-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Рэй Брэдбери
-
- Марсианские хроники
-
- Стр. 225/287
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Just
think
,
that
Martian
said
a
surprise
.
That
can
only
mean
one
thing
,
Elma
.
Those
hundred
thousand
people
coming
in
ahead
of
schedule
,
tonight
,
of
all
nights
!
We
’
ll
be
flooded
!
We
’
ll
work
long
hours
for
days
,
what
with
tourists
riding
around
seeing
things
,
Elma
.
Think
of
the
money
!
"
He
went
out
and
looked
at
the
sky
.
He
didn
’
t
see
anything
.
"
In
a
minute
,
maybe
,
"
he
said
,
snuffing
the
cool
air
gratefully
,
arms
up
,
beating
his
chest
.
"
Ah
!
"
Elma
said
nothing
.
She
peeled
potatoes
for
French
fries
quietly
,
her
eyes
always
on
the
sky
.
"
Sam
,
"
she
said
half
an
hour
later
.
"
There
it
is
.
Look
.
"
He
looked
and
saw
it
.
Earth
.
It
rose
full
and
green
,
like
a
fine
-
cut
stone
,
above
the
hills
.
"
Good
old
Earth
,
"
he
whispered
lovingly
.
"
Good
old
wonderful
Earth
.
Send
me
your
hungry
and
your
starved
.
Something
something
—
how
does
that
poem
go
?
Send
me
your
hungry
,
old
Earth
.
Here
’
s
Sam
Parkhill
,
his
hot
dogs
all
boiled
,
his
chili
cooking
,
everything
neat
as
a
pin
.
Come
on
,
you
Earth
,
send
me
your
rocket
!
"
He
went
out
to
look
at
his
place
.
There
it
sat
,
perfect
as
a
fresh
-
laid
egg
on
the
dead
sea
bottom
,
the
only
nucleus
of
light
and
warmth
in
hundreds
of
miles
of
lonely
wasteland
.
It
was
like
a
heart
beating
alone
in
a
great
dark
body
.
He
felt
almost
sorrowful
with
pride
,
gazing
at
it
with
wet
eyes
.
