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- Рэй Брэдбери
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"
Really
,
Ylla
,
you
know
how
I
hate
this
emotional
wailing
.
Let
’
s
get
on
with
our
work
.
"
It
was
late
in
the
day
when
she
began
singing
the
song
as
she
moved
among
the
whispering
pillars
of
rain
.
She
sang
it
over
and
over
again
.
"
What
’
s
that
song
?
"
snapped
her
husband
at
last
,
walking
in
to
sit
at
the
fire
table
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
She
looked
up
,
surprised
at
herself
.
She
put
her
hand
to
her
mouth
,
unbelieving
.
The
sun
was
setting
.
The
house
was
closing
itself
in
,
like
a
giant
flower
,
with
the
passing
of
light
.
A
wind
blew
among
the
pillars
;
the
fire
table
bubbled
its
fierce
pool
of
silver
lava
.
The
wind
stirred
her
russet
hair
,
crooning
softly
in
her
ears
.
She
stood
silently
looking
out
into
the
great
sallow
distances
of
sea
bottom
,
as
if
recalling
something
,
her
yellow
eyes
soft
and
moist
,
"
Drink
to
me
only
with
thine
eyes
,
and
I
will
pledge
with
mine
,
"
she
sang
,
softly
,
quietly
,
slowly
.
"
Or
leave
a
kiss
within
the
cup
,
and
I
’
ll
not
ask
for
wine
.
"
She
hummed
now
,
moving
her
hands
in
the
wind
ever
so
lightly
,
her
eyes
shut
.
She
finished
the
song
.
It
was
very
beautiful
.
"
Never
heard
that
song
before
.
Did
you
compose
it
?
"
he
inquired
,
his
eyes
sharp
.
"
No
,
Yes
.
No
,
I
don
’
t
know
,
really
!
"
She
hesitated
wildly
.
"
I
don
’
t
even
know
what
the
words
are
;
they
’
re
another
language
!
"
"
What
language
?
"
She
dropped
portions
of
meat
numbly
into
the
simmering
lava
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
She
drew
the
meat
forth
a
moment
later
,
cooked
,
served
on
a
plate
for
him
.
"
It
’
s
just
a
crazy
thing
I
made
up
,
I
guess
.
I
don
’
t
know
why
.
"
