they zamae, you sit in a corner, read my letter and listen to the voice of his father.
I am your father, Zheraldin!
I’m Charlie, Charlie Chaplin!
You know how many nights I sat by your bed for you to tell stories when I was small – the Sleeping Beauty for budniya dragon in the field … And when the dream comes to rest my eyes, I get him and says: “Go! I sleep with dreams of his daughter! “I see these dreams, Zheraldin see your future, today’s your day! I see a girl playing on the stage, a fairy dancing in the sky. I heard the crowd say: “See that girl? It is the daughter of the old fool. Remember how I said – Charlie? ”
Yes! I’m Charlie! I am old fool!
Today is your day. Dance! I dancing in a wide okasan and trousers, and you in silk dress of a princess. These dances and the sound of applause will sometimes rise in the heavens.
Go! Go there! But back on earth! And look at people’s lives, the lives of those street dancers in the final quarters to play hungry and shiver and beggary. I was like them, Zheraldin! In those nights, those Charming nights sleep in my talk, I stay awake. I saw your face, hit felt your heart and ask: “Charlie! Really this kitten will ever know? “You do not know me, Zheraldin … As I talk to razkazval those long nights, its story I never razkazval you … And it is also interesting … Story about a hungry fool who peeshe and dancing in the poor neighborhoods of London, and then … gathering alms … This is my story!

I vkusil hunger, I know what it means to be without a roof! Moreover, I felt pain of the humiliating skitnika poll in whose breasts Ocean raged all of pride, had a coin toss to drain. But nevertheless I am alive and live normally for a little talk.
Better to talk to you!
After your name, Zheraldin is my – Chaplin. It more than forty years I laugh people on earth. But I cried more than they are brave, Zheraldin! In the world in which you live, there is only dance and music!
At midnight, when leaving the great hall you forget richest fans, but do not forget to ask a taxi driver who takes home to his wife … And if brememnna if no money to buy a coat child, you put money in his hand. I told the bank to pay your these costs. But for others – you have to send the correct account! From time to time by subway or bus examine city walk se.Gleday people! And at least once a day said: “I am one of them!” Yes! You are one, my girl. More! Art before a human wings for excursions in visinite usually schupva his legs. And when the moment in which you feel yourself more than the audience, immediately leave the scene! Go with the first charges in the vicinity of Paris. I know them very well! … There you will see many dancers like you – even more beautiful than you, and more proud of you. Glare from the spotlight of your theater no clue! Projector is for them the moon. Look, look good! Do not dance better than you? Admit it, my girl! Always someone who dance better! And know – the family of Charlie no one was so rude to make a hack rugae or podigrae beggar, sitting near the Seine …
I will die, but you will live … I want you never to live in poverty! Along with this letter you send a white check. As you write to it. But when spending two francs, do not forget to say that the third coin is not yours. It must belong to nepoznatiya man who needs one franc. And it you can easily find. I want to see these strangers pauperism, you can find them everywhere. If you talk about money, do this because I know izmamnata force these devils … You know, I spent a long time in the circus. And I always bezpokoyal of twister. But I gotta tell you a true, my girl – making people more easily than solid ground than players of precarious rope. Maybe one night glory of the most expensive diamond will fraud. In the same night that your diamond will be unstable and fall rope you safe. Perhaps one day the beautiful face of a prince will fraud. On the same day you will be unversed twister, a twister neopitnite always fall … Not to sell my heart for gold and jewelry. For the largest diamond is the Sun. Fortunately he shine in the face of every man!
And when one day falling in love with a man, you all be with him. Your mom told you I write about it. She knows better love me, it applicable to her as you talk about it …
Your job is very difficult. I know that. Your body is covered only with a piece of silk. Because art can and will appear naked on stage, but to come back from there in wearing and cleaner …
But nothing and no one else in this world deserves to see even the nails of the feet of a girl. Nakedness is a disease of our time.
I am old and my words might sound funny. But me, your naked body must belong to one who loves Face your soul. It is not scary if your belief that is ten years from the time you go. Fear not – those ten years they will not sastaryat. But as it is, I want you to be the last person who is subject of the island of bare! …
I know that sons and fathers are always bivali in a duel. With me, fight with my thoughts, my girl. I love children subject. And before kapnat tears from my eyes on this letter, I believe – this is Christmas night, night of miracles. I want to become a miracle – you really know you all I want to tell you.
Charlie is already outdated, Zheraldin! Sooner or later, instead of white silk to the scene, you will have to wear black to go to my grave. Now I do not want to bother. Only from time to time look in the mirror, there will see me. My blood runs in your veins. I even when in my veins the blood dried up, not to forget his father – Charlie. I was not an angel, but as far as could be stremyah to be a man. Try it and you.