Алиса в зазеркалье
It’s my own Invention
Yearsafterwardsshecouldbringthewholescenebackagain,asifithadbeenonlyyesterday—themildblueeyesandkindlysmileoftheKnight—thesettingsungleamingthroughhishair,andshiningonhisarmourinablazeoflightthatquitedazzledher—thehorsequietlymovingabout,withthereinshanginglooseonhisneck,croppingthegrassatherfeet—andtheblackshadowsoftheforestbehind—allthisshetookinlikeapicture,as,withonehandshadinghereyes,sheleantagainstatree,watchingthestrangepair,andlistening,inahalfdream,tothemelancholymusicofthesong.
‘Butthetuneisn’thisowninvention,’shesaidtoherself:‘it’s"IGiveTheeAll,ICanNoMore."’Shestoodandlistenedveryattentively,butnotearscameintohereyes.
‘I’lltelltheeeverythingIcan;
There’slittletorelate.
Isawanagedagedman,
A-sittingonagate.
"Whoareyou,agedman?"Isaid,
"andhowisityoulive?"
Andhisanswertrickledthroughmyhead
Likewaterthroughasieve.
Hesaid"Ilookforbutterflies
Thatsleepamongthewheat:
Imakethemintomutton-pies,
Andselltheminthestreet.
Isellthemuntomen,"hesaid,
"Whosailonstormyseas;
Andthat’sthewayIgetmybread—
Atrifle,ifyouplease."
ButIwasthinkingofaplan
Todyeone’swhiskersgreen,
Andalwaysusesolargeafan
Thattheycouldnotbeseen.
So,havingnoreplytogive
Towhattheoldmansaid,
Icried,"Come,tellmehowyoulive!"
Andthumpedhimonthehead.