Вітер у вербах
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
InsilenceMolerowedsteadily,andsoontheycametoapointwheretheriverdivided,alongbackwaterbranchingofftooneside.WithaslightmovementofhisheadRat,whohadlongdroppedtherudder-lines,directedtherowertotakethebackwater.Thecreepingtideoflightgainedandgained,andnowtheycouldseethecolouroftheflowersthatgemmedthewater’sedge.
"Clearerandnearerstill,"criedtheRatjoyously."Nowyoumustsurelyhearit!Ah—atlast—Iseeyoudo!"
Breathlessandtransfixed,theMolestoppedrowingastheliquidrunofthatgladpipingbrokeonhimlikeawave,caughthimup,andpossessedhimutterly.Hesawthetearsonhiscomrade’scheeks,andbowedhisheadandunderstood.Foraspacetheyhungthere,brushedbythepurpleloosestrifethatfringedthebank;thentheclearimperioussummonsthatmarchedhand-in-handwiththeintoxicatingmelodyimposeditswillonMole,andmechanicallyhebenttohisoarsagain.Andthelightgrewsteadilystronger,butnobirdssangastheywerewonttodoattheapproachofdawn;andbutfortheheavenlymusicallwasmarvellouslystill.
Oneithersideofthem,astheyglidedonwards,therichmeadow-grassseemedthatmorningofafreshnessandagreennessunsurpassable.Neverhadtheynoticedtherosessovivid,thewillow-herbsoriotous,themeadow-sweetsoodorousandpervading.
