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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 612/821
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VIRAG
:
(
His
mouth
projected
in
hard
wrinkles
,
eyes
stonily
forlornly
closed
,
psalms
in
outlandish
monotone
.
)
That
the
cows
with
their
those
distended
udders
that
they
have
been
the
the
known
.
.
.
BLOOM
:
I
am
going
to
scream
.
I
beg
your
pardon
.
Ah
?
So
.
(
He
repeats
.
)
Spontaneously
to
seek
out
the
saurian
’
s
lair
in
order
to
entrust
their
teats
to
his
avid
suction
.
Ant
milks
aphis
.
(
Profoundly
.
)
Instinct
rules
the
world
.
In
life
.
In
death
.
VIRAG
:
(
Head
askew
,
arches
his
back
and
hunched
wingshoulders
,
peers
at
the
moth
out
of
blear
bulged
eyes
,
points
a
horning
claw
and
cries
.
)
Who
’
s
moth
moth
?
Who
’
s
dear
Gerald
?
Dear
Ger
,
that
you
?
O
dear
,
he
is
Gerald
.
O
,
I
much
fear
he
shall
be
most
badly
burned
.
Will
some
pleashe
pershon
not
now
impediment
so
catastrophics
mit
agitation
of
firstclass
tablenumpkin
?
(
He
mews
.
)
Puss
puss
puss
puss
!
(
He
sighs
,
draws
back
and
stares
sideways
down
with
dropping
underjaw
.
)
Well
,
well
.
He
doth
rest
anon
.
(
He
snaps
his
jaws
suddenly
on
the
air
.
)
THE
MOTH
:
I
’
m
a
tiny
tiny
thing
Ever
flying
in
the
spring
Round
and
round
a
ringaring
.
Long
ago
I
was
a
king
Now
I
do
this
kind
of
thing
