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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 216/821
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They
wheeled
lower
.
Looking
for
grub
.
Wait
.
He
threw
down
among
them
a
crumpled
paper
ball
.
Elijah
thirtytwo
feet
per
sec
is
com
.
Not
a
bit
.
The
ball
bobbed
unheeded
on
the
wake
of
swells
,
floated
under
by
the
bridgepiers
.
Not
such
damn
fools
.
Also
the
day
I
threw
that
stale
cake
out
of
the
Erin
’
s
King
picked
it
up
in
the
wake
fifty
yards
astern
.
Live
by
their
wits
.
They
wheeled
,
flapping
.
The
hungry
famished
gull
Flaps
o
’
er
the
waters
dull
.
That
is
how
poets
write
,
the
similar
sounds
.
But
then
Shakespeare
has
no
rhymes
:
blank
verse
.
The
flow
of
the
language
it
is
.
The
thoughts
.
Solemn
.
Hamlet
,
I
am
thy
father
’
s
spirit
Doomed
for
a
certain
time
to
walk
the
earth
.
—
Two
apples
a
penny
!
Two
for
a
penny
!
His
gaze
passed
over
the
glazed
apples
serried
on
her
stand
.
Australians
they
must
be
this
time
of
year
.
Shiny
peels
:
polishes
them
up
with
a
rag
or
a
handkerchief
.
Wait
.
Those
poor
birds
.
