‘It’s “If a body meet a body coming through the rye”!’ old Phoebe said. ‘It’s a poem. By Robert Burns.’
‘I know it’s a poem by Robert Burns.’
She was right, though. It is ‘If a body meet a body coming through the rye.’ I didn’t know it then, though.
‘I thought it was “If a body catch a body,” ‘I said. ‘Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around – nobody big, I mean – except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff – I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."
The Catcher in the Rye
"Над пропастью во ржи" я читала давно и отчего-то не прониклась. Возможно, читала слишком рано.
Но этот эпизод врезался в душу - и очень глубоко. Спасибо virkatoveri за цитирование.