The name of the great Irishman Samuel Beckett (1906–1989) is shrouded in legends and sealed with labels: “absurdist”, “friend of Joyce”, “Nobel laureate”... Everyone knows the play “Waiting for Godot”. Beckett's brilliant prose was known to us only indirectly: the proposed translation, which existed in samizdat for twenty years, educated a whole galaxy of now famous writers, while remaining unknown to the reader itself. Re-reading it now, you see with your own eyes how a genius pushes the boundaries of our consciousness and awareness of ourselves, the world, and God. We are doomed to receive everything in the world late; thank God, we still get it.