Вітер у вербах
The Wild Wood
Therewasplentytotalkaboutonthoseshortwinterdayswhentheanimalsfoundthemselvesroundthefire;still,theMolehadagooddealofsparetimeonhishands,andsooneafternoon,whentheRatinhisarm-chairbeforetheblazewasalternatelydozingandtryingoverrhymesthatwouldn’tfit,heformedtheresolutiontogooutbyhimselfandexploretheWildWood,andperhapsstrikeupanacquaintancewithMr.Badger.
Itwasacold,stillafternoonwithahard,steelyskyoverhead,whenheslippedoutofthewarmparlourintotheopenair.Thecountrylaybareandentirelyleaflessaroundhim,andhethoughtthathehadneverseensofarandsointimatelyintotheinsidesofthingsasonthatwinterdaywhenNaturewasdeepinherannualslumberandseemedtohavekickedtheclothesoff.Copses,dells,quarries,andallhiddenplaces,whichhadbeenmysteriousminesforexplorationinleafysummer,nowexposedthemselvesandtheirsecretspathetically,andseemedtoaskhimtooverlooktheirshabbypovertyforawhile,tilltheycouldriotinrichmasqueradeasbefore,andtrickandenticehimwiththeolddeceptions.Itwaspitifulinaway,andyetcheering—evenexhilarating.Hewasgladthathelikedthecountryundecorated,hard,andstrippedofitsfinery.Hehadgotdowntothebarebonesofit,andtheywerefineandstrongandsimple.
