-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Улисс
-
- Стр. 414/821
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
—
Sorrow
from
me
seemed
to
depart
.
Through
the
hush
of
air
a
voice
sang
to
them
,
low
,
not
rain
,
not
leaves
in
murmur
,
like
no
voice
of
strings
or
reeds
or
whatdoyoucallthem
dulcimers
touching
their
still
ears
with
words
,
still
hearts
of
their
each
his
remembered
lives
.
Good
,
good
to
hear
:
sorrow
from
them
each
seemed
to
from
both
depart
when
first
they
heard
.
When
first
they
saw
,
lost
Richie
Poldy
,
mercy
of
beauty
,
heard
from
a
person
wouldn
’
t
expect
it
in
the
least
,
her
first
merciful
lovesoft
oftloved
word
.
Love
that
is
singing
:
love
’
s
old
sweet
song
.
Bloom
unwound
slowly
the
elastic
band
of
his
packet
.
Love
’
s
old
sweet
sonnez
la
gold
.
Bloom
wound
a
skein
round
four
forkfingers
,
stretched
it
,
relaxed
,
and
wound
it
round
his
troubled
double
,
fourfold
,
in
octave
,
gyved
them
fast
.
—
Full
of
hope
and
all
delighted
.
.
.
Tenors
get
women
by
the
score
.
Increase
their
flow
.
Throw
flower
at
his
feet
.
When
will
we
meet
?
My
head
it
simply
.
Jingle
all
delighted
.
He
can
’
t
sing
for
tall
hats
.
Your
head
it
simply
swurls
.
Perfumed
for
him
.
What
perfume
does
your
wife
?
I
want
to
know
.
Jing
.
Stop
.
Knock
.
Last
look
at
mirror
always
before
she
answers
the
door
.
The
hall
.
There
?
How
do
you
?
I
do
well
.
There
?
What
?
Or
?
Phial
of
cachous
,
kissing
comfits
,
in
her
satchel
.
Yes
?
Hands
felt
for
the
opulent
.
Alas
the
voice
rose
,
sighing
,
changed
:
loud
,
full
,
shining
,
proud
.
—
But
alas
,
’
twas
idle
dreaming
.
.
.
Glorious
tone
he
has
still
.
Cork
air
softer
also
their
brogue
.
Silly
man
!
Could
have
made
oceans
of
money
.
Singing
wrong
words
.
Wore
out
his
wife
:
now
sings
.
But
hard
to
tell
.
Only
the
two
themselves
.
If
he
doesn
’
t
break
down
.
Keep
a
trot
for
the
avenue
.
His
hands
and
feet
sing
too
.
Drink
.
Nerves
overstrung
.
Must
be
abstemious
to
sing
.
Jenny
Lind
soup
:
stock
,
sage
,
raw
eggs
,
half
pint
of
cream
.
For
creamy
dreamy
.
Tenderness
it
welled
:
slow
,
swelling
,
full
it
throbbed
.
That
’
s
the
chat
.
Ha
,
give
!
Take
!
Throb
,
a
throb
,
a
pulsing
proud
erect
.