tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2209364438745656332024-03-19T23:06:51.199+02:00BABA YAGA Y EL ALQUIMISTACultura y textos diversos.Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-73617357462620098462017-05-22T15:08:00.001+02:002017-05-22T15:08:10.515+02:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Festival del Còmic a Moscou. Llengües minoritàries i russa.<br />
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Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-88054732973063938032012-04-24T18:30:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:30:31.964+03:00La venerable Olga<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
La venerable Olga era una dona ja molt entrada en anys. Es vestia a
l'antiga, un mocador de colors li cobria els llisos cavells blancs,
deixant encara més evident els seu rostre arrugat i els grans ulls blaus
clars com el cel. Tenia una boca petiteta, que no impedia que d'allí
sortissin les pitjors paraules russes que un pogués imaginar. Els braços
cançats mostraven les lluites contínues amb el nombrós grup de gats que
havitaben la seva casa. Una faldilla també de colors, feta per ella
mateixa li arribava fins als peus, coberts per unes botes <i>balinquis. </i>Era
vídua, ja feia anys que el seu marit Mitia havia mort d'un càncer.
Molta gent de la zona havia mort els darrers anys del càncer. Les proves
nuclears de l'epoca soviètica no s'atoraren fins ben entrats els anys
90 quan el sistema es desintegrà del tot. Mentre treia un dels nombrosos
enciams que tenia al seu petit hort per fer-se una aminda, recordava
com durant els 80 les dèbils finestres es movien pel vent provocat per
les explosions nuclears. La consigna era no dir res de res. No preguntar
era seguir vivint. Alguns, els més molestos foren enviats lluny, als
camps de treball de Sibèria. Ara ja s'enviava a ningú a enlloc, era
massa car i difícil de justificar. Ara el govern a través de la
televisió els deia què fer, els anuncis no deixaven de martillejar les
cosnciències de la gent, fent-los creure que tot anava bé, que vivien en
un món millor, lliure, ple d'oportunitats infinites, la idea que ells
perseguiren durant tots els anys de comunisme. Ara no existien les
fonteres i per tant tot aniria a millor. Havien passat més de vint anys
del somni i l'únic canvi eren les cares dels diputats, ni els
presentadors havien canviat, els joves dels fills dels rics suubstituïen
els pares. Aquell somni s'havia convertit en un malson, borratxos pels
carrers, la policia que no només no feia res per a la gent sinó que a
més a més d'una forma descarada col·laborava amb els mafiosos, amenaçant
a la gent, els nous petits rics que veien una oportunitat per crèixer i
viure millor. Pagant al funcionari corrupte del registre públic i el de
l'ajuntament, la policia passava la informació a les organitzacions
mafioses dels rics de la ciutat i aquells es dedicaven a amenaçar-los,"
si no pagues, et fotarem foc a la casa o al negoci". Llavors, l'amenaçat
es dirigia a la policia que "s'oferia" a proteguir-lo. Asumpte
arreclat. El mafiós de cavell rapat, d'ulleres negres i abric llarg
negre desapareixia i tothom quedava tranquil per un temps. Així
funcionava la nova Rússia. Prou bé que ho sabia la vella Olga, que en
més d'una ocasió havia hagut de donar a la veïna alguna col per tal que
aquesta parlés amb el seu fill que treballava a la oficina de correus
per així li portéssin les factures a casa seu a l'hora. De la simple
col, tant comuna per aquelles terres la corrupció creixia i creixia
desmesuradament fins a arribar a límits increïbles. Tot s'ha de dir que
sempre havia estat així. No només la corrupció sinó també el problema
dels borratxos. Només cal lleguir una mica la literatura rusa i un s'he
n'adona de la profunditat del problema. Ja fos per la major passiviatat
de les autoritats abans les cose eren diferents. Més cara a cara,
sobretot en pobles petits com Kangur. Ara ja no. Calia un contacte que i
aquest un altre i un altre fins a perdre el compte per poder parlar amb
l'interessat. Potser eren coses de vells, l'època daurada pensava ella,
que sempre quan un es feia vell veia el passat com una cosa ideal, però
en el seu cas el passat era la segona guerra mundial, una època de
mort, fam i penúria, molta penúria i ideals fracassats. Movent el cap,
parlant amb ella mateixa recordava l'arribada dels comunistes al poble,
joves contents, feliços, que creien en un futur igual i millor per a
tothom. Fins i tot ella, que ra jove en aquell temps s'ho havia cregut i
compartit. Però no gaire temps. Quan de la penúria de la guerra es
passà a la penúria de la pau. Per raons estratègiques del tot
incomprensibles el poble rus seguí passant fam abans, durant i desprès
de la guerra. Els camps de treball, on en teoria eren camps destinats a
la millora de la qualitat del poble soviètic, es convertiren en camps
tolerats d'explotació, diferenciant-se del Golag només que als camps un
tornava a casa amb la familia esgotat i podia veure la seva familia cada
dia i al Gulag eren els guàrdies borratxos els únics qui veies. Ni tan
sols podien tenir més d'una vaca a casa, fos la familia gran o petita i
les racions per treballar al camp eren ínfimes. Una mica de pa, una mica
de carn i poca cosa més. Per sort seva, la familia de l'Ola disponia
d'un camp fèrtil i en conivència amb els veïns conrreaven patates i
altre verdures intentant que les autoritats no n'informessin de res. Amb
una bossa de patates o unes cols. Com ara. Pensà la senyora Olga
espolsant l'ensiam ple de terra i tiran-lo dins la galleda plena de
tomàquets i altres hortelisses. Res no ha canviat a Rússia. I amb passos
lents, clavant els peus menudets dins dels solcs de l'hort s'anà
apropant a la casa de fusta, gran, buida d'animals ja i de bales de
palla, fins i tot els veïns anaren marxant o morint amb el temps. La
senyora Olga era la més gran de la petita vila de no més de 300
habitants. Sense joves que volguéssin continuar amb les feixugues feines
del camp i del rígid clima que tenia la zona. 6 mesos d'intens hivern,
colgats de neu, sense aigua calenta corrent i una carretera feta mal bé.
L'atrotinat autocar passava cada dia prop del llogaret però es feia
necessari encara caminar trenta minuts a peu, camp a través per arribar
al poble. No existia para d'autobusos tal com ens ho imaginem
nosaltres. No existia una parada. Allí s'atorava el conductor imitant
com ho havia fet sempre el seu pare o el seu avi, copiant les costums de
la gent o d'algun company de feina anterior. No existia ni una sola
senyal, ni una trista barbacana de fusta o plàstic o de ciment, res de
res. Només laq gran inmensitat dels boscos russos, els camps llaurats o
coberts per la neu. Al costat de la parada descansaven grans blocs de
fusta tallada acuradament. La venda de fusta per les grans fàbriques de
paper era, potser, l'unic gran negoci que encara funcionava a la
comarca. Els inmensos camions de dos cossos passaven nit i dia per
aquella carretera sense asfaltar portant grans troncs cap al sud. La
majoria dels homes de la comarca es dedicaven a la tala i transport de
la fusta. <br />
<div>
Els dos gats sortiren de sobte per la porta del
darrera de la casa que donava al camp, on abans hi havia les vaques i
gallines. Tot i els crits de la iaia Olga, les dues gates peludes
s'enroscaren una a cada cama, miulant i ronronajant sense parar. </div>
<div>
Però,
no veieu que no porto res de manjar per a vosaltres? Des quan us
agraden les cols i les patates? Sarmonejava la vella Olga, dibuixant un
somriure. La gata Mia era una peluda i grassa gata de color negre i
blanc que li agardava dormir a prop d'una de les dues apadessades
finestres de la cuina, ben al costat de la finestra, a prop de la taula
de menjar. Era com si vigilés des de la finestra qui passava pel carrer o
com si volgués controlar el fred aire per tal que no entrés dins de
casa. L'altre gata la Pitia , era també peluda, rossa i blanca i
preferia dormir sobre la petxka, la cuina econòmica russa. Cal fer aquí
una explicació. La petxka de l'àvia Olga era tant gran que permetia
dues persones estirar-se al damunt durant els dies d'hivern. La petxka
era fins no fa ven poc en l'objecte més important de la casa, era la
calefacció i la cuina. En el cas de la iaia Olga estava recoberta de
guix i unes capes de pintura, en altres casos se les cobria de ceràmica
de tots colors o de senefes gracioses i colorides. La iaia Olga tenia
una altre petxka al saló-dormitori, es podia considerar afortunada. </div>
<div>
Seguint
els seus passos, l'Olga s'assegué a un banc proper a l'entrada de la
casa. Des d'allí podia veure la vanya, la sauna rusa, on es dutxava
normalment i on descansava envoltada de vapors, al costat hi havia el
garatge, amb el tractor que el seu marit havia ell mateix construït,
utilitzant peçes d'altres tractors i cotxes. i més a l'esquerra, prop
del carrer, a mig caure hi havia una teulada que tapava la llenya
necessaria per passar l'hivern i cuinar. A això s'ahavia reduït la nova
rússia moderna. Res havia canviat molt. Les úniques coses noves que
tenia era un televisor que funcionava de tant en tant, ningú es
preocupava de posar una antena col·lectiva, a qui li importava, i petita
nevera on hi guardava el poc menjar qe tenia, la resta el tenia envesat
en pots de vidres, una col·lecció de pots que s'amagatzamaven any rera
any. Just davant de la seva casa hi havia l'únic telèfon del poble, unit
a un pal de la llum. El telèfon, de color blau, durant l'hiven quedava
cobert per la neu i no era possible d'utilitzar, i quan no era la neu
l'inutilitzava algun borratxo amb el seu cotxe, que com ulisses amb les
sirenes s'hi veia atret a tot gas. </div>
<div>
De botigues al
poble no n'hi havia, només hi havia una caseta de fusta que funcionava
dos cops a la setmana on s'hi podien comprar els aliments més bàsics com
el pà o la llet. Quan feia molt de fred, llavors l'home de la fornera
repartia casa per casa aquells mateixos productes, fent a l'hora una
llista d'altres productes que fossin urgents com medecines. La única
farmàcia disponible es trobava a Ilinsk, capital de comarca,
relativament a prop però impossible d'anar-hi durant el cru hivern amb
l'atrotinat autocar. </div>
<div>
L'entrada de la casa era de color
blau clar amb un munt de petits vidres de colors que formaven dos grans
finestres per on entrava el sol. La casa estava dividida en dos, la
meitat pels animals i l'altre per les persones. Dues grans portes de
massissa fusta frenquejaven l'entrada deixant un ampli recibidor que
conectava la seva casa amb les quadres ara vuides. Ni els ratolins
vivien per aquella zona. </div>
<div>
Els seus ulls blaus es
confonien amb el cel blau i clar d'aquell dia. Ni un sol núvol creuava,
cosa extranya el cel. Calçada amb els seus balinquis i posant-se el
mocador de vius colors a lloc es dirigí carregada amb les dues galledes
dins de casa, deixant milers de records a fora, junt els gats que
després de mirar-la un moment seguiren jugant amb les grogues flors que
despuntejaven prop de la porta. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-83677919150392214852012-04-24T18:29:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:29:27.033+03:00El Doctor Ivan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6EDf1o4Fx5fBlx1irE3SHElfi1CuntWVx2zuVjSUTUQ0-ksXa2rlMeyjaL7Dmxz3oeJ8UesbqIEkvPlMbKdXjRdc9KaRvvkVBR_hyobxrEj65-kJFEP8zGwfYZpz8e9k_-jkKfgWovKa/s1600/P1090150.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="300" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588862733934315426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6EDf1o4Fx5fBlx1irE3SHElfi1CuntWVx2zuVjSUTUQ0-ksXa2rlMeyjaL7Dmxz3oeJ8UesbqIEkvPlMbKdXjRdc9KaRvvkVBR_hyobxrEj65-kJFEP8zGwfYZpz8e9k_-jkKfgWovKa/s400/P1090150.JPG" style="float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 200px;" width="400" /></a>El Doctor Ivan Ivanovic Baranov era un home corpulent entrat ja en
anys, de cabells grisosos, amb petites entrades, de cabell curt, tipus
militar, cara rodona, ample, d'ulls blaus clars com el cel amb
tonalitats grisosesi verdoses segons com s'asagués al seu sofà que
reposava prop de la finestra. Un llarg bigoti estil cosac penjava per
sota del seu nas molsut. Algunes arrugues es dibuixaven sota els seus
ulls i front.<br />
La poca activitat física dels darrers anys o potser
la deixadesa física més que moral li havien fet guanyar uns quants
quilos col·locats tots al voltant de l'estómac i a les grosses i
molsudes mans. de veu clara i greu produïa sempre als seus pacients
respecte unit al temor. El nostre doctor vestia un senzill jersei gris
de llana blanca natural de coll alt i senzills i gastats pantalons de
pana marronosos i unes botes negroses desgastades per la part interior
de la sola, degut al seu caminar que recordava els pingüins, de lluny.<br />
Assegut
al seu petit despatx colgat de llibres de tot tipus, apilats sense
ordre, flors i algunes fotos de la seva època universitària, li agradava
prendre un té ben calent cada dia puntualment a les vuit del matí, per
costum o per record del seu pas per l'hospital civil de Moscou durant la
seva joventut, quan encara perseguia infermeres o doctores, joves o més
madures que passaven el dia a l'hospital com ell. En aquella sala
blanca per personal del centre hospitalari on l'únic mobiliari a part
de les cadires de la pitjor qualitat , una taula plena de tasses pel té ,
un<span style="font-style: italic;"> samovar</span> vell iluminat per
la trista làmpara blanca i rodona d'estil soviètic i una trista planta
exòtic, déu sap d'on havia sortit que la senyora Grigorieva cuidava de
tant en tant. Allí es reunien tots a les vuit del matí amb les tasses
fuemejant i el gorogoteig del samavar per escalfar-se una mica,
programar el dia i aixoplugar-se dels problemes del treball, com
gallines en un corral. El té els escalfava l'esperit i el cos i després
d'uns segons de silenci el doctor Valeri Stepanovich començava
,rescant-se la gola , la llarga llista d'operacions i demès feines a
fer. Remercant sobretot les paraules als nous vinguts.<br />
Difícils
temps foren els 90 per a tothom, recordava el doctor Ivan mentre es
bebia el té servit per la senyora Lluba Grigoreva. Temps de molta gana,
fred i poca esperança i inici de les grans fortunes que ara
monopolitzaven el pais, com si es tractés d'un reinici de l'època
soviètica de nou, canviant l'estrella roja per anuncis multicolors i un
consum desenfrenat i sense control.<br />
El dia que deixà la clínica i
Moscou no se'n penedí gens. D'això ja en feia ara un bon grapat d'anys.
La tranquilitat del poble d'Ilinsk el deseperava i el tranquilitzava a
l'hora. Li produïa un reconfort profund, com el té que es prenia pel
matí.<br />
La petita ciutat d'Ilinsk era el centre regional i económic
de la comarca Beligodskaya, al nord de Rússia, de l'autonomia
d'Arhanglesk.<br />
Les cases la majoria de fusta i algunes, les més
noves de maó gris, fruit dels temps de bonança, resseguien el curs del
riu Viled per ambdues bandes formant una llarga fila de cases escampades
formant llarguíssims carrers creuant-se uns als altres sense saber a
vegades quin era quin. Dos ponts creuaven el riu, un d'ells recentment
inaugurat, de ferro, s'alçaven per sobre les aigües.<br />
Durant
l'hivern el Viled romania completament gelat fent possible creuant-lo a
peu, alguns aprofitaven per pescar, tapats de dalt a baix, coberts per
plàstics i acompanyats per una botella de vodka barat per escalfar-se o
un termo de té.<br />
Tornant al nostre doctor, el nostre protagonista
vivia en una d'aquestes cases pintades de fusta, una casa d'una sola
planta sólida, ja una mica cremada pel sol i el vent, mig pintada de
colors blau cel, la paret, i color blanc els marcs de les finestres, amb
petites sanefes vermelles per sobre del blanc. Un conjunt de tubs
resseguien les parets interiors de la casa, repartint el calor per tota
la casa a través de la <span style="font-style: italic;">petxka</span>,
una espècia de cuina econòmica que funciona amb troncs, anar a buscar
troncs i trencar-los eren una de les activitats preferides del doctor
cada matí i encendre el la petxka per escalfar la casa i l'aigua per
dutxar-se.<br />
eEls mobles eren senzills, simples però cómodes, sense
pretencions, i l'únic objecte que es podria destacar era el silló de
pell que es trobava al seu despatx, un record de la seva època a
Vologda.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-74853299862854599042012-04-24T18:26:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:26:44.226+03:00De Moscou a Varkutà: 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiXqO8MI2V6zKsVnS-JbCJgj7ieM0d27QXOJeMKdPYbxPtBtWZlIoexeIj5rdPm5rkpox4vNDuGUGOeq1ISq0WgoKgEB3Hjo57xVyqAKmy_4NMjRTJnixvxHAlNO7dS9iKf80t0zCVYBWE/s1600/P1040258.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588862869223163250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiXqO8MI2V6zKsVnS-JbCJgj7ieM0d27QXOJeMKdPYbxPtBtWZlIoexeIj5rdPm5rkpox4vNDuGUGOeq1ISq0WgoKgEB3Hjo57xVyqAKmy_4NMjRTJnixvxHAlNO7dS9iKf80t0zCVYBWE/s200/P1040258.JPG" style="float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 200px;" /></a>La bonica estació de metro se li presentà un cop més al nostre Ivan
amb tot l'esplendor de les èpoques passades. Les parets de grog clar
clar amb els relleus i els mosaics dels moments més importants de la
revolució bolxevic. Visca els comunistes! Pensà un breu moment no sense
deixar de somriure maliciosament per sota el seu bigoti. Les grans
làmpares, aranya enormes entrelleçades es aven magestusoes a les
petites làmpares dels dos corredors laterals. D'aquí es dirigí a un
llarg túnel blanc, de llums blanques, cares blanques, una espècie de
purgatori, anotà mentalment el doctor, que s'unia a unes escales
mecàniques que conduien a la sortida passant per una cúpula amb
relleus, cap la salvació, al carrer controlat per decenes d'àngels
custodis d'estrelles vermelles relempejants.<br />
<br />
Un cop
dins el tren: el sistema de la taula i els llits, els llançols planxats
i col·locats dins una bossa. Tot ordenat, com també les gracioses
tasses i vasos per preparar el té. Les llums s'apaguen. els sotracs del
tren començen.Les parades i les estacions fantasmes. Com a les
pel·lícules d'espies. La neu que no para de caure colgant mica en mica
els alts arbres que s'enfilen amunt i amunt amb les puntes doblades pel
fred i la neu, com nassos arronsats pel fred.<br />
Els vagons vells,
refets una i altre vegada, amb una mica de robell a les portes, la
pintura a punt de caure, consumida pel robell, les finestres per on hi
passa l'aire, i, entre els vidres, espeladraps encaixats als marcs
interiors de fusta per frenar el fred. les cortines de plàstic de color
granate, amb un pal travasser de fusta que permet baixar-les, no sense
l'esforç de dos o més passatgers.<br />
Les maletes sota els seients i sobre els caps. la màquina de l'aigua calenta amb les instruccions penjades a la paret.<br />
El
lavabo estret i humit, de fusta i plàstic, clavat al terra, que amb un
pedal fa baixar l'aigua, i l'aixeta per rentar-se les mans on és
necesari empènyer cap amunt per rentar-se les mans. El mirall petit,
mig enfosquit de tant mirar-s'hi. La petita bombeta sobre el mirall.
