озьми, всякая называется "То да се -- 2000", норовя внушить мысль, что она де посвящена наиважнейшим вопросам, рассмотрение которых невесть почему было отложено на целую тысячу лет..
. Фернандо входит. Донна Мария не видит его, выходит в дверь. Эмилия из-под мантельи, следуя за мачехой, роняет записку. Фернандо, глядевший вслед за нею, подымает...
Так признай меня ты сыном,Чтоб не слышать этих жалоб;Или чудо покажи нам,Что с тобой меня связало б!Из блудницы ты восставилНад блудницами богиню:Сотвори ж и нам святыню,Чтоб и я тебя прославил...
Out of one glazz I could read like headlines which were sort of trembling in the rooker of the chelloveck that held them, like BOY VICTIM OF CRIMINAL REFORM SCHEME and GOVERNMENT AS MURDERER and there was like a picture of a veck that looked familiar to me and it said OUT OUT OUT, and that would be the Minister of the Inferior or Interior. Then the nurse ptitsa said: "You shouldn't be exciting him like that. You shouldn't be doing anything that will make him upset. Now come on, let's have you out." I tried to say: "Out out out," but it was er er er again. Anyway, these three political vecks went. And I went, too, only back to the land, back to all blackness lit up by like odd dreams which I didn't know whether they were dreams or not, O my brothers. Like for instance I had this idea of my whole plott or body being like emptied of as it might be dirty water and then filled up again with clean. And then there were really lovely and horrorshow dreams of being in some veck's auto that had been crasted by me and driving up and down the world all on my oddy knocky running lewdies down and hearing them creech they were dying, and in me no pain and no sickness. And also there were dreams of doing the old in-out in-out with devotchkas, forcing like them down on the ground and making them have it and everybody standing around claping their rookers and cheering like bezoomny. And then I woke up again and it was my pee and em come to viddy their ill son, my em boohooing real horrorshow. I could govoreet a lot better now and could say: "Well well well well well, what gives? What makes you think you are like welcome?" My papapa said, in a like ashamed way: "You were in the papers, son. It said they had done great wrong to you. It said how the Government drove you to try and do yourself in. And it was our fault too, in a way, son. Your home's your home, when all's said and done, son." And my mum kept on going boohoohoo and looking ugly as kiss-my-sharries. So I said: "And how beeth the new son Joe? Well and healthy and prosperous, I trust and pray?" My mum said: "Oh, Alex Alex. Owwwwwwww." My papapa said: "A very awkward thing, son. He got into a bit of trouble with the police and was done by the police." "Really?" I said. "Really? Such a good sort of chelloveck and all. Amazed proper I am, honest." "Minding his own business he was," said my pee. "And the police told him to move on. Waiting at a corner he was, son, to see a girl he was going to meet. And they told him to move on and he said he had rights like everybody else, and then they sort of fell on top of him and hit him about cruel." "Terrible," I said. "Really terrible. And where is the poor boy now?" "Owwwww," boohooed my mum.
... Then they started questioning- Had he noticed anything? First, in prayer he bent his head, Through his teeth, he slowly said (After bowing left and right): "Why, I never slept all night! And I really wonder whether There was ever colder weather! It was cold, I'd have you know- I kept running to and fro- Wasn't it a chilly night! But, then, everything's all right. " And his father said with pleasure: "You, Gavrilo, are a treasure."
Evening once again drew near, Now the third should don his gear, But he never turned a hair, Sitting on the oven there, Singing with his foolish might: "0, you eyes, as black as night!" Then to coax and beg Ivan Both the elder sons began; Bade him go and guard the grain; They grew hoarse-but all in vain. Father finally said: "Here, You just listen, Vanya dear, Go on watch, and if you do, This is what I'll do for you: I shall give you beans and peas, And some pictures, if you please."
At these words, Ivan climbed down, Donned his coat of russet brown, Pocketed a lump of bread And on sentry-go he sped.
Night fell and the white moon rose. On his beat Ivan now goes, Looking sharply all around; Then he sits upon the ground, Munching slowly at his bread, Counts the bright stars overhead. Suddenly, a neigh resounded- To his feet our sentry bounded; Peering round with shaded eyes, In the field a mare he spies. Now, this mare, I'd have you know, Whiter was than whitest snow, Silken mane in ringlets streaming To the ground, all golden gleaming...