Книга только для ознакомления
. This,
however, is the only known manuscript version.
Quivalen Sath
Archivist of The Qualinesti
Poetic Records
I
Astralas, called into song
by the fluted god
Branchala of the leaves,
called when I haunted
the woods of Silvanost,
two thousand and sixty years
since the signing of scrolls,
since the sheathing of armies.
O when the god called me,
the twin moons crossed
on the prow of my ship,
and the ocean was red on silver,
encircling light
upon inarticulate light
from the settled darkness
rushing, awaiting my song.
And O when the god called me,
this was my singing,
my prophecy compelled
in a visitation of wind.
II
The language of wind
is one tongue only,
pronounced in the movement
of cloud and water,
voiced in the rattle of leaves
in the breath between waiting
and memory, it stalks
elusive as light and promise.
The language of wind
is the vanishing year
preserved in recollection,
and always it yearns
for a season the heart
might have been in its wild anointing
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