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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 9/287
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The
flame
birds
waited
,
like
a
bed
of
coals
,
glowing
on
the
cool
smooth
sands
.
The
white
canopy
ballooned
on
the
night
wind
,
flapping
softly
,
tied
by
a
thousand
green
ribbons
to
the
birds
.
Ylla
laid
herself
back
in
the
canopy
and
,
at
a
word
from
her
husband
,
the
birds
leaped
,
burning
,
toward
the
dark
sky
,
The
ribbons
tautened
,
the
canopy
lifted
.
The
sand
slid
whining
under
;
the
blue
hills
drifted
by
,
drifted
by
,
leaving
their
home
behind
,
the
raining
pillars
,
the
caged
flowers
,
the
singing
books
,
the
whispering
floor
creeks
.
She
did
not
look
at
her
husband
.
She
heard
him
crying
out
to
the
birds
as
they
rose
higher
,
like
ten
thousand
hot
sparkles
,
so
many
red
-
yellow
fireworks
in
the
heavens
,
tugging
the
canopy
like
a
flower
petal
,
burning
through
the
wind
.
She
didn
’
t
watch
the
dead
,
ancient
bone
-
chess
cities
slide
under
,
or
the
old
canals
filled
with
emptiness
and
dreams
.
Past
dry
rivers
and
dry
lakes
they
flew
,
like
a
shadow
of
the
moon
,
like
a
torch
burning
.
She
watched
only
the
sky
.
The
husband
spoke
.
She
watched
the
sky
.
"
Did
you
hear
what
I
said
?
"
"
What
?
"
He
exhaled
.
"
You
might
pay
attention
.
"
"
I
was
thinking
.
"
