"Michael Ende - Momo" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ende Michael)

Thousands of years have passed since then. The great cities of long ago lie in ruins, together with
their temples and palaces. Wind and rain, heat and cold have worn away and eaten into the stonework.
Ruins are all that remain of the amphitheatres, too. Crickets now inhabit their crumbling walls, singing a
monotonous song that sounds like the earth breathing in its sleep.
A few of these ancient cities have survived to the present day, however. Life there has changed,
of course. People ride around in cars and buses, have telephones and electric lights. But here and there
among the modern buildings one can still find a column or two, an archway, a stretch of wall, or even an
amphitheater dating from olden times.
It was in a city of this kind that the story of Momo took place.

On the southern outskirts of the city, where the fields began and the houses became shabbier and
more tumbledown, the ruins of a small amphitheater lay hidden in a clump of pine trees. It had never been
a grand place, even in the old days, just a place of entertainment for poor folk. When Momo arrived on
the scene, the ruined amphitheater had been almost forgotten. Its existence was known to a few
professors of archaeology, but they took no further interest in it because there was nothing more to be
unearthed there. It wasn't an attraction to be compared with others in the city, either, so the few stray
tourists or sightseers who visited it from time to time merely clambered around on the grass-grown tiers
of seats, made a lot of noise, took a couple of snapshots, and went away again. Then silence returned to
the stone arena and the crickets started on the next verse of their interminable, unchanging song.
The strange, round building was really known only to the folk who lived in the immediate
neighbourhood. They grazed their goats there, their children played ball on what had once been the
central stage, and sweethearts would sometimes meet there in the evenings.
One day however, word went around that someone had moved into the ruins. It was a child -- a
girl, most likely, though this was hard to say because she wore such funny clothes. The newcomer's name
was Momo.
Aside from being rather odd, Momo's personal appearance might well have shocked anyone
who set store by looking clean and tidy. She was so small and thin that, with the best will in the world, no
one could have told her age. Her unruly mop of jet-black hair looked as if it had never seen a comb or a
pair of scissors. She had very big, beautiful eyes as black as her hair, and feet of almost the same colour,
for she nearly always went around barefoot. Although she sometimes wore shoes in the wintertime, the
only shoes she had weren't a pair, and besides, they were far too big for her. This was because Momo
owned nothing apart from what she had found lying around or had been given. Her ankle-length dress
was a mass of patches of different colours, and over it she wore a man's jacket, also far too big for her,
with the sleeves turned up at the wrist. Momo had decided against cutting them off because she wisely
reflected that she was still growing, and goodness only knew if she would ever find another jacket as
useful as this one, with all its many pockets.
Beneath the grassy stage of the ruined amphitheater, half choked with rubble, were some
underground chambers which could be reached by way of a hole in the outer wall, and this was where
Momo had set up house. One afternoon, a group of men and women from the neighbourhood turned up
and tried to question her. Momo eyed them apprehensively, fearing that they had come to chase her
away, but she soon saw that they meant well. Being poor like herself, they knew how hard life could be.
"So," said one of the men, "you like it here, do you?"
Momo nodded.
"And you want to stay here?"
"Yes, very much."
"Won't you be missed, though?"
"No."
"I mean, shouldn't you go home?"
"This is my home," Momo said promptly.
"But where do you come from?"