L'assegurador de la porta. La finestra tancada amb dos ferros
entrevessats.<br />
A mà dreta trobem les dues cambres dels revisors. En
una treballen i donen o serveixen els té o cafes que la gent demana, a
l'altre tenen l'habitació per dormir. Just a mà esquerra trobem las
màquina de l'aigua calenta i la porta que ens porta al llarg passadís on
es reperetixen a banda i banda els llits i passatgers, il·lumintas per
les grans finestres que permeten veure el bonic paissatge que se'ns
presenta. Els innumerables cotxes, les cases enormes de l'època
comunista, les cases anteriors a la revolució i les de nova construcció.
Els ponts i rierols. Les fàbriques grises algunes i d'altres pintades
amb vius colors, amb vidres trencats, les parets calcinades, a punt de
caure, esglèsies recenment restaurades, de tots colors, gran i petites,
rodejades a vegades per les vies o les cases del ja antic centre antic
de les localitats. Edificis nous de ciement o maò, de fusta, monuments
de sants, herois nacionals d'altres èpoques o membres del partit
comunista.<br />
Les senyores grans assegudes als bancs parlant entre
elles criticant alguna amiga no present o ja parlant dels seus néts,
mirant de reüll alguna de les noies que escotades i amb tacons esperen
el tren, movent aquelles el cap en senyal de profunda desaprovació, però
repassant el seu pantinat o el seu maquillatge amb tota l'atenció del
moment, mentre la noia es miralla en un petit mirall que porta dins el
bolso.<br />
Les lliteres agafades a les parets amb grans cargols. Amb dues bandes.<br />
Arbres
coberts de neu, doblats pel pes de la neu, alguns trencats i amontegats
uns sobre els altres. Un gos surt d'una casa i es passeja tímidament al
voltant de la casa, trepitjant el blanc jardí, olorant les plantes que
encara sobresurten. El sol comença a sortir donant tonalitats rojes al
paisatge. El tren s'endinsa més i més dins els boscos, sotregant de tant
en tant, llançant la neu per les vies cobertes. El gel s'agafa als
vagons, formant dibuixos a les finestres, fent difícil en algunes
d'elles veure-hi del tot.<br />
Algunes persones començan a recollir les
mantes i llençols, baixen a la següent parada. El revisor del ton del
matí reconta les peçes de roba. Altres passatgers rellegeixen algun
llibre, d'altres juguen amb la canalla, emocionats, més propers al seu
destí final, veure el <span style="font-style: italic;">Ded Moroz</span>, el Papa Nöel Rus, Algun gat que treu el cap tímidament observa un petit gos que es passeja pel corredor.<br />
Un
cementiri cobert per la neu, amb les baranes de fusta de colors, a les
làpides diferents símbols, estrelles comunistes, símbols ortodoxes i
fins i tot algun amb simples flors sense cap símbol religiós de cap
mena.<br />
Nens plorant, altres saltant i rient amb les mares també
cridant perqué no poden escoltar els interessants comentaris de la seva
amiga que parla sobre el seu marit. Tema bàsic d'aquests viatges. El
marit, mentrestant, dorm o parla amb un altre sobre política o del a
vida en general, mirant de reüll a la seva dona de tant en tant.<br />
El marit, generalment gros i quan pensem gros vol dir gros, amb una panxa i brassos enormes, cap rodó com de pà de ral.<br />
D'altres
en canvi, sabent que no tenen el marit a prop, expliquen sense
escarafalls la seva vida més privada, tot i que clar, és un secret. No
és interessant si ningú ho escolta.<br />
Cartells avisant de la
perillositat de creuar les vies rodegen les estacions, de colors vius i a
punts alts, doncs durant l'hivern neva molt i podria passar si no es
fes així que quedés colgat no fent-lo visible.<br />
Grans tubs
sobresurten d'uns edificis negres. Són les centrals eléctriques que
donen d'escalfar a la gent. La majoria dels radiadors estàn
centralitzats i començen a funcionar, tots, el mateix dia, i no deixen
de funcionar fins que el govern considera que ja no fa fred.<br />
Pals de teléfon convertits en torres de gel i els seus cables coberts per dues pells, una de gel i una altre de neu.<br />
Una llarga estela de pols blanca segueix el tren. Com un cometa.<br />
En
algunes parts els arbres es mostren ordenats, ben col·locats, en
perfecta formació, fila rera fila, d'altres de forma caótica creixen,
caient uns sobre els altres, recolzats tots ells uns als altres. Arbres
grans petits i minúsculs tots formant un únic arbre o un gran cementiri
d'arbres, escampats per la plana.<br />
Fum negre d'una altre central
elèctrica tenyint el blau cel i altre cop vagons verds i blaus aturats a
l'estació esperant per ser units a una màquina. Casetes de fusta blava
creixen prop de l'edifici de mahons grisos de l'estació. Vagons blaus,
marrons, negres, de formes rectangulars, rodons, amb finestres i sense
finestres, carregats amb fusta, maquinària, fuel, fusta, passatgers,
cartes...Llargs convois es creuen amb el nostre tren.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-3062097660896333082012-04-24T18:24:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:24:56.467+03:00De Moscou a Varkutà: 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjok8KXjSjr3_hcUbZ1Vd-wzQqU1r6r8jEBdDJJGgulP-25o-D8QtymG5fMc8y30tQat5pQ3-lvaTEbSEPUijrXb5dk27rgGeV7zrDkJR_c23xKN5TI-njmWzqAWs37ZP99A62sjxjfQebf/s1600/P9010085.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588866681335702098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjok8KXjSjr3_hcUbZ1Vd-wzQqU1r6r8jEBdDJJGgulP-25o-D8QtymG5fMc8y30tQat5pQ3-lvaTEbSEPUijrXb5dk27rgGeV7zrDkJR_c23xKN5TI-njmWzqAWs37ZP99A62sjxjfQebf/s200/P9010085.JPG" style="display: block; height: 150px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a>Al doctor Ivan li agradava fer parada a un petit café proper de
l'estació de Kotlas, on allí romania el tren durant uns llargs minuts.
El pont de ferro, desgastat i perillós, sobretot durant l'hivern,
creuava el complex lligam de vies plenes de vagons, màquines de tren,
operaris i altres serveis que oferia la gran estació. Després de 21
hores dalt del tren, aquella parada era perfecta per fer un mos i
estirar les cames una mica, fes fred o calor. <br />
<div>
El nostre
doctor recorria aquell barri cada any, se'l coneixia com el palmell de
la mà i de vegades fins i tot coincidia amb algun conegut que retornava a
moscou, o com ell, en els pitjors dels casos, també anava a Ilinsk. En
aquests casos, aperentava tenir una gran presa, i feia veure que
l'esperava un pacient greu, amb dos sabien que no era veritat, però
aquella excusa produïa un cert consol per als dos. Desprès d'unes
ràpides paraules cadascú retornava pel seu camí. La cultura russa li
agradava per aquest tipus d'engany complaent, volgut i a vegades
desitjat. No passava així en altre cultures, com havia llegit en algun
llibre que li havia caigut per casualitat a les seves mans durant la
seva època de galanteix amb les cultures europeas, aquestes doncs, els
agradava despedir-se i parlar i parlar, mai acabaven de dir adéu, en
canvi, la seva ràpidament un tornava pel seu camí, sense grans
escarafalls. </div>
<div>
El bar era petit, confortable, pràctic i
el més proper a l'estació. Les parets eren de color blau fosc, sense
arribar al fosc fosc, extrany d'explicar, adornades amb les garlandes
dorades de les festes del nadal passat o qui sap si del primer nadal
quan obriren la cafeteria, les llums eren unes tristes làmpares de color
taronja-blanc, esgrogeïdes unes mica pel pas del temps i possiblement
de l'aigua que continuament fumejava del samavar. Dues senyores servien
el menjar. Una era una marassa, grossa, de pits amples, prominents i
cara rodona poc riallera, al contrari del que es podia esperar
normalment en aquests casos, de metódic vestit, com si encara servís al
partit. Disciplinada. L'altre en canvi era una riallera camarera, una
mica poc treballadora, poc curosa amb el vestit que no deixava mai
d'observar els clients, satifesta de les seves pastes i el seu samavar,
sempre ple d'aigua i vols de sucre o café ràpid al costat. </div>
<div>
Després
dels anys del doctor sempre tenia la impressió que el recordaven de les
últimes vegades, però no eren capaçes cap de les dues de recorda-lo del
tot, a tots ens ha passat alguna vegada trobar-nos a algú que no saben
ben bé on ubicar, i és per això que es produïa entre aquest curiós
triangle un extrany intercanvi de mirades s que acabava sempre amb la
mateixa pregunta: "Què voldria?" (deia la marassa). "Un té siusplau,
sense sucre". "Alguna cosa per menjar? (deia simpàticament, quasi com
cantant la seca companya".</div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-80583340638565822972012-04-24T18:22:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:22:27.692+03:00De Moscou a Varkutà: 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAiqYSuBirjg4gVQAVzAVLSntGK2TiRQ4yzVt0Kzwnp2XR0R8h6UzK5C6ceN684crLqb3YWJswMdKdEuwXBD_lTUS1pd93Gmsi9hTR5lq5LM7F621rR-TuQvMCTATobU0EFcMoXdrJ17R/s1600/P1090151.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588862010025459858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDAiqYSuBirjg4gVQAVzAVLSntGK2TiRQ4yzVt0Kzwnp2XR0R8h6UzK5C6ceN684crLqb3YWJswMdKdEuwXBD_lTUS1pd93Gmsi9hTR5lq5LM7F621rR-TuQvMCTATobU0EFcMoXdrJ17R/s200/P1090151.JPG" style="float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 200px;" /></a>L'estació de Komsomolskaya de trens és una de les tantes
construccions que floreixen per tota la ciutat. Gran, enorme, per les
nostres concepcions, plena encara dels símbols de l'extinta Unió
Soviètica, conserva del tot el record inborrable del període soviètic
amb una convinació zarista, per la recàrrega de figures i hornaments
que rodejen les parets de l'estació.<br />
El metro també és una mostra
del poder i grandiositat de la capital rusa. El sostre està tot ell
adornat de diferents instants del líder de la revolució del 1917. La
policia, recorre la gran parada del metro de dalt a baix controlant els
passatgers que sense parar circulen per aquesta important estació de
la línia circular del metro. Enormes làmpares pengen del sostre. Moscou
té més de 300estacions de metro i ni una sola és iguala a la resta.
Totes enormes, ben organitzades pels que surten i els que entren tot i
la manca de noves màquines expenedores de bitllets o portes
automàtiques. A banda i banda els bagons es paren, cruixint, gemegant
autèntics blocs de ferro, de més de 50 anys funcionant, alguns encara
amb cartells clavats a les parets amb el nom del constructor i els
premis que reberen pel seu disseny durant les èpoques passades. Els
dos metros recorren els dos extrems de la parada i al vell mig resta la
gran sala on s'esperen els passatgers. Les pesades verdes portes
s'obren anunciant l'arribada a l'estació. Uns surten i altres baixen.
Els que baixen encara hauràn de recòrrer un llarg túnel i desprès
encara una llarga escala mecànica iluminada per barroques làmpares per
arribar a una gran sala oval i d'allí unes grans portes de fusta els
portarà a l' estació de trens.<br />
Gran quantitat de petites parades
es reuneixen en pinya per diferents zones de l'estació. Gent anant d'un
lloc a l'altre recorren l'estació. A una banda queda l'edifici de
l'estació de Sant Petersburg, antiga estació i per l'altre un edifici
part nou part vell d'on surten els trens que s'endisen per la Rússia
desconeguda, inóspita i exòtica. D'allí surt el nostre tren. Cap al
Nord Blanc i verd, fred, calurós a vegades, només, això sí, durant el
juliol, a l'agost a vegades ja hi neva o hi comença a gelar. Més de dos
mil kilómetres haurem de recórrer per arribar a Varkuta, una de les
últimes estacions i ciutats del Nord rus.<br />
El nostre tren és com
tot el pais, un incomprensible conglomerat dels anys 50-60 amb la
tecnologia més puntera. La màquina i els vagons pràcticament no han
canviat.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-59339522120413972642012-04-24T18:21:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:21:09.589+03:00De Moscou a Vorkuta 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Els grans vagons de ferro, plens de fusta, tots ells pintats amb
perfectes enumeracions de lletres i números, indesxifrables, donant un
aire de secretisme, com si tot el país fos un gran secret d'estat, com
si les mateixes persones també en formessin part indisoluble.<br />
Vies
mortes, vies que s'endinsen tot d'una dins dels boscos, sense cap
enllumentat per enlloc, sense cases al voltant o a quilómetres,
centenars de quilómetres de línies metàl·liques sense fi creuant la
basta extensió de terreny i boscos inacabables.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSldIqSiojE7mUywiXogVPC2RqA48sve1ancAjstlTupXXuhLbqf3Y1JdPl3Q7_8-wIt08pvI-az-nXo-I8MYDSP_ASnsKnqOnsRm6se2eObrFbXTrF25K9vkGHdmlZ-md2WOvSOeXTet/s1600/P8090486.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588865287982652082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSldIqSiojE7mUywiXogVPC2RqA48sve1ancAjstlTupXXuhLbqf3Y1JdPl3Q7_8-wIt08pvI-az-nXo-I8MYDSP_ASnsKnqOnsRm6se2eObrFbXTrF25K9vkGHdmlZ-md2WOvSOeXTet/s200/P8090486.JPG" style="float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a><br />
Maresmes, llacs
envoltats d'esglèsies, rierols, rius petits, rius grossos i rius com
mars passen i desapareixen per la nostre finestre inpreganda amb el
vapor del té que la revisora amablament ens ha servit. Gots de l'època
de Hruschov, envellits ja però amb bon estat, tractats amb molta cura
pel personal dels trens. Aquí i allà, cases de fusta d'un sol pis , la
majoria pintades de colors diferents, amb les teulades plenes de neu,
les ximeneies fumejant i el fum tímid sense saber per on anar,. Segons
m'han dit, si el fum puja cap amunt vol dir que farà fred, i si en
canvi no puja vol dir que el dia següent no serà molt fred. Encara és
possible veure cases amb vitralls de colors dibuixant l'estrella
comunista o petites estrelles clavades a l'entrada de la casa. No per
amor al període comunista sinó per pur pasotisme, doncs ens endinsem a
una terra remota on els diferents governs que hi han hagut poca cosa
han fet per la seva gent. Els governs cauen i venen de nous, però la
seva forma de viure, extrema poc canvia.<br />
Omnipresents les velletes
amables, sempre somrients, tapades amb coloristes mocadors, llargues
faldilles també de colors, carregades de productes que venen als
famolencs viatgers, alguns turistes com nosaltres, de Moscou, que també
volen descobrir el seu propi pais o retornar als seus orígens, del
pare o de la mare.<br />
Els propis revisors i revisores són el
contrast d'èpoques en una de sola, amb els seus cabells de tots els
colors, rosa, ros natural, negre fosquíssim, pèlroig natural,
castany... A la gent del Nord se'ls veu d'una hora lluny, la majoria
rossos d'ulls blaus. Mares grosses, autèntiques matrones afables amb
els seus fills però perilloses i grolleres amb els fills dels altres.
Mans grosses i terrendoses, que no paren de picar sempre alguna cosa.
Algunes d'elles podrien ben bé competir amb els esportistes de sumo
japonés. Grosses, corpulentes, disciplinades a més no poder. Necessari
en aquestes contrades de poca llum solar i tant llarg hivern.<br />
Les
llums s'apaguen, és hora de descansar, i només hem recorregut uns pocs
quilòmetres, unes quantes hores. Encara ens queda molt camí. El
catacrec del tren és constant, imatges apagades de cases prop de les
vies amb algunes cares difuminades que miren des de dins, cares
rodones i vermelles, contentes de veure que la vida continua com cal.
El tren passa i aixó és bó. Sense canvis doncs de la gran capital. El
tren passa en uns pocs segons per una petita estació. Es saluden el
conductor i el cap d'estació de lluny. El gos i el revisor tapat de
dalt a baix amb els valinki, botes típiques pel fred, els guants, la
jaqueta i el gorro retornen a la petita cambra iluminada per una petita
làmpara i una petita calefacció elèctrica. En aquella petita estació
hi podria haver mort el gran escriptor Tolstói, el genial escriptor, i
aquest no hi hauria trobat pràcticament cap diferència desprès de cent
anys de la seva mort.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-25296971249454222832012-04-24T18:14:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:14:48.618+03:00Fum de la Xemeneia. Pal de Paller<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Em sentia cansat. Les cames em dolien, des de sempre havia tingut
problemes a les articulacions i de tant en tant s'inflamaven com un
globus de fira. El meu treball tampoc és que m'ajudés molt. Assegut
hores i més hores en aquell remot racó, acompanyat per una estufa tampoc
era el millor lloc. <br />
<div>
L'Anna, la meva esposa sempre recordava
el moment que ens vam conèixer, un calorós estiu, en un bar, desprès
que un fort ruixat obligués a la gent a refugiar-se on fos per no quedar
xapo. A mi sempre m'ha agradat la pluja i recordo perfectament que vaig
estar a punt per deixar-me endur i caminar lentament pels carrers abans
d'arribar a casa, sentint les gotes relliscant pel front, resseguint la
cara, les mans i penetrant de mica en mica per la roba. M'ha agradat
sempre aquesta sensació. Això era quan era jove, en aquella època era un
galifardeu de 22 anys que estudiava hisòria a la universitat i la mare
una futura enginyera . </div>
<div>
ens vam conèixer doncs, dins el
bar de la font, ben a prop de la plaça de l'Ajuntament. Vaig entrar amb
les idees perdudes, com sempre, i recordo que la vaig empènyer sense
voler fent-la entrebancar amb una de les seves amigues. Jo la vaig
ajudar a aixecar-la i recordo perfectament que vaig quedar envadalit
pels seus ulls i el seu perfum que em feu tremolar de dalt a baix. No us
ha passat mai? Mireu a una persona o un objecte quansevol i un fred
estrany us recorre de dalt a baix per tot el cos fent-vos perdre per uns
moments la sensació del temps. Bè, a mi em va passar. A ella en canvi
no. Dona de caràcter em va esbroncar de valent. i jo mirant-la
absolutament envadalit, dibuixant un petit somriure, que encara la feu
enforismar més. Passada l'enraviada ens vam asseure tots junts a
prendre un cafè, resulta que entre les seves amigues jo hi tenia una
coneguda de la facultat. Encara ara no puc recordar, situar on la vaig
conèixer aquella Eva. Tampoc m'atreveixo de preguntar-li a la meva dona,
per por de no trencar el record del moment, per fer-lo més, com dir-ho,
més etern, com si pel fet de saber un detall més suposaria canviar tot
el quadre senser. Això passa. </div>
<div>
L'Anna duia un vestit
llarg, de flors estampades, viu, que ella mateixa s'havia cosit a casa.
