Old northern forest under a high starry sky. Leaning against the trunk of an old hollow oak, the decrepit priest froze in dead stillness. His blue lips are half-open, his paused eyes no longer look on this visible side of eternity. Skinny arms folded in her lap. To his right are six blind old men on stones, stumps and dry leaves, and six blind women to their left, facing them. Three of them pray and lament all the time. The fourth is an old woman. The fifth, in a quiet insanity, holds a sleeping child on her lap. The sixth is strikingly young, her loose hair flowing over her shoulders. Both women and the elderly are dressed in broad, gloomy, uniform clothes. All of them, with their hands on their knees and covering their faces with their hands, are waiting for something. Tall graveyard trees - yews, weeping willows, cypresses - spread their reliable canopy above them. Darkness.
The blind are talking to each other. They are concerned about the long absence of the priest. The oldest blind woman says that the priest has been uneasy for several days, that he began to fear everything after the doctor died. The priest was worried that the winter might be long and cold. The sea scared him, he wanted to look at the coastal cliffs. The young blind man says that before leaving the priest held her hands for a long time. A tremor struck him, as if from fear. Then he kissed the girl and left.
"Leaving, he said," Good night! " - recalls one of the blind. They listen to the rumble of the sea. The noise of the waves is unpleasant to them. The blind remember that the priest wanted to show them the islet on which their shelter is located. That is why he brought them closer to the seashore. “You can’t wait forever for the sun under the arches of the dormitory,” he said. The blind are trying to determine the time of day. Some of them think that they feel the moonlight, they feel the presence of stars. The blind born are the least sensitive (“I hear only our breath [...] I never felt them,” one of them notes). The blind want to return to the shelter. One can hear the distant battle of the clock - twelve beats, but the blind cannot understand midnight or noon. Night birds gloatingly flap their wings above their heads. One of the blind offers, if the priest does not come, to return to the shelter, guided by the noise of a large river flowing nearby. Others are going to wait without moving. The blind tell each other where someone came from to the island, the young blind recalls their distant homeland, the sun, mountains, unusual flowers. (“I have no memories,” the blind-born says.) The wind flies. Heaps of leaves sprinkle. Blind it seems that someone is touching them. Fear covers them. The young blind woman smells flowers. These asphodels are a symbol of the kingdom of the dead. One of the blind manages to rip off a few, and the young blind weaves them into her hair. You can hear the wind and the roar of the waves on the coastal cliffs. Through this noise, the blind pick up the sound of someone's approaching steps. This is a shelter dog.She drags one of the blind to a motionless priest and stops. Blind people understand that there is a dead man among them, but they do not immediately find out who it is. Women, crying, kneel down and pray for the priest. The oldest blind man blames those who complained and did not want to go forward in the fact that they tortured the priest. The dog does not move away from the corpse. Blind people hold hands. A whirlwind twists dry leaves. The young blind distinguishes someone's distant footsteps. Large flakes of snow falling. Steps are approaching. The baby freaking out begins to cry. The young blind man picks him up and raises him so that he can see who is coming to them. The steps are approaching, you can hear the leaves rustling under someone's feet, the rustle of the dress is heard. Steps stop next to a group of blind people, “Who are you?” - asks the young blind man. No answer. “Oh, have mercy on us!” - exclaims the oldest. Silence again. Then comes the desperate cry of a child.
