Вітер у вербах
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
"
"Letmetryandgiveyouthem,"saidtheRatsoftly,hiseyesstillclosed."Nowitisturningintowordsagain—faintbutclear—Lesttheaweshoulddwell—Andturnyourfrolictofret—Youshalllookonmypoweratthehelpinghour—Butthenyoushallforget!Nowthereedstakeitup—forget,forget,theysigh,anditdiesawayinarustleandawhisper.Thenthevoicereturns—
"Lestlimbsbereddenedandrent—Ispringthetrapthatisset—AsIloosethesnareyoumayglimpsemethere—Forsurelyyoushallforget!Rownearer,Mole,nearertothereeds!Itishardtocatch,andgrowseachminutefainter.
"Helperandhealer,Icheer—Smallwaifsinthewoodlandwet—StraysIfindinit,woundsIbindinit—Biddingthemallforget!Nearer,Mole,nearer!No,itisnogood;thesonghasdiedawayintoreed-talk."
"Butwhatdothewordsmean?"askedthewonderingMole.
"ThatIdonotknow,"saidtheRatsimply."Ipassedthemontoyouastheyreachedme.Ah!nowtheyreturnagain,andthistimefullandclear!Thistime,atlast,itisthereal,theunmistakablething,simple—passionate—perfect—"
"Well,let’shaveit,then,"saidtheMole,afterhehadwaitedpatientlyforafewminutes,half-dozinginthehotsun.
Butnoanswercame.Helooked,andunderstoodthesilence