Resulta que era una manetes d'allò mès amb la màquina de cosir. De fet,
sort en vàrem tenir, quan no teniem ni un duro, cosa normal, quan vam
acabar la carrera. Llincenciats i sense feina, un fet obligatori per
quasi la majoria dels estudiants. Però m'estic abançant als fets.
Continuem amb la descripció. Tenia els cabells recollits en uns llarga
treneta, era rosseta, tirant a pèl-roja, amb unes piges curioses sota
els ulls que es manifestaven cada cop que agafava color, això passava
només els mesos d'estiu, quan el sol apretava d'allò més. La resta de
l'any, les piges s'amagaven sota la pell, enconguides, tímides o
fredelugues de l'intens i llarg hivern. Unes sabatetes de color grisos
cobrien els seus petits peuets. </div>
<div>
Perdoni, aquell quadre d'allà, a quin autor pertany? És que a la guia posa una cosa i als auriculars en posa un altre...</div>
<div>
Rurih, l'autor és Rurih. Li agrada? </div>
<div>
Sí,
és interessant- va contestar la turista tímidament, sense saber com
continuar la converça. Es notava que l'anglés no era la seva llengua
materna. Desprès de pensar-s'ho dos segons, girà cua i retornà al
corredor sense gira-se, fins i tot podria dir amb certa pressa, com si
la vergonya l'empenyés lluny d'aquella secció del museu.</div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-38054694539244119522012-04-24T18:12:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:12:26.529+03:00Satisfacció<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxeHNscvJ4iWVwsV_AF07Fg2b_iIdvabMDDoCyA-WiXNyxZ62tXju9PD7dPVNrmJfDV68MLUpD5iFqy9l5dd5FiTSXoGR-uSyYgZqEMQc9xe-nU5elqZOTCYG72788972d2lFE2wFx4dG/s1600/IMAG0108.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588866061282849490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxxeHNscvJ4iWVwsV_AF07Fg2b_iIdvabMDDoCyA-WiXNyxZ62tXju9PD7dPVNrmJfDV68MLUpD5iFqy9l5dd5FiTSXoGR-uSyYgZqEMQc9xe-nU5elqZOTCYG72788972d2lFE2wFx4dG/s200/IMAG0108.JPG" style="float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 200px;" /></a>Avui he vist un home feliç, havia comprat un portàtil, feliç
teclejava el móbil, suposo, enviant un sms al seu fill per confirmar-li
la bona notícia. Som tant feliços quan aconseguim allò que la societat
ens ha ensenyat a fer. Comprar. Comprar és satisfacció, però només això
només. sinó també sentir-se dintre del sistema, estar realitzat i
d'alguna manera obtenir èxit personal. Què si no és més important que
això? Una altre dona aconseguiex comprar unes botes de tacons de pell
natural de cocodril. Satisfacció personal també. Se sent integrada dins
la societat, contenta passeja per la ciutat, ensenyant la bossa de
plàstic i arribant a casa feliç i com un nen emprovant-se les botes
altre cop davant del mirall. Integrada. És això el que volem realment?
És això l'èxit? Aconseguim l'èxit? <br />
<div>
Cal romiar-ho molt i
sentir-se molt content per sentir-se realment realitzat. La societat
ens enganya o més concretament els que han creat aquesta societat
d'ilusions ho han fet molt bé, enganyant-nos fins al punt de fer-nos
creure que si aconseguim amb esforç i molt de treball una cosa, per
exemple un cotxe o un portàtil ens hem de sentir contents i feliços.
Quin gran engany. Uns quants sense esforç amassen quilos de bitllets i
la resta necessita tota una vida d'esfoç per poder pagar els estudis
dels seus fills o comprar un pis petit.</div>
<div>
Satisfacció. Es això el que realment volem i busquem? Aquesta satisfacció ens costa car i dur. Massa.</div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-83578672663004030942012-04-24T18:10:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:10:54.849+03:00Propi: Els arbres<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Els arbres han mort, cauen pel pes del gel com si de fulles es
tractéssin. La gent tapada fins el nas se'ls mira caure indiferents.
Arriben tard al treball. Tapats per la bufanda, gorro, jaqueta,
leotardos no es preocupen del fred dels arbres. Qui se n'hauria de
preocupar d'aquests dinosaures de pell fosca i arrugada?<br />
Un altre
arbre cau, prop d'un cotxe. Les alarmes alerten a la gent, alguns
gossos lladren espantats, tothom mira els cotxes, no sigui pas el seu
l'afectat. A als arbres, ningú els mira. Per qué els hi hauriem de fer
cas?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWF6OyN8hA-cc6oeMmJzAV2SE4B_fnCamlSo_GGxZS9aCV4QxLYSxukDuy4P5nmWBeNKm0567aHUeDQc7rjuwZRwINrT72TiHq7SIC3U9cVitO4qLoTA9SfvNZbIPTPqNxeIdbUsOisTyR/s1600/_MG_7414.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588863777122532114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWF6OyN8hA-cc6oeMmJzAV2SE4B_fnCamlSo_GGxZS9aCV4QxLYSxukDuy4P5nmWBeNKm0567aHUeDQc7rjuwZRwINrT72TiHq7SIC3U9cVitO4qLoTA9SfvNZbIPTPqNxeIdbUsOisTyR/s320/_MG_7414.JPG" style="float: right; height: 133px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 200px;" width="320" /></a><br />
A l'escorça dels arbres, arrugada, dura, gruixuda, aquest any
se'ls hi ha afegit una altre, de trasparent, líquida, freda que els
abraça mortalment, trencan-los primer les branques i després el tronc
senser. Un altre arbre cau, cridant, gemengant és que ningú no ho podrà
aturar? La gent s'aparta i de la por passen a l'enfadament. Se senten
traïts per aquests arbres, que els donen només ombra i aixopluc durant
els calurosos i plujosos estius. No s'andonen, encara de la fatalitat
del cas. Qui podrà aixoplujar-se més sota les seves branques si no
existiran més. Llavors, quan ens n'adonem el terror ens recorrerà per
tot el cos, però llavors, ja serà massa tard. Culparem als altres, al
clima fins i tot a la lluna o deú qui sap qui, però els arbres ja no hi
seràn, el sol ens esclafarà els nostres rostres, i la pluja inundarà
els nostres vestits. Llavors ja serà tard.<br />
Els arbres ens avisen
de la nostre solitud. A la seva manera ens ho diuen ben clar. El món,
el planeta ens ha girat l'esquena, ja no es refia de nosaltres, hi ha
decidit, com feien els camicazes japonesos, destruïr-se ella mateixa,
abans que nosaltres ho fem en nom del futur. El món s'autocaba, i ho
tenim ben merescut. Fa temps que ens avisa, ens renya, ens plora, i fins
i tot ens castiga de tant en tant, però nosaltres, com alumnes rebels
que som , en nom de la llibertat res no fem i per nosaltres ni per ella
per evitar-ho. Així som nosaltres, els humans. Incapaços d'escoltar i
escoltar-nos els uns als altres. Sords-muts de cap a peus.<br />
La
Terra ha decidit acabar amb tot. Suicidar-se, com feien els nobles
romans, quan ja per motius personals o per evitar ser condemnats
preferien els suicidi voluntari, a casa, cómodament instal.lats al
triclini, tallant-se les venes, Així el nostre planeta ho fa, amb la
consciència tranquila d'aher-ho donat tot. Per qué cal que ho sapiguem
bé, que ho entenguem d'una vegada i per totes, tot el que tenim ho hem
tret d'ella. Sense judicis morals, personals, objectius, subjectius o
teológics, per altre banda judicis tots ells exclusivament humans, ella
mateixa ha decidit acabar. Un Ja N'hi ha prou!! Ja n'estic farta de
tot plegat, de les meves entranyes m'ho treieu tot, dels meus boscos ho
feu tot malbé, malvarateu les meves riqueses, les meves venes d'aigua
blava, els meus boscos, els meus animls i amics, que pel fet de no
saber parlar com vosaltres, els menyspreeu, els elimineu, els
extermineu espècie rera espècia. Tot us sembla malament, inferior a
vosaltres, als vostres valors, sense preguntar, prefigurant les coses.
Sempre segons la vostre consciència. ...<br />
Els arbres es moren i tant us fa.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-36509534157738169152012-04-24T18:09:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:09:02.397+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3>
A Han Folktale</h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFplg6qbCl3fs7oMcSIDKTyqovnDM7hp-f5G5zRlEsGuU7Je8lRh0xzxKej91s9tneE0sqTsyVevV3cmhp0Tu60C4qCD55sa_3ISvoyNFu7gf78i7AoezhFEosWtZDX85VITlt3znAEJv/s1600/images.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556112345812349362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMFplg6qbCl3fs7oMcSIDKTyqovnDM7hp-f5G5zRlEsGuU7Je8lRh0xzxKej91s9tneE0sqTsyVevV3cmhp0Tu60C4qCD55sa_3ISvoyNFu7gf78i7AoezhFEosWtZDX85VITlt3znAEJv/s200/images.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 173px;" /></a><br />
A little over two hundred years
before our era, the first emperor of the Chin dynasty ascended the
throne under the name of Shih Huang. This emperor was very cruel
towards his subjects, forcing people from every part of the country to
come and build the Great Wall to protect his empire. Work never
stopped, day or night, with the people carrying heavy loads of earth
and bricks under the overseers' whips, lashes, and curses. They
received very little food; the clothes they wore were threadbare. So it
was scarcely to be wondered at that large numbers of them died every
day. <br />
There was a young man, named Wan Hsi-liang, among those who
had been pressed into the service of building Emperor Shih Huang's
Great Wall. This Wan Hsi-liang had a beautiful and virtuous wife, whose
name was Meng Chiang-nu. For a long, long time after her husband was
forced to leave her, Meng Chiang-nu had no news of him, and it saddened
her to think what he must be suffering, toiling for the accursed
emperor. Her hatred of the wicked ruler grew apace with her longing for
the husband he had torn from her side. One spring, when the flowers
were in bloom and the trees budding, when the grass was a lush green,
and the swallows were flying in pairs in the sky, her sorrow seemed to
deepen as she walked in the fields, so she sang: <br />
<blockquote>
In March the peach is blossom-dressed;<br />
Swallows, mating, build their nest.<br />
Two by two they gaily fly....<br />
Left all alone, how sad am I!</blockquote>
But
even when autumn came round, there still was no news about Wan
Hsi-liang. It was rumored that the Great Wall was in building somewhere
way up north where it was so cold that one would hardly dare stick
one's hands out of one's sleeves. When Meng Chiang-nu heard this, she
hurriedly made cotton-padded clothes and shoes for her husband. But who
should take these to him when it was such a long way to the Great Wall?
Pondering the matter over and over, she finally decided she would take
the clothes and shoes to Wan Hsi-liang herself. <br />
It was rather
cold when she started out. The leaves had fallen from the trees and, as
the harvest had been gathered in, the fields were empty and forlornly
dismal. It was very lonely for Meng Chiang-nu to walk all by herself,
especially since she had never been away from home in her life, and did
not know the way and had to ask for directions every now and then. <br />
One
evening she failed to reach a town she was going to, so she put up for
the night in a little temple in a grove beside the road. Having walked
the whole day, she was very tired and fell asleep as soon as she lay
down on a stone table. She dreamed her husband was coming towards her,
and a feeling of great happiness enveloped her. But then he told her
that he had died, and she cried bitterly. When she woke up in the
morning, she was overwhelmed by doubts and sadness as she remembered
this dream. With curses on the emperor who had torn so many families
asunder, Meng Chiang-nu continued on her way. <br />
One day, she came
to a small inn by the side of the hilly road. The inn was kept by an old
woman who, when she saw Meng Chiang-nu's hot face and dusty clothes,
asked where she was going. When Meng Chiang-nu told her, she was deeply
moved. <br />
"Aya!" she sighed, "the Great Wall is still far away from
here, there are mountains and rivers to cross before you. How can a
weak young woman like yourself get there?" But Meng Chiang-nu told the
old woman she was determined to get the clothes and shoes to her
husband, no matter what the difficulty. The old woman was as much
touched by the younger one's willpower as she was concerned about her
safety. The next day she accompanied Meng Chiang-nu over a distance to
show her sympathy. <br />
And so, Meng Chiang-nu walked on and on and
on till, one day, she came to a deep valley between the mountains. The
sky was overcast with gray clouds, a strong wind was blowing that
chilled the air. She walked quite a long time through the valley
without, however, finding a single house. All she could see were weeds,
brambles and rocks. It was getting so dark that she could no longer
see the road. At the foot of the mountains there was a river, running
with water of a murky color. Where should she go? Being at her wit's
end, she decided to spend the night among some bushes. As she had not
eaten anything for the whole day, she shivered all the more violently
in the cold. Thinking of how her husband must be suffering in this icy
cold weather, her heart contracted with a pain as sharp as a knife.
When Meng Chiang-nu opened her eyes the next morning, she found to her
amazement the whole valley and her own body covered with a blanket of
snow. How was she to continue her travel? <br />
While she was still
quite at a loss as to what to do, a crow suddenly alighted before her.
It cawed twice and flew on a short distance, then sat down again in
front of her and cawed again twice. Meng Chiang-nu decided that the
bird was inviting her to follow its direction and so she resumed her
travel, a little cheered because of the company of this living thing,
and she began to sing as she walked along: <br />
<blockquote>
Thick and fast swirl round the winter snows:<br />
I, Meng Chiang-nu, trudge, bearing winter clothes,<br />
A starveling crow, alas, my only guide,<br />
The Great Wall far, and I far from his side!</blockquote>
Thus she walked past mountain ranges, crossing big rivers as well as small streams. <br />
And
thus many a dreary day had passed before she at last reached the Great
Wall. How excited she was when she caught sight of it, meandering like
a huge serpent over the mountains before her. The wind was piercingly
cold and the bare mountains were covered with dry grass only, without a
single tree anywhere. Clusters of people were huddling against the
Great Wall; these were the people who had been driven here to build it.
<br />
Meng Chiang-nu walked along the Great Wall, trying to find her
husband among those who were toiling here. She asked after her husband,
but nobody knew anything about him, so she had to go on and on
inquiring.... She saw what sallow faces the toilers had, their
cheekbones protruding through the skin, and she saw many dead lying
about, without anybody paying any attention. Her anguish over her
husband's unknown fate increased, so that she shed many bitter tears as
she continued her search. <br />
At last she learned the sad truth.
Her husband had died long ago because of the unbearably hard toil, and
his body had been put underground where he fell, under the Great Wall.
Hearing this tragic news, Meng Chiang-nu fell into a swoon. Some of the
builders tried to revive her, but it was a long while before she
regained consciousness. When she did, she burst into a flood of tears,
for several days on end, so that many of the toilers wept with her. So
bitter was her lament that, suddenly, a length of over two hundred
miles of the Great Wall came crumbling down, while a violent storm made
the sand and bricks whirl about in the air. <br />
"It was Meng
Chiang-nu who, by her tears, caused the Great Wall to crumble!" the
people along the edifice told one another with amazement, at the same
time filled with hatred of the cruel emperor, who caused nothing but
misery to his subjects. <br />
When the emperor heard how Meng
Chiang-nu had brought part of his Great Wall down, he immediately went
to see for himself what sort of person she was. He found that she was
as beautiful as a fairy, so he asked her to become his concubine. Meng
Chiang-nu who hated him so deeply for his cruel ways would, of course,
not consent to this. But she felt a ruse would serve her purpose better
than frankness, so she answered amiably: "Yes, I will, if you do three
things for me." The emperor then asked what these three things were
and Meng Chiang-nu said: "The first is that you bury my husband in a
golden coffin with a silver lid on it; the second is that all your
ministers and generals go into mourning for my husband and attend his
funeral; the third is that you attend his funeral yourself, wearing
deep mourning as his son would do." Being so taken with her beauty, the
emperor consented to her requests at once. Everything was, therefore,
arranged accordingly. In funeral procession, Emperor Shih Huang walked
closely behind the coffin, while a cortege of all his courtiers and
generals followed him. The emperor anticipated happily the enjoyment
the beautiful, new concubine would give him. <br />
But Meng Chiang-nu,
when she saw her husband properly buried, kowtowed before his tomb in
homage to the deceased, crying bitterly for a long time. Then, all of a
sudden, she jumped into the river that flowed close by the tomb. The
emperor was infuriated at being thwarted in his desires. He ordered his
attendants to pull her out of the water again. But before they could
seize her, Meng Chiang-nu had turned into a beautiful, silvery fish and
swam gracefully out of sight, deep down into the green-blue water. </div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-61667718421152627042012-04-24T18:03:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:03:30.167+03:00African tales: The Rabbit Grows a Crop of money<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"><i style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: silver; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">When
the rainy season began and the chief was arranging the gardening
program, he called the animals and asked what each would sow. One chose
maize and another millet. One promised to grow kassave and another
rice.</i></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrToxfIXvaM_479xcVTBi0Zg_c5Ap-MawTjyvMEDrpGtRkzQVHQN2gkXo6OKi0bCy2wZsfGHzNqwEs7ZtbKLsBvVcAUnrARJXfWibOsfH6A3VPTnOVKTiP_41tlZu_8m-Imj5h3b16HnV/s1600/image.asp.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555997270634965442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrToxfIXvaM_479xcVTBi0Zg_c5Ap-MawTjyvMEDrpGtRkzQVHQN2gkXo6OKi0bCy2wZsfGHzNqwEs7ZtbKLsBvVcAUnrARJXfWibOsfH6A3VPTnOVKTiP_41tlZu_8m-Imj5h3b16HnV/s200/image.asp.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 144px;" /></a><br />
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"><i style="font-style: normal;">At
last the rabbit was asked what he would sow and he
answered, "Chief, if you give me a bag of money, I will
sow that." "Whoever heard of sowing money?" asked
the chief. "Then I will show you how to do
it," answered Kalulu. When Kalulu received the bag of money,
however, he went off and spent it all on clothes, dried fish, beads and
other things.<span lang="it"> </span>At harvesting time
the chief sent to the rabbit, saying, "Kalulu, bring in the money that
you have harvested." "The money grows very slowly. It is just
in the blade," said Kalulu. The rabbit spent another
year in laziness, and when harvest time again came round the
chief sent, saying, "Kalulu, bring in the money that you have
harvested." "The money grows very very slowly. It is just in
flower," answered Kalulu. Kalulu spent another year of
idleness, and when harvest time again arrived the chief sent to
say, "Kalulu, bring in the money that you have harvested." "The
money grows very slowly," said the rabbit. "It is just
in the ear." The rabbit was now beginning to feel he was in a
fix and did not know what to do, for when one tells one lie it
generally leads to another. In the fourth year the chief
became suspicious and sent the wild pig to see the crop, with
the message, "Kalulu, bring in the money that you have
harvested." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">Kalulu
knew now that he must do something, but he did not know what
to do. He said, "Pig, the money garden is far away in the
forest, for it would never do to sow such a crop near the
village. Everyone would want to steal it." "Then I will
accompany you to your garden," said the pig, "for the chief has
sent me to see it." Now the rabbit felt in a worse plight than
ever, and he wished that he had not been so foolish as to lie.
