Мауглі
Toomai of the Elephants
Itisaverysoothinglullaby,andthefirstversesays:
Shiv,whopouredtheharvestandmadethewindstoblow,
Sittingatthedoorwaysofadayoflongago,
Gavetoeachhisportion,foodandtoilandfate,
FromtheKingupontheguddeetotheBeggaratthegate.
Allthingsmadehe—ShivathePreserver.
Mahadeo!Mahadeo!Hemadeall—
Thornforthecamel,fodderforthekine,
Andmother’sheartforsleepyhead,Olittlesonofmine!
LittleToomaicameinwithajoyoustunk-a-tunkattheendofeachverse,tillhefeltsleepyandstretchedhimselfonthefodderatKalaNag’sside.Atlasttheelephantsbegantoliedownoneafteranotherasistheircustom,tillonlyKalaNagattherightofthelinewasleftstandingup;andherockedslowlyfromsidetoside,hisearsputforwardtolistentothenightwindasitblewveryslowlyacrossthehills.Theairwasfullofallthenightnoisesthat,takentogether,makeonebigsilence—theclickofonebamboostemagainsttheother,therustleofsomethingaliveintheundergrowth,thescratchandsquawkofahalf-wakedbird(birdsareawakeinthenightmuchmoreoftenthanweimagine),andthefallofwatereversofaraway.LittleToomaisleptforsometime,andwhenhewakeditwasbrilliantmoonlight,andKalaNagwasstillstandingupwithhisearscocked.
