Читать книгу Sacred Books of the East - Томас Карлейль - Страница 15

Now for the greatness of the chariot of Vâta. Its roar goes crashing and thundering. It moves touching the sky, and creating red sheens, or it goes scattering the dust of the earth. Afterwards there rise the gusts of Vâta, they go towards him, like women to a feast. The god goes with them on the same chariot, he, the king of the whole of this world. When he moves on his paths along the sky, he rests not even a single day; the friend of the waters, the first-born, the holy, where was he born, whence did he spring? The breath of the gods, the germ of the world, that god moves wherever he listeth; his roars indeed are heard, not his form—let us offer sacrifice to that Vâta!