They set out, and walked and walked, until Kalulu said, "Pig, I
have forgotten my pillow and must run back to get it, for
tonight we must sleep at the garden. It is now too far to get
back in one day." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">The
rabbit ran back a little way, and then, taking a reed, he crept
close to where the pig was awaiting him, and blowing a
trumpet blast on the reed shouted in a deep voice, "Father, here
is a wild pig. Come quickly and let us kill him." The pig
thought that the hunters were upon his track and ran for his
life. Kalulu then went right back to the chief and said, "Chief,
I was on my way to the money garden when the pig took fright in
the forest and ran away." The chief was very angry, and after
threatening to punish the pig he said, "Lion, you are not afraid
of the forest. Go with Kalulu, What he may show you his money
garden." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">Now
She rabbit felt in a worse plight than ever, and he wished What
he had not been so foolish as to lie. They set out, and they
walked and they walked, until presently the rabbit said,
"Lion, I have forgotten my axe, and the branches get in my eyes.
Just wait till I run home for the axe." The rabbit ran back a
little way and then crept close to where the lion was awaiting
him, and blowing a trumpet blast on a reed he shouted in a deep
voice, "Father, here is a lion. Bring your arrows and let us
shoot him." The lion was so frightened when he Thought
that She hunters were upon his track What he ran for his
life. Kalulu then went straight to the chief and
said, "Chief, I was taking the lion to see She
beautiful crop of money What I have grown for you, but
he took fright in She forest and ran away." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">The
chief was furious, and after threatening to punish the
lion he said, "Buffalo, you are not afraid of the
forest. Go with Kalulu, that he may show you his
money garden." Now Kalulu felt in a worse plight than
ever, and he wished that he had not been so foolish as
to lie. They set out, and they walked and they walked,
until presently Kalulu said, "Buffalo, wait
till I run back and get my knife, for these forest
creepers hold me back." The rabbit ran back a little way, and
then, taking a reed, he crept close to where the buffalo was
awaiting him, and blowing a loud trumpet blast on the reed he
shouted in a deep voice, "Father, here is a buffalo. Bring your
spears and let us kill him." The buffalo thought that
the hunters were upon him and ran for his life. Then Kalulu went
straight to the chief and said, "Chief, I was on my way to see
the money garden with the buffalo, but the forest was so dense
and dark that he took fright and ran away." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">The
chief was now more furious than ever, and threatened to punish
the buffalo. "Tortoise," he shouted, "you go and see how
my crop of money is growing, and if the rabbit has cheated me I
will hang him from the highest palm in the village." Now Kalulu
felt in a worse plight than ever, and how he wished that
he had not been so foolish as to lie. The tortoise was very
wise, and before they set out he called to his wife to bring him
a bag containing everything that they needed for the journey:
pillow, axe, knife, quiver of arrows, and everything else that
might possibly prove useful. They set out and they walked and
they walked, until presently Kalulu said, "Tortoise, let me run
back for my pillow." "It's all right," said the
tortoise. "You can use mine." They went on and on, until Kalulu
said, "Tortoise, let me run back for my axe." "Don't worry,"
said the tortoise. "I have mine here." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">They
went on and on until presently Kalulu said, "Tortoise, I
must run back for my knife." "It does not matter," said the
tortoise. "I have mine here." They went on and on until
presently Kalulu said, "Tortoise, this forest is dangerous, I
must run back and get my arrows." "It's all right," said the
tortoise. "I have my arrows here." The rabbit now felt
in a worse plight than ever. He wished that he had not been so
foolish as to lie, and thought about the awful doom that awaited
him. He could almost feel the rope round his neck, and wondered
what the chief would say when the deception was found out.
Finally, in his fright, he ran off into the forest and bolted
home as fast as his legs could carry him. </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">"Quick,
wife!" he shouted. "We have not a moment to lose. You
must pretend that I am your baby. Pull all my fur out, and rub
me over with red clay. Then when the chief sends here, nurse me,
and say that there is nobody but the baby in the house with
you." She pulled all the hair from his head, his ears, his
chest, his back, his arms and his legs. Oh, how it hurt! Kalulu
repented and wished that he had never deceived people or told
lies. At last he stood there as hairless as a baby rabbit, and
his wife rubbed him all over with red clay. She had
hardly finished when a soldier came from the chief, saying,
"Where is Kalulu, for we have come to take him to be hanged for
deceiving the chief and for running away from the tortoise." </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">"Baby
and I are the only rabbits in the house," said Kalulu's
wife. "Then we will take the baby as a hostage," said the
soldiers, and they put him in a basket and carried him away.
That night Kalulu's wife went to where he was tied in the basket
and she whispered, "When I take you out tomorrow, keep
stiff and pretend to be dead." Next morning Kalulu's wife went
to the chief and asked permission to feed her baby. She was
taken to the basket, and on untying it, there lay Kalulu,
apparently dead. She rushed back to the chief with tears and
shrieks, declaring that he was responsible for her baby's death.
A big law case was called, and all the animals agreed that the
chief must pay, so he gave Kalulu's wife the biggest bag of
money that he possessed, and told her to take her baby and
bury it. </i></span></div>
<div style="color: silver; font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> <i style="font-style: normal;">As
soon as Kalulu's wife reached her home and untied
the basket, Kalulu jumped out. "Oh, how I
have suffered," he groaned. "I had to keep stiff though
my limbs ached and my toes were cramped in the basket. I
will never deceive anyone or tell lies again." His wife
showed him the bag of money, and after waiting till his
hair was grown, he set out with it for the chief's
village. "Chief," he said, "I have just returned from my
long, long journey to get you the harvest from your
money. Here it is. The tortoise was too slow, and
I could not stop for him." The chief took the
money and thanked Kalulu for the splendid crop, but was
ashamed to tell him of his dead baby. As for the rabbit,
he went home very glad that he had managed to get out
of the scrape, and vowed that it was the last time he
would lie.</i></span></div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-30664002124707796982012-04-24T18:01:00.001+03:002012-04-24T18:01:36.496+03:00Japanese tales: The story of Princess Hase<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Many,
many years ago there lived in Nara, the ancient Capital of Japan,
a wise State minister, by name Prince Toyonari Fujiwara. His wife
was a noble, good, and beautiful woman called Princess Murasaki
(Violet). They had been married by their respective families
according to Japanese custom when very young, and had lived
together happily ever since. They had, however, one cause for great
sorrow, for as the years went by no child was born to them. This
made them very unhappy, for they both longed to see a child of
their own who would grow up to gladden their old age, carry on the
family name, and keep up the ancestral rites when they were dead.
The Prince and his lovely wife, after long consultation and much
thought, determined to make a pilgrimage to the temple of
Hase-no-Kwannon (Goddess of Mercy at Hase), for they believed,
according to the beautiful tradition of their religion, that the Mother
of Mercy, Kwannon, comes to answer the prayers of mortals in the
form that they need the most. Surely after all these years of
prayer she would come to them in the form of a beloved child in
answer to their special pilgrimage, for that was the greatest need
of their two lives. Everything else they had that this life could
give them, but it was all as nothing because the cry of their
hearts was unsatisfied.<span lang="it"> </span>So the Prince Toyonari
and his wife went to the temple of Kwannon at Hase and stayed
there for a long time, both daily offering incense and praying to
Kwannon, the Heavenly Mother, to grant them the desire of their
whole lives. And their prayer was answered.<span lang="it"> </span>A
daughter was born at last to the Princess Murasaki, and great was
the joy of her heart. On presenting the child to her husband,
they both decided to call her Hase-Hime, or the Princess of Hase,
because she was the gift of the Kwannon at that place. They both
reared her with great care and tenderness, and the child grew in
strength and beauty.<span lang="it"> </span>When the little girl was
five years old her mother fell dangerously ill and all the doctors
and their medicines could not save her. A little before she
breathed her last she called her daughter to her, and </span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">gently stroking her head, said:<span lang="it"> </span>"Hase-Hime,
do you know that your mother cannot live any longer? Though I
die, you must grow up a good girl. Do your best not to give
trouble to your nurse or any other of your family. Perhaps your
father will marry again and some one will fill my place as your
mother. If so do not grieve for me, but look upon your father's
second wife as your true mother, and be obedient and filial to both her
and your father. Remember when you are grown up to be submissive
to those who are your superiors, and to be kind to all those who
are under you. Don't forget this. I die with the hope that you
will grow up a model woman."</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Hase-Hime
listened in an attitude of respect while her mother spoke, and
promised to do all that she was told. There is a proverb which
says "As the soul is at three so it is at one hundred," and so
Hase- Hime grew up as her mother had wished, a good and obedient
little Princess, though she was now too young to understand how
great was the loss of her mother.<span lang="it"> </span>Not long after
the death of his first wife, Prince Toyonari married again, a lady
of noble birth named Princess Terute. Very different in
character, alas! to the good and wise Princess Murasaki, this
woman had a cruel, bad heart. She did not love her step-daughter
at all, and was often very unkind to the little motherless girl,
saving to herself:<span lang="it"> </span>"This is not my child! this is not my child!"<span lang="it"> </span>But
Hase-Hime bore every unkindness with patience, and even waited
upon her step-mother kindly and obeyed her in every way and never
gave any trouble, just as she had been trained by her own good
mother, so that the Lady Terute had no cause for complaint against
her.<span lang="it"> </span>The little Princess was very diligent,
and her favorite studies were music and poetry. She would spend
several hours practicing every day, and her father had the most
proficient of masters he could find to teach her the koto
(Japanese harp), the art of writing letters and verse. When she
was twelve years of age she could play so beautifully that she and
her step-mother were summoned to the Palace to perform before the
Emperor.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">It
was the Festival of the Cherry Flowers, and there were great
festivities at the Court. The Emperor threw himself into the
enjoyment of the season, and commanded that Princess Hase should
perform before him on the koto, and that her mother Princess Terute
should accompany her on the flute.<span lang="it"> </span>The
Emperor sat on a raised dais, before which was hung a curtain of
finely-sliced bamboo and purple tassels, so that His Majesty might
see all and not be seen, for no ordinary subject was allowed to
looked upon his sacred face.<span lang="it"> </span>Hase-Hime was a
skilled musician though so young, and often astonished her masters
by her wonderful memory and talent. On this momentous occasion
she played well. But Princess Terute, her step- mother, who was a
lazy woman and never took the trouble to practice daily, broke
down in her accompaniment and had to request one of the Court
ladies to take her place. This was a great disgrace, and she was
furiously jealous to think that she had failed where her step- daughter
succeeded; and to make matters worse the Emperor sent many
beautiful gifts to the little Princess to reward her for playing
so well at the Palace.<span lang="it"> </span>There was also now
another reason why Princess Terute hated her step-daughter, for
she had had the good fortune to have a son born to her, and in her
inmost heart she kept saying:</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">"If only Hase-Hime were not here, my son would have all the love of his father."</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">And
never having learned to control herself, she allowed this wicked
thought to grow into the awful desire of taking her
step-daughter's life.<span lang="it"> </span>So one day she secretly
ordered some poison and poisoned some sweet wine. This poisoned
wine she put into a bottle. Into another similar bottle she poured
some good wine. It was the occasion of the Boys' Festival on the
fifth of May, and Hase-Hime was playing with her little brother.
All his toys of warriors and heroes were spread out and she was
telling him wonderful stories about each of them. They were both
enjoying themselves and laughing merrily with their attendants
when his mother entered with the two bottles of wine and some
delicious cakes.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">"You
are both so good and happy." said the wicked Princess Terute with
a smile, "that I have brought you some sweet wine as a reward—
and here are some nice cakes for my good children."</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">And she filled two cups from the different bottles.<span lang="it"> </span>Hase-Hime,
never dreaming of the dreadful part her step-mother was acting,
took one of the cups of wine and gave to her little step brother
the other that had been poured out for him.<span lang="it"> </span>The
wicked woman had carefully marked the poisoned bottle, but on
coming into the room she had grown nervous, and pouring out the
wine hurriedly had unconsciously given the poisoned cup to her own
child. All this time she was anxiously watching the little
Princess, but to her amazement no change whatever took place in the
young girl's face. Suddenly the little boy screamed and threw
himself on the floor, doubled up with pain. His mother flew to
him, taking the precaution to upset the two tiny jars of wine
which she had brought into the room, and lifted him up. The
attendants rushed for the doctor, but nothing could save the
child—he died within the hour in his mother's arms. Doctors did
not know much in those ancient times, and it was thought that the wine
had disagreed with the boy, causing convulsions of which he died.<span lang="it"> </span>Thus
was the wicked woman punished in losing her own child when she
had tried to do away with her step-daughter; but instead of
blaming herself she began to hate Hase-Hime more than ever in the
bitterness and wretchedness of her own heart, and she eagerly
watched for an opportunity to do her harm, which was, however, long in
coming.<span lang="it"> </span>When Hase-Hime was thirteen years of
age, she had already become mentioned as a poetess of some merit.
This was an accomplishment very much cultivated by the women of
old Japan and one held in high esteem.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">It
was the rainy season at Nara, and floods were reported every day
as doing damage in the neighborhood. The river Tatsuta, which
flowed through the Imperial Palace grounds, was swollen to the top
of its banks, and the roaring of the torrents of water rushing
along a narrow bed so disturbed the Emperor's rest day and night,
that a serious nervous disorder was the result. An Imperial Edict was
sent forth to all the Buddhist temples commanding the priests to
offer up continuous prayers to Heaven to stop the noise of the
flood. But this was of no avail.<span lang="it"> </span>Then it
was whispered in Court circles that the Princess Hase, the
daughter of Prince Toyonari Fujiwara, second minister at Court,
was the most gifted poetess of the day, though still so young, and
her masters confirmed the report. Long ago, a beautiful and
gifted maiden-poetess had moved Heaven by praying in verse, had brought
down rain upon a land famished with drought—so said the ancient
biographers of the poetess Ono-no-Komachi. If the Princess Hase were
to write a poem and offer it in prayer, might it not stop the
noise of the rushing river and remove the cause of the Imperial
illness? What the Court said at last reached the ears of the
Emperor himself, and he sent an order to the minister Prince
Toyonari to this effect.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Great
indeed was Hase-Hime's fear and astonishment when her father sent
for her and told her what was required of her. Heavy, indeed, was
the duty that was laid on her young shoulders—that of saving the
Emperor's life by the merit of her verse.<span lang="it"> </span>At
last the day came and her poem was finished. It was written on a
leaflet of paper heavily flecked with gold-dust. With her father
and attendants and some of the Court officials, she proceeded to
the bank of the roaring torrent and raising up her heart to
Heaven, she read the poem she had composed, aloud, lifting it
heavenwards in her two hands.<span lang="it"> </span>Strange indeed it
seemed to all those standing round. The waters ceased their
roaring, and the river was quiet in direct answer to her prayer.
After this the Emperor soon recovered his health.<span lang="it"> </span>His
Majesty was highly pleased, and sent for her to the Palace and
rewarded her with the rank of Chinjo—that of Lieutenant-General—to
distinguish her. From that time she was called Chinjo-hime, or
the Lieutenant-General Princess, and respected and loved by all.<span lang="it"> </span>There
was only one person who was not pleased at Hase-Hime's success.
That one was her stepmother. Forever brooding over the death of
her own child whom she had killed when trying to poison her
step-daughter, she had the mortification of seeing her rise to
power and honor, marked by Imperial favor and the admiration of the
whole Court. Her envy and jealousy burned in her heart like fire. Many
were the lies she carried to her husband about Hase-Hime, but all
to no purpose. He would listen to none of her tales, telling her
sharply that she was quite mistaken.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">At
last the step-mother, seizing the opportunity of her husband's
absence, ordered one of her old servants to take the innocent girl
to the Hibari Mountains, the wildest part of the country, and to
kill her there. She invented a dreadful story about the little
Princess, saying that this was the only way to prevent disgrace
falling upon the family—by killing her.<span lang="it"> </span>Katoda,
her vassal, was bound to obey his mistress. Anyhow, he saw that it
would be the wisest plan to pretend obedience in the absence of
the girl's father, so he placed Hase-Hime in a palanquin and
accompanied her to the most solitary place he could find in the
wild district. The poor child knew there was no good in protesting to
her unkind step-mother at being sent away in this strange manner, so
she went as she was told.<span lang="it"> </span>But the old
servant knew that the young Princess was quite innocent of all the
things her step-mother had invented to him as reasons for her
outrageous orders, and he determined to save her life. Unless he
killed her, however, he could not return to his cruel
task-mistress, so he decided to stay out in the wilderness. With the
help of some peasants he soon built a little cottage, and having
sent secretly for his wife to come, these two good old people did
all in their power to take care of the now unfortunate Princess.
