Гроздья гнева

           Hewailedthesong,"I’mLeavingOldTexas,"thateeriesongthatwassungbeforetheSpaniardscame,onlythewordswereIndianthen.

           Andnowthegroupwasweldedtoonething,oneunit,sothatinthedarktheeyesofthepeoplewereinward,andtheirmindsplayedinothertimes,andtheirsadnesswaslikerest,likesleep.Hesangthe"McAlesterBlues"andthen,tomakeupforittotheolderpeople,hesang"JesusCallsMetoHisSide."Thechildrendrowsedwiththemusicandwentintothetentstosleep,andthesingingcameintotheirdreams.

           Andafterawhilethemanwiththeguitarstoodupandyawned.

           Goodnight,folks,hesaid.

           Andtheymurmured,Goodnighttoyou.

           Andeachwishedhecouldpickaguitar,becauseitisagraciousthing.Thenthepeoplewenttotheirbeds,andthecampwasquiet.Andtheowlscoastedoverhead,andthecoyotesgabbledinthedistance,andintothecampskunkswalked,lookingforbitsoffood—waddling,arrogantskunks,afraidofnothing.

           Thenightpassed,andwiththefirststreakofdawnthewomencameoutofthetents,builtupthefires,andputthecoffeetoboil.Andthemencameoutandtalkedsoftlyinthedawn.

           WhenyoucrosstheColoradoriver,there’sthedesert,theysay.Lookoutforthedesert.Seeyoudon’tgethungup.Takeplentywater,caseyougethungup.

           I’mgonnatakeheratnight.

           Metoo:She’llcutthelivingJesusoutayou.

           Thefamiliesatequickly,andthedishesweredippedandwiped.

           Thetentscamedown.Therewasarushtogo