Читать книгу The Seven Seas - Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг - Страница 6

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Hear now the Song of the Dead—in the North by the torn berg-edges— They that look still to the Pole, asleep by their hide-stripped sledges. Song of the Dead in the South—in the sun by their skeleton horses, Where the warrigal whimpers and bays through the dust of the sere river-courses.

Song of the Dead in the East—in the heat-rotted jungle hollows, Where the dog-ape barks in the kloof—in the brake of the buffalo-wallows. Song of the Dead in the West—in the Barrens, the snow that betrayed them, Where the wolverine tumbles their packs from the camp and the grave-mound they made them; Hear now the Song of the Dead!