She all the time trusted in her father, knowing that as soon as he
returned home and found her absent, he would search for her.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Prince
Toyonari, after some weeks, came home, and was told by his wife
that his daughter Hime had done something wrong and had run away
for fear of being punished. He was nearly ill with anxiety. Every
one in the house told the same story—that Hase-Hime had suddenly
disappeared, none of them knew why or whither. For fear of scandal
he kept the matter quite and searched everywhere he could think
of, but all to no purpose.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">One
day, trying to forget his terrible worry, he called all his men
together and told them to make ready for a several days' hunt in
the mountains. They were soon ready and mounted, waiting at the
gate for their lord. He rode hard and fast to the district of the
Hibari Mountains, a great company following him. He was soon far
ahead of every one, and at last found himself in a narrow picturesque
valley.<span lang="it"> </span>Looking round and admiring the
scenery, he noticed a tiny house</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGh60dTTz781s5Grc2UZDGEdp1AZSZ_XMLpyydsN5QU_5gSMPWGE7ZtJ3_zPtPLJY-0O_IBzgxLjd85IBlLXTvBxjN3Z-6aqSlvyaX-q983pDIG29Y-sLCYDsmMdVLhyphenhyphenyqvBy2yMvrdA/s1600/hase_hime.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555990823484650082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGh60dTTz781s5Grc2UZDGEdp1AZSZ_XMLpyydsN5QU_5gSMPWGE7ZtJ3_zPtPLJY-0O_IBzgxLjd85IBlLXTvBxjN3Z-6aqSlvyaX-q983pDIG29Y-sLCYDsmMdVLhyphenhyphenyqvBy2yMvrdA/s320/hase_hime.jpg" style="float: right; height: 269px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 289px;" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;"> on one of the hills quite near,
and then he distinctly heard a beautiful clear voice reading
aloud. Seized with curiosity as to who could be studying so
diligently in such a lonely spot, he dismounted, and leaving his
horse to his groom, he walked up the hillside and approached the
cottage. As he drew nearer his surprise increased, for he could
see that the reader was a beautiful girl. The cottage was wide
open and she was sitting facing the view. Listening attentively,
he heard her reading the Buddhist scriptures with great devotion.
More and more curious, he hurried on to the tiny gate and entered
the little garden, and looking up beheld his lost daughter
Hase-Hime. She was so intent on what she was saying that she neither
heard nor saw her father till he spoke.</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">"Hase-Hime!" he cried, "it is you. my Hase-Hime!"</span></div>
<div style="color: silver;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Taken
by surprise, she could hardly realize that it was her own dear
father who was calling her, and for a moment she was utterly
bereft of the power to speak or move.<span lang="it"> </span>"My
father, my father! It is indeed you—oh, my father!" was all she
could say, and running to him she caught hold of his thick sleeve,
and burying her face burst into a passion of tears.<span lang="it"> </span>Her
father stroked her dark hair, asking her gently to tell him all
that had happened, but she only wept on, and he wondered if he
were not really dreaming.<span lang="it"> </span>Then the faithful old
servant Katoda came out, and bowing himself to the ground before
his master, poured out the long tale of wrong, telling him all
that had happened, and how it was that he found his daughter in
such a wild and desolate spot with only two old servants to take
care of her.<span lang="it"> </span>The Prince's astonishment and
indignation knew no bounds. He gave up the hunt at once and
hurried home with his daughter. One of the company galloped ahead
to inform the household of the glad news, and the step-mother
hearing what had happened, and fearful of meeting her husband now
that her wickedness was discovered, fled from the house and
returned in disgrace to her father's roof, and nothing more was
heard of her.<span lang="it"> </span>The old servant Katoda was rewarded
with the highest promotion in his master's service, and lived
happily to the end of his days, devoted to the little Princess,
who never forgot that she owed her life to this faithful retainer.
She was no longer troubled by an unkind step-mother, and her days
passed happily and quietly with her father.<span lang="it"> </span>As
Prince Toyonari had no son, he adopted a younger son of one of
the Court nobles to be his heir, and to marry his daughter Hase-
Hime, and in a few years the marriage took place. Hase-Hime lived
to a good old age, and all said that she was the wisest, most
devout, and most beautiful mistress that had ever reigned in Prince
Toyonari's ancient house. She had the joy of presenting her son, the
future lord of the family, to her father just before he retired
from active life.<span lang="it"> </span>To this day there is
preserved a piece of needle-work in one of the Buddhist temples of
Kioto. It is a beautiful piece of tapestry, with the figure of
Buddha embroidered in the silky threads drawn from the stem of the
lotus. This is said to have been the work of the hands of the
good Princess Hase.<span><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span></span></div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-64123736697686019252012-04-24T17:59:00.003+03:002012-04-24T17:59:53.690+03:00Turkish tales: The smell of soup and<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="color: #666666;">
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span lang="EN-US"> <span style="font-family: Verdana;">A
beggar was given a piece of bread, but nothing to put on it.
Hoping to get something to go with his bread, he went to a nearby
inn and asked for a handout. The innkeeper turned him away with
nothing, but the beggar sneaked into the kitchen where he saw a
large pot of soup cooking over the fire. He held his piece of
bread over the steaming pot, hoping to thus capture a bit of
flavor from the good-smelling vapor. Suddenly the innkeeper seized
him by the arm and accused him of stealing soup. </span> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #666666;"> <span style="font-family: Verdana;">"I
took no soup," said the beggar. "I was only smelling the vapor."
"Then you must pay for the smell," answered the innkeeper. The
poor beggar had no money, so the angry innkeeper dragged him before
the qadi. Now Nasreddin Hodja was at that time serving as
qadi, and he heard the innkeeper's complaint and the beggar's
explanation. "So you demand payment for the smell of your soup?"
summarized the Hodja after the hearing. "Yes!" insisted the
innkeeper. "Then I myself will pay you," said the Hodja, "and I
will pay for the smell of your soup with the sound of money." Thus
saying, the Hodja drew two coins from his pocket, rang them
together loudly, put them back into his pocket, and sent the
beggar and the innkeeper each on his own way. </span></span></span></div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-15147288626949489502012-04-24T17:59:00.000+03:002012-04-24T17:59:00.071+03:00Serbian Fairy Tales: Narodne umotvorine: Ћела<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonnSFOSwAquEjJMA4B_3OuVsVeXdPKYUOuyx-smNAdQv3DuC5uF6MZgkFbztoxV4UY9Pi107LPn3saX_dvusXsA3mcfay3q8deKLTGCTCGSHNapAem7tGvtupdS0bUZh92empH6BNmFBd/s1600/The-Story-Of-Bashtchelik-The-Palace-of-the-Dragon-King.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555986099879502434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonnSFOSwAquEjJMA4B_3OuVsVeXdPKYUOuyx-smNAdQv3DuC5uF6MZgkFbztoxV4UY9Pi107LPn3saX_dvusXsA3mcfay3q8deKLTGCTCGSHNapAem7tGvtupdS0bUZh92empH6BNmFBd/s320/The-Story-Of-Bashtchelik-The-Palace-of-the-Dragon-King.jpg" style="float: left; height: 319px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a>Био један цар па имао три кћери. Две старије уда за царске синове, а на
најмлађој науми да остави царство, јер је била најлепша. У тога цара
био је један слуга којега су звали Ћела, јер је био ћелав. Тај слуга
ништа друго није радио, него само по башчи што је требало, али му је
башча тако била урађена као да је у њој радило десет људи, и сви су се
томе чудили. Царева је кћи често гледала с пенџера у башчу и говорила у
себи: "Боже мој, каква је то лепа башча и како је урађена, а ради је
само један човек, па још да је какав, него мали као шушица!" Једно
јутро царева кћи гледајући тако с пенџера и чудећи се, опази Ћелу у
башчи па му проговори: "За Бога, Ћело, како можеш ти сам толику башчу
тако лепо радити и држати?" А он јој одговори: "Госпођо девојко! ако си
рада знати, порани побоље па ћеш видети." Друго јутро царева кћи урани
врло рано, и стане да гледа у башчу нејављајући ни оцу ни матери, кад
али Ћели дошао змајевит коњ и донео му госпоско одело и оружје, и довео
уза се троје четворо чељади те раде башчу, а Ћела се обукао у оно
одело, те постао са свим други: није више ни ћелав него леп момак што
може бити, па узјахао на онога коња, те се шеће по башчи, а коњ да се
помами под њим: све му варнице из ноздрва севају. Она како види Ћелу,
загледа се у њега, али није хтела за дуго никоме казати. Кад многи
просци стану долазити и просити је, она најпосле каже да не ће ни за
кога него за Ћелу. Цар и царица кад то чују, стану је ружити и хулити:
"Како би ти за слугу пошла, па још да је какав, него Ћела. Хоћеш да нам
срамотиш царство." Али она то не хтедне ни слушати, него рече: "Или за
њега или ни за кога." Кад отац види да ништа не помаже, обуче је у
простачко одело и начини је као пуку простакињу, те је уда за Ћелу, па
им да иза града мало земље, а Ћела онде начини башчу и у њој колебу, и
стане живети с царевом кћери као сваки башчован, носећи зелен у град и
тако по штогод заслужујући. Али кад је год хтео, могао се претворити у
најлепшега човека, само је требало да звизне, па би одмах дотрчао
змајевит коњ и донео госпоско одело и оружје. Тако је трајало за неко
време, али на један пут ударе непријатељи на Ћелинога таста са две
стране, да није знао куда пре. Онда рече у себи цар: "Оне две кћери што
сам удао за царске синове, имам сад од њих помоћ, а ову од које сам се
највише надао, дадох за рђу." И тако цар у великој бризи изда заповест,
да свако иде на војску штогод може сабљу пасати. Ишле су војске све
једна за другом пред непријатеља, а гласови цару једнако несретни долазе
да војска пропада. Најпосле подигне се цар сам собом да види, како је
тамо. За њим пође и мало и велико, а с њим и Ћела на једном коњичку.
Сви су се Ћели подсмевали говорећи: "Сад ће добро бити, иде Ћела, он ће
непријатеља потрти и умирити." Кад дођу тамо, стану у логор, а и Ћела
за себе шатор начини, и остану онде три дана на миру. А четврти дан
започне се бој. Сад Ћела звизне, а коњ змајевити обри се пред њим. Ћела
одмах обуче оне госпоске хаљине што му је коњ донео, припаше сабљу па
уседне на коња и одмах улети у бој. Како он улети у бој, сва се
непријатељска војска узбуни: не зна се или више он сече или му више коњ
тлачи. И тако за тили час војска непријатељска прсне и разбегне се куд
које. Одмах дође глас цару под шатор да је у његовој војсци био јунак
који је непријатеља побио и да непријатељ иште мир. Цар одмах заповеди
да тај јунак дође предањ и да иште што хоће да га дарује. Ови први
гласници још и не оду да траже онога јунака, а то дођу други и кажу да
је то његов Ћела. Цар се удиви кад то чује, и није хтео веровати: "Кад
би он био, он би дошао к мени." А Ћела му поручи: "Кад пођемо кући,
напоред ћу с њим јахати." Кад се после тога учини мир и пођу натраг.
Ћела савије свој шатор и оно мало пртљага, и метне на свога коњичка, па
онда звизне а коњ се змајевит обри пред њим. Он обуче госпоско одело и
уседне на змајевита коња па пође с царем напоред да га сви виде да је
он. Кад цар види да је он, од радости се заплаче и тако у радости дођу
кући и онде цар још за живота свога преда Ћели царство, те Ћела постане
цар.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-17116388697054337882012-04-24T17:57:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:57:57.307+03:00Serbian Fairy Tales: Djevojka cara nadmudrila<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jedan siromah življaše u jednoj pećini i nemaše ništa do jednu šćer,
koja bijaše mnogo mudra i iđaše svuda u prošnju, pa i oca svoga učaše
kako će prositi i pametno govoriti. Dođe jednom siromah k caru da mu
štogođ udijeli; car ga upita okle je i ko ga je naučio mudro govoriti.
Ovaj mu odgovori okle je i kako ga je šćer naučila. ,.A šćer tvoja od
koga se naučila?" upita car, a siromah odgovori: "Bog je nju umudrio i
naša jadna siromaština." Tada mu car dade trideset jaja i reče mu:
"Ponesi ovo tvojoj šćeri i reci joj neka mi iz tijeh jaja izleže pilad,
pak ću je dobro darovati, ako li pak ne izleže, hoću te staviti na
muke." Siromah otide plačući u pećinu i kaže sve šćeri. Ona pozna da su
jaja varena, i reče ocu da pođe počinuti a da će se ona za sve brinuti.
Otac je posluša i otide spavati, a ona dohvati pinjatu i nastavi na
vatru punu vode i boba, ia kad svari bob, zovne ujutro oca i reče mu da
uzme ralo i volove pak da ide orati pokraj puta kuda će pasati car, i
reče mu: "Kad vidiš cara, uzmi bob pak sij, i viči: ""haj volovi, pomozi
Bože da rodi vareni bob."" Kad te car zapita kako može roditi vareni
bob, a ti reci: kao i iz varenijeh jaja izleći se pilad." Siromah
posluša šćer pa otide te stane orati; kad ugleda cara đe ide, on stane
vikati: "Haj volovi, pomozi Bože da rodi vareni bob." Čuvši car ove
riječi, stane na putu i reče siromahu: "Siromaše, kako može roditi
vareni bob?" A on mu odgovori: "Čestati pare, kao i iz varenijeh jaja
izleći se pilad." Stavi se car odmah da ga je šćer naučila, pa zapovjedi
slugama te ga uhvate i dovedu predanj, pa mu onda pruži povjesmo lana
govoreći: "Uzmi to, i od toga imaš učiniti guminu i jedra sva što je od
potrebe za jedan brod; ako li ne, izgubićeš glavu." Ovi siromah s
velikijem strahom uzme povjesmo i plačući otide doma i kaže sve svojoj
šćeri. Šćer ga pošlje da spava obećavajući da će ona sve to učiniti.
Sjutradan uzme mali komad drveta, pak probudi oca i reče mu: "Na ti ovo
drvo i ponesi ga caru neka mi od njega napravi kuđelju i vreteno i
stative i ostalo što trebuje, pak ću ja njemu napraviti sve što
naređuje." Siromah posluša šćer i iskaže caru sve kao što ga je ona
naučila. Car čuvši ovo začudi se i stane misliti šta će činiti, pa onda
dohvati jednu malu čašicu i reče mu: "Uzmi ovu čašicu i ponesi tvojoj
šćeri neka mi njom preseka more da ostane polje." Siromah posluša i
plačući ponese šćeri onu čašicu i kaže joj sve što je car rekao. Đevojka
mu reče da ostavi do sjutra i da će ona sve učiniti A sjutradan zovne
oca i da mu litru stupe i reče "Ponesi ovo caru i reci mu neka ovijem
zatisne sve izvore i sva jezera, pak ću ja presekati more." Siromah
otide i ovako caru reče. Car videći da je đevojka mnogo mudrija od
njega, zapovjedi mu da je dovede pred njega; a kad je dovede i oboje se
poklone pred njim, onda je car zapita: "Pogodi, đevojko, šta se može
najdalje čuti?" Đevojka odgovori "Čestiti care, najdalje se može čuti
grom i laž." Tada se car dohvati za bradu i obrnuvši se svojoj gospodin
zapita ih: "Pogodite koliko valja moja brada?" Kad jedni stanu govoriti
ovoliko drugi onoliko, onda đevojka odgovori svijema da nijesu
pogodili, pak reče: "Careva brada valja koliko tri kiše ljetne." Car se
začudi pa reče: "Đevojka je najbolje pogodila." Pa je onda zapita hoće
li biti njegova žena, i da drukčije ne može biti nego tako. Đevojka se
pokloni i reče: "Čestiti care! kako ti hoćeš neka bude, samo molim da
mi napišeš na karti svojom rukom, ako bi se kad gođ na me rasrdio i
mene od sebe oćerao, da sam gospođa uzeti iz tvoga dvora ono što mi je
najmilije." Car joj ovo odobri i potpiše. Pošto pasa nekoliko vremena,
car se na nju ražljuti i reče joj: "Neću te više za ženu, nego hajde iz
moga dvora kud znaš." Carica mu odgovori: "Svijetli care, poslušaću,
samo me pusti da prenoćim a sjutra ću poći." Car joj dopusti da
prenoći, onda carica kad su bili pri večeri pomiješa mu u vino rakiju i
neka mirisna bilja, i nudeći ga da pije govoraše mu: "Pij care veselo,
jer ćemo se sjutra rastati, i vjeruj mi da ću biti veselija nego kad
sam se s tobom sastala." Car se opjani i zaspi, a carica spravi karocu i
ponese cara u kamenu pećinu. Kad se car u pećini probudi i vidi đe je,
poviče: "Ko me ovđe donese?" A carica mu odgovori: "Ja sam te
donijela." Car je upita: "Za što si ti to od mene učinila? da li ti
nijesam rekao da više nijesi moja žena?" Onda mu ona izvadivši onu
kartu reče: "Istina je, čestiti care, da si mi to kazao, ali pogledaj
što si na ovoj karti potpisao: što mi bude najmilije u tvojemu domu da
ponesem sobom kad od tebe pođem." Car videći to, poljubi je i povrate
se opet u carski dvor.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-82065666969132234662012-04-24T17:53:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:53:47.481+03:00Icelandic Tales: Thorstein<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
THERE once reigned a king and queen, a long, long time ago, who had
an only child, a son called Thorstein. The lad was brave, strong, and
handsome, and was greatly beloved by everyone on account of his
kind-heartedness and open-handed generosity.<br />
<div class="i">
But as
years passed and he attained to man's estate, his indiscriminating
kindness was often taken advantage of. His father and mother tried to
check him, pointing out that heedless generosity often did more harm
than good; but Thorstein could not be brought to believe that kindness
could ever be wrong or do harm, and went on to give to everyone who
asked him, as long as he had anything he could part with.</div>
<div class="i">
At
length the king and queen died. On their death-bed they again tried to
impress on their son that a good and wise king must not only reign with
kindness, but also with justice. But though Thorstein, who loved his
parents dearly and was terribly grieved at the idea of losing them,
promised he would do his best and bear their wise counsel in mind, no
sooner were the burial ceremonies concluded and he was crowned king,
than all his good resolves to be firm and discriminating were scattered
to the winds.</div>
<div class="i">
He kept open house for all who choose to
come, gave gifts to all who asked, so that all the riches and treasure
his wise father had so carefully collected began very speedily to
disappear, without anyone being really the better or happier for them.</div>
<div class="i">
So
quickly indeed did all he had inherited vanish, that before many months
had passed he had nothing left but the kingdom itself; and then
realizing the truth, that a penniless king has but small authority or
power, he decided to part with his throne, and thus have some money
wherewith to make a fresh start in life.</div>
<div class="i">
There was no
difficulty in finding a buyer, and Thorstein, in exchange for a horse
and a sack filled with gold and silver, parted with his inheritance.</div>
<div class="i">
But
when he had once sold his kingdom, his so-called friends, who had been
so numerous before, now speedily began to drop off, and as the sack got
emptier, so did his companions grow fewer in number.</div>
<div class="i">
"There
will soon be nothing more to be got out of him," they said. "A fool and
his money are soon parted." So they gradually deserted him.</div>
<div class="i">
Then,
when it was too late, Thorstein began to realize the sad plight he had
brought himself to, and determined to quit the country, and leave his
false friends behind him. He therefore put together the few things he
had left, placed them on the horse he had bought, and mounting his own
fine chestnut, which he could never bring himself to part with, he
started off on his travels.</div>
<div class="i">
For a long time Thorstein
wandered on over desolate moors and through dark sombre forests, not
knowing or caring where he went or what became of him. He had no
friends, not a single creature to care for or who loved him, so he
allowed the horses to roam where they listed, letting them graze
whenever they came to any fresh grass, but beyond this never resting or
pausing anywhere.</div>
<div class="i">
Once, when they had stopped to graze
near a tiny stream on the banks of which the grass looked specially
fresh, he got off his horse, and throwing himself down on the ground
almost made up his mind to go no further. Why not rest there till death
overtook him? But even as this thought flashed through him, he raised
his eyes towards the west, where the sun was just setting in a bed of
crimson and gold, flushing all the distant peaks of the great
snow-capped mountains with magic rainbow hues.</div>
<div class="i">
While
still lost in wondering admiration at the gorgeous spectacle, the rosy
clouds suddenly parted, and a star of exquisite brilliancy shot down a
ray of light that seemed to touch Thorstein's face, and he heard a
voice saying: "Fear not, Thorstein, but go forth on your travels with a
brave heart. Learn from the mistakes of your youth, that indiscriminate
openhandedness is neither just nor kind, but only does harm, and that a
true sovereign must also be a father to his people."</div>
<div class="i">
And
even as the voice died away, the rosy light gradually faded from sky
and mountain, and the pale golden moon rose and shed its soft silvery
radiance over earth and sky.</div>
<div class="i">
Thorstein started to his
feet. He felt the warm blood coursing quickly through his veins; and
whistling to his horses, who came obedient to his call, he mounted his
noble chestnut with a light heart, fully determined to seek his
fortune. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-45432184759023110752012-04-24T17:52:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:53:04.049+03:00Finnish Fire Tile<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There was once a woman who had nine sons. They were good boys and
loved her dearly, but there was one thing they were always complaining
about.<br />
<div class="i">
"Why haven't we a little sister?" they kept asking. "Do give us a little sister!"</div>
<div class="i">
When
the time came that another child was to be born, they said to their
mother, "If the baby is a boy we are going away and you will never see
us again, but if it is a little girl then we shall stay home and take
care of it."</div>
<div class="i">
The mother agreed that if the child were a
girl she would have her husband put a spindle outside on the gatepost
and, if it were a boy, an axe.</div>
<div class="i">
"Just wait," she said,
"and see what your father puts on the gatepost and then you will know
whether it is another brother God has sent you or a little sister." The
baby turned out to be a girl and the mother was overjoyed.</div>
<div class="i">
"Hurry, husband!" she cried, "and put a spindle on the gatepost so that our nine sons may know the good news!"</div>
<div class="i">
The
man did so and then quickly returned to the mother and baby. The
moment he was gone Suyettar slipped up and changed the tokens. She took
away the spindle and put in its place an axe. Then with an evil grin
she hurried off mumbling to herself, "Now we'll see what we'll see!"</div>
<div class="i">
She
hoped to bring trouble and grief and she succeeded. As soon as the
nine sons saw the axe on the gatepost, they thought their mother had
given birth to another son and at once they left home vowing never to
return.</div>
<div class="i">
The poor mother waited for them and waited.</div>
<div class="i">
"What is keeping my sons?" she cried at last. "Go out to the gate, husband, and see if they are coming."</div>
<div class="i">
The man went out and soon returned bringing back word that someone had changed the tokens.</div>
<div class="i">
"The spindle that I put on the gatepost is gone/ 5 he said, "and in its place is an axe."</div>
<div class="i">
"Alas!"
