Вітер у вербах

           Bythistimetheirmealwasover,andtheSeafarer,refreshedandstrengthened,hisvoicemorevibrant,hiseyelitwithabrightnessthatseemedcaughtfromsomefar-awaysea-beacon,filledhisglasswiththeredandglowingvintageoftheSouth,and,leaningtowardstheWaterRat,compelledhisgazeandheldhim,bodyandsoul,whilehetalked.Thoseeyeswereofthechangingfoam-streakedgrey-greenofleapingNorthernseas;intheglassshoneahotrubythatseemedtheveryheartoftheSouth,beatingforhimwhohadcouragetorespondtoitspulsation.Thetwinlights,theshiftinggreyandthesteadfastred,masteredtheWaterRatandheldhimbound,fascinated,powerless.Thequietworldoutsidetheirraysrecededfarawayandceasedtobe.Andthetalk,thewonderfultalkflowedon—orwasitspeechentirely,ordiditpassattimesintosong—chantyofthesailorsweighingthedrippinganchor,sonoroushumoftheshroudsinatearingNorth-Easter,balladofthefishermanhaulinghisnetsatsundownagainstanapricotsky,chordsofguitarandmandolinefromgondolaorcaique?Diditchangeintothecryofthewind,plaintiveatfirst,angrilyshrillasitfreshened,risingtoatearingwhistle,sinkingtoamusicaltrickleofairfromtheleechofthebellyingsail?Allthesesoundsthespellboundlistenerseemedtohear,andwiththemthehungrycomplaintofthegullsandthesea-mews,thesoftthunderofthebreakingwave,thecryoftheprotestingshingle.