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صفحة 389 من 788

المؤلف: Adam Mickiewicz

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

Maciej was warming himself in the sun after finishing his
prayers, and was already setting about his household work. He
brought out grass and leaves; he sat down in front of his house
and whistled: at this whistle a multitude of rabbits bobbed up
from beneath the ground. Like narcissuses suddenly blooming above
the grass, their long ears shine white; beneath them their bright
eyes glitter like bloody rubies thickly sown in the velvet of the
greensward. Now the rabbits sit up, and each listens and gazes
around; finally the whole white, furry herd run to the old man,
allured by leaves of cabbage; they jump to his feet, on his
knees, on his shoulders: himself white as a rabbit, he loves to
gather them around him and stroke their warm fur with his hand;
but with his other hand he throws millet on the grass for the
sparrows, and the noisy rabble drop from the roofs.

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