Читать книгу A Sea Nomad. Prose/проза - Фируз Мустафа - Страница 6

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The fish which was too thirsty, was floundering between the talon of the eagle. Even, at least it would slip, fall on the rocks and would be torn into pieces. For the eagle it was impossible to carry the fish to the far sea. Alongside with the far distance of the sea, Yaqut was out of breath. The eagle felt that its friend was sick of the thirst. During those moments water was life for Yaqut.

After some time hoarse murmuring was heard from below. At last, it was a river! River! It could easily feel the smell of pure water flowing downwards through a valley. See, the eagle began to fly down, above the river! The fish floundered and freed itself out of the talon of the eagle, it went round in the air and threw itself into the mountain river flowing so fast. For some time the eagle went round the head of its friend and then it screamed madly. The fish raised its head through the water and looked up; as if the fish wanted to say good-bye to its friend. Only the God knows, when they will meet again. Seeing the fish, the eagle spread its wings more widely. It meant that Ayqut wanted to fly to the expanse of the height, to the depth of the sky.

The stupefying smell of the water kind of made Yaqut faint. But its pleasure didn’t last much. The fish which had spent most of its life in the great waters, the fish which had firstly tasted the ocean, then the expanse of the sea couldn’t feel itself comfortable in a mountain river.

The fish once, had accidentally fallen into the net of a fisherman. When it was thrown into the pool in the yard of Tuqay, it had felt like this. Firstly, the warm, sweet water of the pool seemed to the fish a bit strange. Then little by little it was accustomed to the smell, taste of the strange water. Now Yaqut believed that it could be escaped. Because just inside of this mountain river it could smell the pleasant taste of the native water coming from far; it was gigantic water. It was salty sea water and Yaqut wanted to plunge into that gigantic, salty, familiar water. Without doubt, this mountain river inside of which the fish was swimming downwards, at last would join to that gigantic and salty sea. The fish was sure about it. That was why the fish was rushing forward passing near the small fishes, tadpoles and frogs. In this mountain river there wasn’t seen such kind of big, strong fish. Though the sharp, strong “wings” of Yaqut at times were caught by the submarine grasses and the roots of trees, it didn’t want to return. Spreading its wings it was beating off all that was in its way, and swimming confidently forward. From far it could feel the pleasant salty water of the native sea.