cried the poor mother, "some evil creature has done this to spite us!
Oh, if we could only get word to our sons of the little sister they
were so eager to have!"</div>
<div class="i">
But there was no way to reach them, for no one knew the way they had gone.</div>
<div class="i">
In
a short time the husband died and the poor woman, abandoned by her
nine sons, had only her little daughter left. She named the child
Kerttu. Kerttu was a dear little girl and her face was as beautiful as
her heart was good. Whenever she found her mother weeping alone she
tried to comfort her and, as she grew older, she wanted to know the
cause of her mother's grief. At last the mother told her about her nine
brothers and how they had gone away never to return owing to the trick
of some evil creature.</div>
<div class="i">
"My poor mother!" she cried,
"how sorry I am that I am the innocent cause of your loss! Let me go
out into the world and find my brothers! When once they hear the truth
they will gladly come home to you to care for you in your old age!"</div>
<div class="i">
At
first the mother would not consent to this. "You are all I have," she
said, "and I should indeed be miserable and lonely if anything happened
you!"</div>
<div class="i">
But Kerttu continued to weep every time she
thought of her poor brothers driven unnecessarily from home and at last
the mother, realizing that she would nevermore be happy unless she
were allowed to go in search of them, gave up opposing her.</div>
<div class="i">
"Very
well, my daughter, you may go and may God go with you and bring you
safely back to me. But before you go I must prepare you a bag of food
for the journey and bake you a magic cake that will show you the way."</div>
<div class="i">
So
she baked a batch of bread and at the same time mixed a little round
cake with Kerttu's own tears and baked it, too. Then she said, "Here
now, my child, are provisions for the journey and here is a magic cake
that will lead you to your brothers. All you have to do is throw it down
in front of you and say, </div>
<div class="i">
"Roll, roll, my little cake! </div>
<div class="i">
Show me the way that I must take </div>
<div class="i">
To find at last the brothers nine </div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine!"</div>
<div class="i">
Then
the little cake will start rolling and do you follow wherever it
rolls. But, Kerttu, my child, you must not start out alone. You must
have some friend or companion to go with you."</div>
<div class="i">
Now it happened tliat Kerttu had a little dog, Musti, that she loved dearly.</div>
<div class="i">
'Til
take Musti with me!" she said. "Musti will protect me." So she called
Musti and Musti wagged his tail and barked with joy at the prospect of
going out into the world with his mistress.</div>
<div class="i">
Then Kerttu threw down the magic cake in front of her and sang,</div>
<div class="i">
"Roll, roll, my little cake! </div>
<div class="i">
Show me the way that I must take </div>
<div class="i">
To find at last the brothers nine </div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine!"</div>
<div class="i">
At
once the cake rolled off like a little wheel and Kerttu and Musti
followed it. They walked till they were tired. Then Kerttu picked up the
little cake and they rested by the wayside. When they were ready again
to start the cake a-rolling, all Kerttu had to do was throw it down in
front of her and say the magic rime.</div>
<div class="i">
Their first day was without adventure. When night came they ate their supper and went to sleep in a field under a tree.</div>
<div class="i">
The
second day they overtook an ugly old woman whom Kerttu disliked on
sight. But she said to herself, "Shame on you, Kerttu, not liking this
woman just because she's old and ugly!" and she made herself answer the
old woman's greetings politely and she made Musti stop snarling and
growling.</div>
<div class="i">
The old hag asked Kerttu who she was and where she was going and Kerttu told her.</div>
<div class="i">
"Ah!" said the old woman, "how fortunate that we have met each other!"</div>
<div class="i">
She
smiled and petted Kerttu's arm and Kerttu felt a shuddering. But she
restrained herself and told herself severely, "You're a wicked girl not
to feel more friendly to the poor old thing."</div>
<div class="i">
Musti
felt much as Kerttu did. He no longer growled, for Kerttu had told him
not to, but he drooped his tail between his legs and, pressing up close
to Kerttu, he trembled with fright. And well he might, too, for the
old hag was none other than Suyettar who had been waiting all these
years just for this very chance to do further injury to Kerttu and her
brothers.</div>
<div class="i">
Kerttu, poor child, was too good and innocent
to suspect evil in others. She said to Suyettar, "Very well, if our
ways he together then we can be comp anions."</div>
<div class="i">
So
Suyettar joined Kerttu and Musti and the three of them walked on
following the little cake. As the day advanced the sun grew hotter and
hotter and at last when they reached a lake Suyettar said, "My dear, let
us sit down here for a few moments and rest."</div>
<div class="i">
They all sat down and next Suyettar said: "Let us go bathing in the lake. That will refresh us."</div>
<div class="i">
Kerttu
would have agreed if Musti had not tugged at her skirts and warned her
not to. "Don't do it, dear mistress," Musti growled softly. "Don't go
in bathing with her! She'll bewitch you!"</div>
<div class="i">
So Kerttu said, "No, I don't want to go in bathing."</div>
<div class="i">
Suyettar
waited until they were again journeying on and then when Kerttu was
not looking she turned around and kicked Musti and broke one of the
poor little dog's legs. Thereafter Musti had to hop along on three
legs.</div>
<div class="i">
The next afternoon when they passed another lake, Suyettar tried again to tempt Kerttu into the water.</div>
<div class="i">
"The sun is very hot," she said, "and it would refresh us both to bathe. Come, Kerttu, my dear, don't refuse me this time!"</div>
<div class="i">
But
again Musti tugged at Kerttu's skirts and, licking her hand, whispered
the warning, "Don't do it, dear mistress! Don't go in bathing with her
or she will bewitch you!"</div>
<div class="i">
So again Kerttu said politely, "No, I don't feel like going in bathing. You go in alone and I'll wait for you here."</div>
<div class="i">
But
this was not what Suyettar wanted and she said, no, she did not care
to go in alone. She was furious, too, with Musti and later when Kerttu
was not looking she gave the poor little dog a kick that broke another
leg. Thereafter Musti had to hop along on two legs.</div>
<div class="i">
They
slept the third night by the wayside and the next day they went on
again always following the magic cake. In midafternoon they passed a
lake and Suyettar said, "Surely, my dear? you must be tired and hot. Let
us both bathe in this cool lake."</div>
<div class="i">
But Musti, hopping
painfully along on two legs, yelped weakly and said to Kerttu, "Don't
do it, dear mistress! Don't go in bathing with her or she'll bewitch
you!"</div>
<div class="i">
So for a third time Kerttu refused and later, when
she was not looking, Suyettar kicked Musti and broke the third of the
poor little dog's legs. Thereafter Musti hopped on as best he could on
only one leg,</div>
<div class="i">
Well, they went on and on. When night came
they slept by the roadside and then next morning they started on
again. The sun grew hot and by midafternoon Kerttu was tired and ready
to rest. When they reached a lake Suyettar again begged that they both
go in bathing. Kerttu was tempted to agree when poor Musti threw
himself panting at her feet and whimpered, "Don't do it, dear mistress!
Don't go in bathing with her or she will bewitch you!"</div>
<div class="i">
So Kerttu again refused.</div>
<div class="i">
"That's
right, dear mistress!" Musti panted, "don't do it! I shall soon be
dead, I know, for she hates me, but before I die I want to warn you one
last time never to go in bathing with her or she will bewitch you!"</div>
<div class="i">
"What's
that dog saying?" Suyettar demanded angrily, and without waiting for
an answer she picked up a heavy piece of wood and struck poor Musti
such a blow on the head that it killed him.</div>
<div class="i">
"What have you done to my poor little dog?" Kerttu cried.</div>
<div class="i">
"Don't mind him, my dear," Suyettar said. "He was sick and lame and it was better to put him out of his misery."</div>
<div class="i">
Suyettar
tried to soothe Kerttu and make her forget Musti, but all afternoon
Kerttu wept to think that she would never again see her faithful little
friend.</div>
<div class="i">
The next afternoon when Suyettar begged her to
go in bathing there was no Musti to warn her against it and at last
Kerttu allowed herself to be persuaded. She was tired from her many
days' wandering and it was true that the first touch of the cool water
refreshed her.</div>
<div class="i">
"Now splash water in my face!" Suyettar cried.</div>
<div class="i">
But
Kerttu did not want to splash water into Suyettar 's face, for she
supposed Suyettar was an old woman and she thought it would be
disrespectful to splash water into the face of an old woman.</div>
<div class="i">
"Do you hear me!" screamed Suyettar.</div>
<div class="i">
When
Kerttu still hesitated, Suyettar looked at her with such a terrible,
threatening expression that Kerttu did as she was bidden. She splashed
water into Suyettar 's face and, as the water touched Suyettar's eyes,
Suyettar cried out,</div>
<div class="i">
"Your bonny looks give up to me</div>
<div class="i">
And you take mine for all to see!"</div>
<div class="i">
At
once they two changed appearance: Suyettar looked young and beautiful
like Kerttu, and Kerttu was changed to a hideous old hag. Then too late
she realized that the awful old woman to whom she had been so polite
was Suyettar. "Oh, why,"Kerttu cried, "why did not I heed poor Musti's
warning!"</div>
<div class="i">
Suyettar dragged her roughly out of the water.
"Come along!" she said. "Dress yourself in those rags of mine and
start that cake a-rolling! We ought to reach your brothers' house by
tonight."</div>
<div class="i">
So poor Kerttu had to dress herself in
Suyettar's filthy old garments, while Suyettar, looking like a fresh
young girl, decked herself out in Kerttu's pretty bodice and skirt.</div>
<div class="i">
Unwillingly now and with a heavy heart Kerttu threw down the cake and said,</div>
<div class="i">
"Roll, roll, my little cake!</div>
<div class="i">
Show me the way that I must take</div>
<div class="i">
To find at last the brothers nine</div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine!''</div>
<div class="i">
Off
rolled the little cake and they two followed it, Kerttu weeping
bitterly and Suyettar taunting her with ugly laughs. Then suddenly
Kerttu forgot to weep, for Suyettar took from her her memory and her
tongue.</div>
<div class="i">
The little cake led them at last to a farmhouse
before which it stopped. This was where the nine brothers were living.
Eight of them were out working in the fields but the youngest was at
home. He opened the door and when Suyettar told him that she was
Kerttu, his sister, he kissed her tenderly and made her welcome. Then
he invited her inside and they sat side by side on the bench and talked
and Suyettar told him all she had heard from Kerttu about his mother
and about the tokens which had been changed at Kerttu's birth. The
youngest brother listened eagerly and Suyettar told her story so glibly
that of course he supposed that she was his own true sister.</div>
<div class="i">
"And who is the awful looking old hag that has come with you?" he asked pointing at Kerttu.</div>
<div class="i">
"That?
Oh, that's an old serving woman that our mother sent with me to bear
me company. She's dumb and foolish, but she's a good herd and we can
let her drive the cow out to pasture every day."</div>
<div class="i">
The
older brothers when they came home were greatly pleased to find what
they thought was their sister. They began to love her at once and to
pet her and they said that now she must stay with them and keep house
for them. She told them that was what she wanted to do and she said
that now she was here the youngest brother need no longer stay at home
but could go out every morning with the rest of them to work in the
fields.</div>
<div class="i">
So now began a new life for poor Kerttu. In the
morning after the brothers were gone Suyettar would scold and abuse
her. She would bake a cake for her dinner to be eaten in the fields and
she would fill the cake with stones and sticks and filth. Then she
would take Kerttu as far as the gate where she would give her back her
tongue and her memory and order her roughly to drive the cow to pasture
and look after it all day long. In the late afternoon when Kerttu
drove home the cow, Suyettar would meet her at the gate and take from
her her tongue and her memory, and then in the evening the brothers
would see her as a foolish old woman who couldn't talk. Every morning
and every evening Kerttu begged Suyettar to show her a little mercy,
but far from showing her any mercy, Suyettar grew more cruel from day
to day.</div>
<div class="i">
Suyettar was very proud to think that nine
handsome young men took her for a beautiful girl and she felt sure they
would never find out their mistake, for only Kerttu knew who she
really was and Kerttu was entirely in her power.</div>
<div class="i">
At
night seated in the shadow in a far corner of the kitchen with her nine
brothers laughing and talking Kerttu felt no sorrow for at such times
of course she had no memory. But during the day it was different. Then
when she was alone in the meadow she had her memory and her tongue and
she thought about her poor mother at home anxiously awaiting her return
and she thought of her nine sturdy brothers all of whom might now
through her mistake fall victims to Suyettar. These thoughts made her
weep with grief and as the days went by she put this grief into a song
which she sang constantly,</div>
<div class="i">
"I've found at last the brothers nine</div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine.</div>
<div class="i">
But they know me not from stick or stone!</div>
<div class="i">
They leave me here 'to weep alone.</div>
<div class="i">
While Suyettar sits in my place </div>
<div class="i">
With stolen looks and stolen face! </div>
<div class="i">
She snared me first with evil guile </div>
<div class="i">
And now she mocks me all the while: </div>
<div class="i">
By night she takes my tongue away. </div>
<div class="i">
She feeds me sticks and stones by day . . . </div>
<div class="i">
Oh, little they guess, the brothers nine, </div>
<div class="i">
That their own true mother is also mine!"</div>
<div class="i">
The brothers as they worked in nearby fields used to hear the song and they wondered about it.</div>
<div class="i">
"Strange!"
they said to one another. "Can that be the old woman singing? In the
evening at home she never opens her mouth and our dear sister always
says that she's dumb and foolish."</div>
<div class="i">
One afternoon when
Kerttu's song sounded particularly sad, the youngest brother crept
close to the meadow where Kerttu was sitting in order to hear the
words. He listened carefully and then hurried back to the others and
with frightened face told them what he had heard.</div>
<div class="i">
"Nonsense!"
the older brothers said. "It cannot be so!" However, they, too, wanted
to hear for themselves the words of the strange song, so they all
crept near to listen.</div>
<div class="i">
It looked like an old hag who was
singing but the voice that came out of the withered mouth was the voice
of a young girl. As they listened they, too, grew pale, </div>
<div class="i">
I've found at last the brothers nine</div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine,</div>
<div class="i">
But they know me not from stick or stone!</div>
<div class="i">
They leave me here to weep alone,</div>
<div class="i">
While Suyettar sits In my place</div>
<div class="i">
With stolen looks and stolen face!</div>
<div class="i">
She snared me first with evil guile</div>
<div class="i">
And now she mocks me all the while:</div>
<div class="i">
By night she takes my tongue away,</div>
<div class="i">
She feeds me sticks and stones by day! . . . </div>
<div class="i">
Oh, little they guess, the brothers nine,</div>
<div class="i">
That their own true mother is also mine."</div>
<div class="i">
"Can
it be true?" they said, whispering together. They sent the youngest
brother to question Kerttu, and when he had heard her story, he
believed it true. Then the other brothers went to her one by one and
questioned her and finally they were all convinced of the truth of her
story.</div>
<div class="i">
"It is well for us," they said, "if we do not all
fall into the power of that awful creature! How can we rescue our poor
little sister!"</div>
<div class="i">
"I can never get back my own
looks,"Kerttu said, "unless Suyettar splashes water into my eyes and
unless I cry out a magic rime as she does it."</div>
<div class="i">
The brothers discussed one plan after another and at last agreed on one that they thought might deceive Suyettar.</div>
<div class="i">
They
had Kerttu inflame her eyes with dust and come groping home one
midday. The brothers, too, were at home and as Kerttu came stumbling
into the kitchen they said to Suyettar, "Oh, sister, sister, see the
poor old woman! Something ails her! Her eyes are all red and swollen!
