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المؤلف: Leo Tolstoy

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اضغط ابدأ واكتب السطور بدقة. · مفتاح الرجوع معطل — استمر حتى بعد الخطأ.

"Come, lads, keep it up!" said Tit, and ran on ahead almost at a
trot.
"Get along, get along!" said the old man, hurrying after him and
easily overtaking him, "I'll mow you down, look out!"
And young and old mowed away, as though they were racing with one
another. But however fast they worked, they did not spoil the
grass, and the rows were laid just as neatly and exactly. The
little piece left uncut in the corner was mown in five minutes.
The last of the mowers were just ending their rows while the
foremost snatched up their coats onto their shoulders, and
crossed the road towards Mashkin Upland.
The sun was already sinking into the trees when they went with
their jingling dippers into the wooded ravine of Mashkin Upland.
The grass was up to their waists in the middle of the hollow,
soft, tender, and feathery, spotted here and there among the
trees with wild heart's-ease.

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