Гроздья гнева

           Theyhesitatedontheedgeoftheshadeandthentheyplungedintotheyellowsunlightliketwoswimmershasteningtogettoshore.Afterafewfaststepstheyslowedtoagentle,thoughtfulpace.Thecornstalksthrewgrayshadowssidewaysnow,andtherawsmellofhotdustwasintheair.Thecornfieldendedanddarkgreencottontookitsplace,darkgreenleavesthroughafilmofdust,andthebollsforming.Itwasspottycotton,thickinthelowplaceswherewaterhadstood,andbareonthehighplaces.Theplantsstroveagainstthesun.Anddistance,towardthehorizon,wastantoinvisibility.Thedustroadstretchedoutaheadofthem,wavingupanddown.Thewillowsofastreamlinedacrossthewest,andtothenorthwestafallowsectionwasgoingbacktosparsebrush.Butthesmellofburneddustwasintheair,andtheairwasdry,sothatmucusinthenosedriedtoacrust,andtheeyeswateredtokeeptheeyeballsfromdryingout.

           Casysaid,"Seehowgoodthecorncomealonguntilthedustgotup.Beenadingerofacrop."

           "Ever’year,"saidJoad."Ever’yearIcanremember,wehadagoodcropcomin’an’itnevercome.Grampasaysshewasgoodthefirstfiveplowin’s,whilethewildgrasswasstillinher."Theroaddroppeddownalittlehillandclimbedupanotherrollinghill.

           Casysaid,"Ol’Tom’shousecan’tbemore’namilefromhere.

           Ain’tsheoverthatthirdrise?"

           "Sure,"saidJoad."’Lesssomebodystoleit,likePastoleit.