Get some water and bathe them!"</div>
<div class="i">
"Nonsense!" Suyetter said. "The old hag is well enough! Let her be! She doesn't need any attention!"</div>
<div class="i">
"Oh,
sister!" the youngest brother said, reproachfully, "is that any way
for a human, kindhearted girl like you to talk? If you won't bathe the
old creature's eyes, I will myself!"</div>
<div class="i">
Then Suyettar who
wanted them to think that she was a human, kindhearted girl said, no,
she would bathe them. So she took a basin of water over to Kerttu and
told her to lean down her head. As she splashed the first drop of water
into Kerttu's eyes, Kerttu cried out, </div>
<div class="i">
"My own true looks give back to me </div>
<div class="i">
And take your own for all to see."</div>
<div class="i">
At
once Suyettar was again a hideous old hag though still dressed in
Kerttu's pretty bodice and skirt, and Kerttu was herself again, young
and fresh and sweet, though still incased in Suyettar's rags. But the
brothers pretended that they saw no difference and kept on talking to
Suyettar as though they still thought her Kerttu. And Suyettar because
her eyes were blinded with the dust supposed that they were still
deceived.</div>
<div class="i">
Then one of the brothers said to Suyettar, "Sister dear, the sauna is all heated and ready. Don't you want to bathe?"</div>
<div class="i">
Suyettar
thought that this would be a fine chance to wash the dust from her
eyes, so she let them lead her to the sauna. Once they got her inside
they locked the door and set the sauna afire. Oh, the noise she made
then when she found she had been trapped! She kicked and screamed and
cursed and threatened! But Kerttu and the brothers paid no heed to her.
They left her burning in the sauna while they hurried homewards. They
found their poor old mother seated at the window weeping, for she
thought that now Kerttu as well as her sons was lost forever. As Kerttu
and the nine handsome young men came in the gate, she did not recognize
them until Kerttu sang out,</div>
<div class="i">
"I bring at last the brothers nine</div>
<div class="i">
Whose own true mother is also mine!"</div>
<div class="i">
Then she knew who they were and with thanks to God she welcomed them home. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-15664760636874925552012-04-24T17:51:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:51:18.751+03:00Danish: The Ale of the Trolls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
IN a homestead near Roskilde there once lived a man named Peter
Anderson, and in a hillock on his farm dwelt a number of trolls. They
were celebrating a wedding one day, and late at night they ran out of
ale. Then a troll went to the peasant, who had brewed ale not long
since, knocked at his door and said, "Will you help me out, and loan me a
cask of ale, Peter Anderson? I will bring it back again when we have
brewed."<br />
<div class="i">
"Who are you and where do you live?" asked the peasant.</div>
<div class="i">
"I am the man from the hillock over there," said the troll.</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes, go down into the cellar and help yourself to a cask," said the peasant. The troll got the ale and went home with it.</div>
<div class="i">
A few nights later the troll came to the house again and knocked. The peasant woke up and asked, "Who is knocking?"</div>
<div class="i">
"It
is I," said the troll, "I am bringing back the ale I borrowed from
you. I have put it in the cellar and am going to reward you for being so
obliging. If you take care not to look in the cask, you can draw from
it as long as you wish, and it will never grow empty."</div>
<div class="i">
For
a long time all went well; they drew and drew and there was always ale
in the cask, and no one ever looked into it. But one day they had a
new maid, and she could not understand how it could be that there was
never any ale brewed; and yet there was always ale on hand. So she
determined to look into the cask, to see whether it would not soon be
empty. But what was her fright when she saw that the cask was full of
toads. And from that moment on there was no more ale in it. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-85969737292465077732012-04-24T17:50:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:50:35.838+03:00Swedish: The Werewolf<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ONCE on a time there was a king, who reigned over a great kingdom. He
had a queen, but only a single daughter, a girl. The little girl was
the apple of her parents' eyes; they loved her above everything else in
the world, and their dearest thought was the pleasure they would take
in her when she was older. But before the king's daughter began to grow
up, the queen her mother fell ill and died. It is not hard to imagine
the grief that reigned, not alone in the royal castle, but throughout
the land; for the queen had been loved of all. The king grieved so that
he would not marry again, and his one joy was the little princess.<br />
<div class="i">
A
long time passed, and with each succeeding day the king's daughter
grew taller and more beautiful, and her father granted her every wish.
Now there were a number of women who had nothing to do but wait on the
princess and carry out her commands. Among them was a woman who had
formerly married and had two daughters. She had an engaging appearance, a
smooth tongue and a winning way of talking, and she was as soft and
pliable as silk. But at heart she was full of machinations and
falseness. Now when the queen died, she at once began to plan how she
might marry the king, so that her daughters might be kept like royal
princesses. With this end in view, she drew the young princess to her,
paid her the most fulsome compliments on everything she said and did,
and was forever bringing the conversation around to how happy she would
be were the king to take another wife. There was much said on this
head, early and late, and before very long the princess came to believe
that the woman knew all there was to know about everything. So she
asked her what sort of a woman the king ought to choose for a wife.</div>
<div class="i">
The
woman answered as sweet as honey, "It is not my affair to give advice
in this matter; yet he should choose for queen someone who is kind to
the little princess. For one thing I know, and that is, were I
fortunate enough to be chosen, my one thought would be to do all I could
for the little princess, and if she wished to wash her hands, one of
my daughters would have to hold the wash-bowl and the other hand her
the towel."</div>
<div class="i">
This and much more she told the king's daughter, and the princess believed it, as children will.</div>
<div class="i">
From
that day forward the princess gave her father no peace, and begged him
again and again to marry the good court lady. Yet he did not want to
marry her. But the king's daughter gave him no rest; but urged him
again and again, as the false court lady had persuaded her to do.</div>
<div class="i">
Finally,
one day, when she again brought up the matter, the king cried, "I can
see you will end by having your own way about this, even though it be
entirely against my will. But I will do so only on one condition."</div>
<div class="i">
"What is the condition?" asked the princess.</div>
<div class="i">
"If
I marry again," said the king, "it is only because of your ceaseless
pleading. Therefore you must promise that, if in the future you are not
satisfied with your stepmother or your stepsisters, not a single
lament or complaint on your part reaches my ears."</div>
<div class="i">
This she promised the king, and it was agreed that he should marry the court lady and make her queen of the whole country.</div>
<div class="i">
As
time passed on, the king's daughter had grown to be the most beautiful
maiden to be found far and wide; the queen's daughters, on the other
hand, were homely, evil of disposition, and no one knew any good of
them. Hence it was not surprising that many youths came from East and
West to sue for the princess's hand; but that none of them took any
interest in the queen's daughters. This made the stepmother very angry;
but she hid her rage, and was as sweet and friendly as ever.</div>
<div class="i">
Among
the wooers was a king's son from another country. He was young and
brave, and since he loved the princess dearly, she accepted his
proposal and they plighted their troth. The queen observed this with an
angry eye, for it would have pleased her had the prince chosen one of
her own daughters. She therefore made up her mind that the young pair
should never be happy together, and from that time on thought only of
how she might part them from each other.</div>
<div class="i">
An opportunity
soon came. News came that the enemy had entered the land, and the king
was compelled to go to war. Now the princess began to find out what
kind of stepmother she had. For no sooner had the king departed than
the queen became just as harsh and unkind as she formerly had pretended
to be friendly and obliging. Not a day went by without her scolding
and threatening the princess; and the queen's daughters were every bit
as malicious as their mother.</div>
<div class="i">
But the king's son, the
lover of the princess, found himself in even worse position. He had
gone hunting one day, had lost his way, and could not find his people.
Then the queen used her black arts and turned him into a werewolf, to
wander through the forest for the remainder of his life in that shape.
When evening came and there was no sign of the prince, his people
returned home, and one can imagine what sorrow they caused when the
princess learned how the hunt had ended. She grieved, wept day and
night, and was not to be consoled. But the queen laughed at her grief,
and her heart was filled with joy to think that all had turned out
exactly as she wished.</div>
<div class="i">
Now it chanced one day, as the
king's daughter was sitting alone in her room, that she thought she
would go herself into the forest where the prince had disappeared. She
went to her stepmother and begged permission to go out into the forest
to forget her grief. The queen did not want to grant her request, for
she always preferred saying no to yes. But the princess begged her so
winningly that at last she was unable to say no, and she ordered one of
her daughters to go along with her and watch her. That caused a great
deal of discussion, for neither of the stepdaughters wanted to go with
her; each made all sorts of excuses, and asked what pleasures were
there in going with the king's daughter, who did nothing but cry. But
the queen had the last word in the end, and ordered that one of her
daughters must accompany the princess, even though it be against her
will.</div>
<div class="i">
So the girls wandered out of the castle into the
forest. The king's daughter walked among the trees and listened to the
song of the birds, and thought of her lover that she longed for, and
who was now no longer there. And the queen's daughter followed her,
vexed, in her malice, with the king's daughter and her sorrow.</div>
<div class="i">
After
they had walked a while, they came to a little hut, lying deep in the
dark forest. By then the king's daughter was very thirsty, and wanted
to go into the little hut with her stepsister, in order to get a drink
of water.</div>
<div class="i">
But the queen's daughter was much annoyed and
said, "Is it not enough for me to be running around here in the
wilderness with you? Now you even want me, who am a princess, to enter
that wretched little hut. No, I will not step a foot over the
threshold! If you want to go in, why go in alone!"</div>
<div class="i">
The
king's daughter lost no time; but did as her stepsister advised, and
stepped into the little hut. When she entered she saw an old woman
sitting there on a bench, so enfeebled by age that her head shook. The
princess spoke to her in her usual friendly way, "Good evening,
motherkin. May I ask you for a drink of water?"</div>
<div class="i">
"You are
heartily welcome to it," said the old woman. "Who may you be, who step
beneath my lowly roof and greet me in so winning a way?"</div>
<div class="i">
The king's daughter told her who she was, and that she had gone out to relieve her heart, in order to forget her great grief.</div>
<div class="i">
"And what may your great grief be!" asked the old woman.</div>
<div class="i">
" I have lost my only love," said the princess, "and God knows whether I shall ever see him again."</div>
<div class="i">
And she also told her why it was, and the tears ran down her cheeks in streams, so that anyone would have felt sorry for her.</div>
<div class="i">
When
she had ended the old woman said, "You did well in confiding your
sorrow to me. I have lived long and may be able to give you a bit of
good advice. When you leave here, you will see a lily growing from the
ground. This lily is not like other lilies, however, but has many
strange virtues. Run quickly over to it, and pick it. If you can do
that, you need not worry, for then someone will appear who will tell you
what to do."</div>
<div class="i">
Then they parted and the king's daughter
thanked her and went her way, while the old woman sat on the bench and
wagged her head. But the queen's daughter had been standing without the
hut the entire time, vexing herself, and grumbling because the king's
daughter had taken so long.</div>
<div class="i">
So when the lovely king's
daughter stepped out, she had to listen to all sorts of abuse from her
stepsister. Yet she paid no attention to her, and thought only of how
she might find the flower of which the old woman had spoken. They went
through the forest, and suddenly she saw a beautiful white lily growing
in their very path. She was much pleased and ran up at once to pick
it; but that very moment it disappeared and reappeared somewhat further
away.</div>
<div class="i">
The king's daughter was now filled with
eagerness, no longer listened to her stepsister's calls, and kept right
on running; yet each time when she stooped to pick the lily, it
suddenly disappeared and reappeared somewhat further away. Thus it went
for some time, and the princess was drawn further and further into the
deep forest. But the lily continued to stand, and disappear and move
further away, and each time the flower seemed larger and more beautiful
than before.</div>
<div class="i">
At length the princess came to a high
hill, and as she looked toward its summit, there stood the lily high on
the naked rock, glittering as white and radiant as the brightest star.
The king's daughter now began to climb the hill, and in her eagerness
she paid no attention to stones nor steepness. And when at last she
reached the summit of the hill, lo and behold! the lily no longer
evaded her grasp; but remained where it was, and the princess stooped
and picked it and hid it in her bosom, and so heartfelt was her
happiness that she forgot her stepsisters and everything else in the
world.</div>
<div class="i">
For a long time she did not tire of looking at
the beautiful flower. Then she suddenly began to wonder what her
stepmother would say when she came home after having remained out so
long. And she looked around, in order to find the way back to the
castle. But as she looked around, behold, the sun had set and no more
than a little strip of daylight rested on the summit of the hill. Below
her lay the forest, so dark and shadowed that she had no faith in her
ability to find the homeward path. And now she grew very sad, for she
could think of nothing better to do than to spend the night on the
hilltop. She seated herself on the rock, put her hand to her cheek,
cried, and thought of her unkind stepmother and stepsisters, and of all
the harsh words she would have to endure when she returned. And she
thought of her father, the king, who was away at war, and of the love
of her heart, whom she would never see again; and she grieved so
bitterly that she did not even know she wept.</div>
<div class="i">
Night came
and darkness, and the stars rose, and still the princess sat in the
same spot and wept. And while she sat there, lost in her thoughts, she
heard a voice say, "Good evening, lovely maiden! Why do you sit here so
sad and lonely?"</div>
<div class="i">
She stood up hastily, and felt much
embarrassed, which was not surprising. When she looked around there was
nothing to be seen but a tiny old man, who nodded to her and seemed to
be very humble.</div>
<div class="i">
She answered, "I have lost my dearest
love, and now I have lost my way in the forest, and am afraid of being
devoured by wild beasts."</div>
<div class="i">
"You need have no fear as to that," said the old man. "If you will do exactly as I say, I will help you."</div>
<div class="i">
This
made the princess happy; for she felt that all the rest of the world
had abandoned her. Then the old man drew out flint and steel and said,
"Lovely maiden, you must first build a fire."</div>
<div class="i">
She did as
he told her, gathered moss, brush and dry sticks, struck sparks and
lit such a fire on the hilltop that the flame blazed up to the skies.</div>
<div class="i">
That done the old man said, "Go on a bit and you will find a kettle of tar, and bring the kettle to me."</div>
<div class="i">
This the king's daughter did.</div>
<div class="i">
The old man continued, "Now put the kettle on the fire."</div>
<div class="i">
And the princess did that as well. When the tar began to boil, the old man said, "Now throw your white lily into the kettle."</div>
<div class="i">
The
princess thought this a harsh command, and earnestly begged to be
allowed to keep the lily. But the old man said, "Did you not promise to
obey my every command? Do as I tell you or you will regret it."</div>
<div class="i">
The
king's daughter turned away her eyes, and threw the beautiful lily
into the boiling tar. The moment she did so a hollow roar, like that of
some wild beast, sounded from the forest. It came nearer, and turned
into such a terrible howling that all the surrounding hills re-echoed
it. Finally there was a cracking and breaking among the trees, the
bushes were thrust aside, and the princess saw a great grey wolf come
running out of the forest and straight up the hill. She was much
frightened and would gladly have run away had she been able to. But the
old man said, "Make haste, run to the edge of the hill and the moment
the wolf comes along, upset the kettle on him!"</div>
<div class="i">
The
princess was terrified, and hardly knew what she was about; yet she did
as the old man said, took the kettle, ran to the edge of the hill, and
poured its contents over the wolf just as he was about to run up. And
then a strange thing happened: no sooner had she done so, than the wolf
was transformed, cast off his thick grey pelt, and in place of the
horrible wild beast there stood a handsome young man, looking up to the
hill. And when the king's daughter gathered herself and looked at him,
she saw that it was really and truly her lover, who had been turned
into a werewolf.</div>
<div class="i">
The princess opened her arms and could
neither ask questions nor reply to them, so moved and delighted was
she. But the prince ran hastily up the hill, embraced her tenderly, and
thanked her for delivering him. Nor did he forget the little old man,
but thanked him with many civil expressions for his powerful aid. Then
they sat down together on the hilltop and had a pleasant talk. The
prince told how he had been turned into a wolf, and of all he had
suffered while running about in the forest; and the princess told of
her grief and the many tears she had shed while he had been gone. So
they sat the whole night through, and never noticed it until the stars
grew pale and it was light enough to see. When the sun rose, they saw
that a broad path led from the hilltop straight to the royal castle;
for they had a view of the whole surrounding country from the hilltop.</div>
<div class="i">
Then the old man said, "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything in that direction?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes," said the princess, "I see a horseman on a foaming horse, riding as fast as he can."</div>
<div class="i">
Then
the old man said, "He is a messenger sent on ahead by the king your
father. And your father with all his army is following him."</div>
<div class="i">
That
pleased the princess immensely, and she wanted to descend the hill at
once to meet her father. But the old man detained her and said, "Wait a
while, it is too early yet. Let us wait and see how everything turns
out."</div>
<div class="i">
Time passed and the sun was shining brightly, and
its rays fell straight on the royal castle down below. Then the old man
said, "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes,"
answered the princess, "I see a number of people coming out of my
father's castle, and some are going along the road, and others into the
forest."</div>
<div class="i">
The old man said, "Those are your stepmother's
servants. She has sent some to meet the king and welcome him; but she
has sent others to the forest to look for you."</div>
<div class="i">
At
these words the princess grew uneasy, and wished to go down to the
queen's servants. But the old man withheld her and said, "Wait a while,
and let us first see how everything turns out."</div>
<div class="i">
More
time passed, and the king's daughter was still looking down the road
from which the king would appear, when the old man said, "Lovely
maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes," answered the princess, "there is a great commotion in my father's castle, and they are hanging it with black."</div>
<div class="i">
The old man said, "That is the work of your stepmother and her people. They will assure your father that you are dead."</div>
<div class="i">
Then
the king's daughter felt bitter anguish, and she implored from the
depths of her heart, "Let me go, let me go, so that I may spare my
father this anguish!"</div>
<div class="i">
But the old man detained her and said, "No, wait, it is still too early. Let us first see how everything turns out."</div>
<div class="i">
Again
time passed, the sun lay high above the fields, and the warm air blew
over meadow and forest. The royal maid and youth still sat on the
hill-top with the old man, where we had left them. Then they saw a
little cloud rise against the horizon, far away in the distance, and the
little cloud grew larger and larger, and came nearer and nearer along
the road, and as it moved one could see it was agleam with weapons, and
nodding helmets, and waving flags, one could hear the rattle of
swords, and the neighing of horses, and finally recognize the banner of
the king. It is not hard to imagine how pleased the king's daughter
was, and how she insisted on going down and greeting her father. But
the old man held her back and said, "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you
see anything happening at the castle?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes," answered
the princess, "I can see my stepmother and stepsisters coming out,
dressed in mourning, holding white kerchiefs to their faces, and
weeping bitterly."</div>
<div class="i">
The old man answered, "Now they are
pretending to weep because of your death. Wait just a little while
longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn out."</div>
<div class="i">
After a time the old man said again, "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down below?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes,"
said the princess, "I see people bringing a black coffin, and now my
father is having it opened. Look, the queen and her daughters are down
on their knees, and my father is threatening them with his sword!"</div>
<div class="i">
Then the old man said, "Your father wished to see your body, and so your evil stepmother had to confess the truth."</div>
<div class="i">
When the princess heard that she said earnestly, "Let me go, let me go, so that I may comfort my father in his great sorrow!</div>
<div class="i">
But
the old man held her back and said, "Take my advice and stay here a
little while longer. We have not yet seen how everything will turn
out."</div>
<div class="i">
Again time went by, and the king's daughter and
the prince and the old man were still sitting on the hill-top. Then the
old man said, "Lovely maiden, turn around! Do you see anything down
below?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Yes," answered the princess, "I see my father and my stepsisters and my stepmother with all their following moving this way."</div>
<div class="i">
The old man said, "Now they have started out to look for you. Go down and bring up the wolf's pelt in the gorge."</div>
<div class="i">
The king's daughter did as he told her. The old man continued, "Now stand at the edge of the hill."</div>
<div class="i">
And
the princess did that, too. Now one could see the queen and her
daughters coming along the way, and stopping just below the hill. Then
the old man said, "Now throw down the wolf's pelt!"</div>
<div class="i">
The
princess did as he told her, and threw down the wolf's pelt as he
commanded. It fell directly on the evil queen and her daughters. No
sooner had the pelt touched the three evil women than they at once
changed shape, and turning into three horrible werewolves, they ran away
as fast as they could into the forest, howling dreadfully.</div>
<div class="i">
No
more had this happened than the king himself arrived at the foot of
the hill with his whole retinue. When he looked up and recognised the
princess, he could not at first believe his eyes; but stood motionless,
thinking her a vision. Then the old man cried, "Lovely maiden, now
hasten, run down and make your father happy!"</div>
<div class="i">
There was
no need to tell the princess twice. She took her lover by the hand and
they ran down the hill. When they came to the king, the princess ran on
ahead, fell on her father's neck, and wept with joy. And the young
prince wept as well, and the king himself wept; and their meeting was a
pleasant sight for everyone. There was great joy and many embraces,
and the princess told of her evil stepmother and stepsisters and of her
lover, and all that she had suffered, and of the old man who had
helped them in such a wonderful way. But when the king turned around to
thank the old man he had completely vanished, and from that day on no
one could say who he had been or what had become of him.</div>
<div class="i">
The
king and his whole retinue now returned to the castle, where the king
had a splendid banquet prepared, to which he invited all the able and
distinguished people throughout the kingdom, and bestowed his daughter
on the young prince.</div>
<div class="i">
The wedding was celebrated with
gladness and music and amusements of every kind for many days. I was
there, too, and when I rode through the forest I met a wolf with two
young wolves. It was the stepmother and her two daughters. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-65363622392961565532012-04-24T17:49:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:49:45.152+03:00Norwegian: The Boy Who Went to the North Wind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
ONCE upon a time there was an old widow who had one son; and as she
was poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal
for cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down
the steps, there came the North Wind puffing and blowing, caught up the
meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the boy went back into
the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the
North Wind didn't come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and
more than that, he did so the third time. At this the boy got very
angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so,
he thought he'd just look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.<br />
<div class="i">
So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at last he came to the North Wind's house.</div>
<div class="i">
"Good day!" said the boy, and "thank you for coming to see us yesterday."</div>
<div class="i">
"GOOD DAY!" answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, "AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?"</div>
<div class="i">
"Oh!"
