"Dunsany, Lord - Five Plays" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dunsany Lord)

Agmar:
My sister.

Illanaun:
What?

Agmar:
My little sister.

Slag:
Our little sister the moon. She comes to us at
evenings away in the mountains of Marma. She trips
over the mountains when she is young. When she is
young and slender she comes and dances before us, and
when she is old and unshapely she hobbles away from the
hills.

Agmar:
Yet is she young again and forever nimble with youth;
yet she comes dancing back. The years are not able to
curb her nor to bring gray hairs to her brethren.

Oorander:
This is not wonted.

Illanaun:
It is not in accordance with custom.

Akmos:
Prophecy hath not thought it.

Slag:
She comes to us new and nimble, remembering olden
loves.

Oorander:
It were well that prophets should come and speak to us.

Illanaun:
This hath not been in the past. Let prophets come.
Let prophets speak to us of future things.

{The beggars seat themselves upon the floor in the
attitude of the seven gods of Marma.}

Citizen:
I heard men speak today in the market place. They
speak of a prophecy read somewhere of old. It says the
seven gods shall come from Marma in the guise of men.