"Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman - The Cataclysm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weis Margaret)

ORESTES, MY SON, she repeats

in the fragmenting darkness,

the firelight fixed

on her hair, on the ivory

glove of her hand

and the tilted goblet.



And always Orestes listened

and practiced his harp

for the journey approaching,

and the world contracted,

fierce and impermeable,

caged in the wheeling words

of his mother, caged

in a custom of deaths.
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II



Three things are lost

in the long night of words:

history's edge

the heart's long appeasement

the eye of the prophet.

But the story born