Вітер у вербах
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
Tremblingheobeyed,andraisedhishumblehead;andthen,inthatutterclearnessoftheimminentdawn,whileNature,flushedwithfulnessofincrediblecolour,seemedtoholdherbreathfortheevent,helookedintheveryeyesoftheFriendandHelper;sawthebackwardsweepofthecurvedhorns,gleaminginthegrowingdaylight;sawthestern,hookednosebetweenthekindlyeyesthatwerelookingdownonthemhumorously,whilethebeardedmouthbrokeintoahalf-smileatthecorners;sawtheripplingmusclesonthearmthatlayacrossthebroadchest,thelongsupplehandstillholdingthepan-pipesonlyjustfallenawayfromthepartedlips;sawthesplendidcurvesoftheshaggylimbsdisposedinmajesticeaseonthesward;saw,lastofall,nestlingbetweenhisveryhooves,sleepingsoundlyinentirepeaceandcontentment,thelittle,round,podgy,childishformofthebabyotter.Allthishesaw,foronemomentbreathlessandintense,vividonthemorningsky;andstill,ashelooked,helived;andstill,ashelived,hewondered.
"Rat!"hefoundbreathtowhisper,shaking."Areyouafraid?"
"Afraid?"murmuredtheRat,hiseyesshiningwithunutterablelove."Afraid!OfHim?O,never,never!Andyet—andyet—O,Mole,Iamafraid!"
Thenthetwoanimals,crouchingtotheearth,bowedtheirheadsanddidworship.