answered the boy, "I only wished to ask you to be so good as to let me
have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we haven't
much to live on; and if you're to go on snapping up the morsel we have
there'll be nothing for it but to starve." </div>
<div class="i">
"I haven't
got your meal," said the North Wind; "but if you are in such need, I'll
give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if you only
say, "Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes!""</div>
<div class="i">
With
this the boy was well content. But, as the way was so long he couldn't
get home in one day, so he turned into an inn on the way; and when
they were going to sit down to supper, he laid the cloth on a table
which stood in the corner and said,</div>
<div class="i">
"Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes."</div>
<div class="i">
He
had hardly said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who
stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So, when
all were fast asleep, at dead of night, she took the boy's cloth, and
put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the North
Wind, but which couldn't so much as serve up a bit of dry bread.</div>
<div class="i">
So, when the boy woke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that day he got home to his mother.</div>
<div class="i">
"Now,"
said he, "I've been to the North Wind's house, and a good fellow he
is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, "Cloth,
spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes," I get any sort
of food I please."</div>
<div class="i">
"All very true, my darling, "said his mother; "but seeing is believing, and I can't believe it till I see it."</div>
<div class="i">
So the boy made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and said,</div>
<div class="i">
"Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes."</div>
<div class="i">
But never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.</div>
<div class="i">
"Well," said the boy, "there's no help for it but to go to the North Wind again; "and away he went.</div>
<div class="i">
So he came to where the North Wind lived late in the afternoon.</div>
<div class="i">
"Good evening!" said the boy.</div>
<div class="i">
"Good evening!" said the North Wind.</div>
<div class="i">
"I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took," said the boy; "for as for that cloth I got, it isn't worth a penny."</div>
<div class="i">
"I've
got no meal," said the North Wind; "but yonder you have a ram which
coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it -</div>
<div class="i">
"Ram, ram, make money!"</div>
<div class="i">
So
the boy thought this a fine thing; but as it was too far to get home
that day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept
before.</div>
<div class="i">
Before he called for anything, he tried the
truth of what the North Wind had said of the ram, and found it all
right; but when the landlord saw that, he thought it was a famous ram,
and, when the boy had fallen asleep, he took another which couldn't
coin gold ducats, and changed the two.</div>
<div class="i">
Next morning off went the boy; and when he got home to his mother, he said,</div>
<div class="i">
"After
all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given me a ram
which can coin golden ducats if T only say, " Ram, ram! make money! ""</div>
<div class="i">
"All very true, I dare say," said his mother; "but I shan't believe any such stuff until I see the ducats made."</div>
<div class="i">
"Ram, ram! make money!" said the boy; but if the ram made anything it wasn't money.</div>
<div class="i">
So
the boy went back again to the North Wind, and blew him up, and said
the ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.</div>
<div class="i">
"Well,"
said the North Wind; "I've nothing else to give you but that old stick
in the corner yonder; but it's a stick of that kind that if you say -</div>
<div class="i">
"Stick, stick, lay on!" it lays on till you say -</div>
<div class="i">
"Stick, stick, now stop.""</div>
<div class="i">
So,
as the way was long, the boy turned in this night too to the landlord;
but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the cloth and
the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore, as if he
were asleep.</div>
<div class="i">
Now the landlord, who easily saw that the
stick must be worth something, hunted up one which was like it, and
when he heard the boy snore, was going to change the two, but just as
the landlord was about to take it the boy bawled out -</div>
<div class="i">
"Stick, stick! lay on!"</div>
<div class="i">
So the stick began to beat the landlord till he jumped over chairs, and tables, and benches, and yelled and roared, </div>
<div class="i">
"Oh my! oh my! bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death, and you shall have back both your cloth and your ram."</div>
<div class="i">
When the boy thought the landlord had got enough, he said -</div>
<div class="i">
"Stick, stick! now stop!"</div>
<div class="i">
Then
he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with his
stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and so he
got his rights for the meal he had lost. </div>
</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-75073433380847236042012-04-24T17:48:00.004+03:002012-04-24T17:48:59.528+03:00The Snow Queen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica;">You must attend to the commencement of
this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we do
now about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the very worst, for he
was a real demon.<br /><br /> One day, when he was in a merry mood, he
made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or
beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while
everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and
worse than ever.<br /><br /> The most lovely landscapes appeared like
boiled spinach, and the people became hideous, and looked as if they
stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so
distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the
face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The
demon said this was very amusing. When a good or pious thought passed
through the mind of any one it was misrepresented in the glass; and
then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention.<br /><br /> All who
went to the demon's school for he kept a school talked everywhere of
the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the
first time, see what the world and mankind were really like. They
carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land
nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror.<br /><br />
They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but
the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they
could scarcely hold it, till at last it slipped from their hands, fell
to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces. But now the
looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the
fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the
world into every country. When one of these tiny atoms flew into a
person's eye, it stuck there unknown to him, and from that moment he
saw everything through a distorted medium, or could see only the worst
side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the
same power which had belonged to the whole mirror.<br /><br /> Some few
persons even got a fragment of the looking-glass in their hearts, and
this was very terrible, for their hearts became cold like a lump of
ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as
window-panes; it would have been a sad thing to look at our friends
through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles; this was dreadful
for those who wore them, for they could see nothing either rightly or
justly.<br /><br /> At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides
shook, it tickled him so to see the mischief he had done. There were
still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the
air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them.</span></div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-59680732146452692322012-04-24T17:48:00.000+03:002012-04-24T17:48:06.129+03:00The Mouse, the Frog, and the Hawk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe4sX6cp92WyhgNDREirOq6sSyer69KqxUEhgkN_nhFZzlq1-HO1d2jfRgr-51IlxZr-eX8bZCnrw8zQAx_TM_Ea6ydjjIZacYwINp0ZC-PWpLQELX67viwuqwCRid4wqn0wFvG3rpzD5/s1600/frog.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551215058090300050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe4sX6cp92WyhgNDREirOq6sSyer69KqxUEhgkN_nhFZzlq1-HO1d2jfRgr-51IlxZr-eX8bZCnrw8zQAx_TM_Ea6ydjjIZacYwINp0ZC-PWpLQELX67viwuqwCRid4wqn0wFvG3rpzD5/s320/frog.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica;">A
Mouse who always lived on the land, by an unlucky chance formed an
intimate acquaintance with a Frog, who lived for the most part in the
water. The Frog, one day intent on mischief, bound the foot of the Mouse
tightly to his own. Thus joined together, the Frog first of all led
his friend the Mouse to the meadow where they were accustomed to find
their food. After this, he gradually led him towards the pool in which
he lived, until reaching the very brink, he suddenly jumped in,
dragging the<br />Mouse with him. The Frog enjoyed the water amazingly,
and swam croaking about, as if he had done a good deed. The unhappy
Mouse was soon suffocated by the water, and his dead body floated about
on the surface, tied to the foot of the Frog. A Hawk observed it, and,
pouncing upon it with his talons, carried it aloft. The Frog, being
still fastened to the leg of the Mouse, was also carried off a
prisoner, and was eaten by the Hawk.</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica;">Harm hatch, harm catch.</span></div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-74272237535424834742012-04-24T17:47:00.001+03:002012-04-24T17:47:22.308+03:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.worldlingo.com/ma/enwiki/es/Ivan_Tsarevich" title="Ivan Tsarevich">Príncipe Ivan</a>
tenía tres hermanas: Princesa Marya, princesa Olga, y princesa Ana.
Cuando sus padres morían, le dijeron casar de sus hermanas con sus
primeros wooers, y no guardarlos de él. Tan cuando un halcón <a href="http://www.worldlingo.com/ma/enwiki/es/Shapeshifting" title="Shapeshifting">transformado</a>
en un hombre para cortejar Marya, y ella consintió, él convino la
unión; y entonces Olga a un águila que transforma, y Ana a a raven.<br />
Príncipe
Ivan creció solo y fue a visitar a sus hermanas, salvo que en la
manera, él encontró a ejército matado por la princesa Marya Morevna, y
la satisfizo. Cayeron en amor y fueron a su reino, pero ella se apagó
guerrear y prohibirlo entrar cierto armario. Él entró y encontró <a href="http://www.worldlingo.com/ma/enwiki/es/Koschei" title="Koschei">Koschei</a>
el inmortal allí, que pidió agua. Príncipe Ivan le dio tres
bucketfuls, y Koschei rompió las cadenas y juró que Ivan nunca vería
Marya Morevna otra vez.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvSWGd6P6DhMCCX916g3VAxxyc-Uevds_qsQFj7q0uZFPH9UWDNb1D8p_u-zFC7ZpufaXpCp8o8dxbJ8vX5ilBCr0W62GHs3FbAfBtdrmEMf4i7XahU-QDwhvhZGk_gEMP3Q8qxVWWCLx/s1600/20071123115315%2521Viktor_Vasnetsov_Kashchey_the_Immortal.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551212854038043922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvSWGd6P6DhMCCX916g3VAxxyc-Uevds_qsQFj7q0uZFPH9UWDNb1D8p_u-zFC7ZpufaXpCp8o8dxbJ8vX5ilBCr0W62GHs3FbAfBtdrmEMf4i7XahU-QDwhvhZGk_gEMP3Q8qxVWWCLx/s320/20071123115315%2521Viktor_Vasnetsov_Kashchey_the_Immortal.jpg" style="display: block; height: 258px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Ivan precisó después de ella. Él encontró
el castillo del halcón, que pidió que él dejara su cuchara de plata
para ellos para recordarlo cerca; entonces el del águila, que pidió que
él dejara su bifurcación de plata; entonces el del Raven, que pidió
que él dejara su tabaquera de plata. Entonces él encontró el castillo
donde estaba Marya Morevna. Cuatro veces, él intentó huir con ella,
pero Koschei lo cogió cada uno; los primeros tres tiempos, porque cada
cubo de príncipe Ivan del agua lo había dado, él lo dejó ir, solamente
el cuarto, él tajó a príncipe Ivan a los pedazos y lo lanzó, sellado en
un barril, en el mar. En los castillos, las cosas de plata crecieron
deslustradas, y sus cuñados vinieron para él. El águila encontró el
barril, el halcón trajo al agua de la vida, y a Raven el agua de la
muerte. Pusieron ensamblan, y el agua de la muerte lo reató y el agua
de la vida lo restauró.<br />
Príncipe Ivan encontró Marya Morevna otra
vez, y preguntado le para descubrir cómo Koschei encontró el caballo
que él había montado encendido para cogerlos. Koschei le dice que él lo
consiguiera mirando <a href="http://www.worldlingo.com/ma/enwiki/es/Baba_Yaga" title="Bizcocho borracho Yaga">Bizcocho borracho Yaga</a>'caballos de s para <a href="http://www.worldlingo.com/ma/enwiki/es/Rule_of_three_%28writing%29" title="Regla de tres (escritura)">tres</a>
días. Marya Morevna robó el pañuelo que él conseguía a la casa de Yaga
del bizcocho borracho y lo dio a príncipe Ivan. Agitarlo tres veces
sobre el río ardiente produjo un puente. En la manera, él decidía comer
el polluelo de un pájaro salvaje, un pedazo del panal, y un cub del
león, pero se refrenó cada vez que el pájaro salvaje, las abejas, y la
leona abogada por con él y prometida para hacer vuelta.<br />
En el
bizcocho borracho Yaga, ella lo tomó en su servicio, pero sus caballos
huyeron la mañana próxima sobre los prados. El pájaro salvaje subió a
él por la tarde, y lo envió a su casa. El bizcocho borracho Yaga reganó
sus caballos, que contestaron a que los pájaros vinieron picotear sus
ojos hacia fuera cuando intentaron huir. Ella les dijo intentar el
bosque el día siguiente. Huyeron la mañana próxima, pero por la tarde,
el príncipe dicho leona Ivan a ir detrás, y las yeguas estaban detrás.
El bizcocho borracho Yaga dijo las yeguas intentar el mar el día
siguiente, pero las abejas picadas les hasta que tuvieron que volverse.<br />
En
la noche, príncipe Ivan se levantó y robó un potro apesadumbrado del
establo. Él montó al río ardiente y agitó el pañuelo tres veces para un
puente. Cuando él había montado encima, él lo agitó dos veces, que
guardaron un puente, solamente una tan delgadamente que cuando el
bizcocho borracho Yaga lo cruzó para perseguirlo, ella se cayó y murió.<br />
Él
volvió a Marya Morevna, y huyeron. Koschei persiguió después de ellos,
pero cuando él los cogió, el caballo machacó su cabeza adentro, y se
quemaron el cuerpo. Las hermanas y los cuñados de Ivan rejoiced sobre
su novia, y llevaron a cabo un banquete de la boda antes de volver a
sus propios países.<br />
<br /></div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220936443874565633.post-7383083558546166092012-04-24T17:46:00.002+03:002012-04-24T17:46:25.868+03:00En Patufet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hi havia una vegada un pobre camperol que estava una nit al costat de
la xemeneia atiant el foc, mentre la seva dona filava, asseguda al seu
costat. L' home va dir:<br />
<br />
- Que trist és no tenir fills! Quin silenci hi ha en aquesta casa, mentre que a les altres tot és soroll i alegria!<br />
<br />
-
Sí - va respondre la dona, sospirant - encara que en fos un de sol, i
encara que fos petit com un polze, em donaria per satisfeta. L'
estimarem més que la nostra vida.<br />
<br />
I va succeir que la
dona va sentir-se indisposada, i al cap de set mesos va portar al món un
nen que, si bé estava perfectament format en tots els seus membres, no
era més llarg que el polze. I els pares van dir:<br />
<br />
-És tal com l' havíem desitjat, i l' estimarem amb tota l' ànima.<br />
<br />
Considerant
la seva mida, li varen posar el nom de Patufet. L' alimentaven tan bé
com podien, però el nen no creixia, si no que seguia tan petit com al
principi. De totes maneres, la seva mirada era viva i espavilada, i ben
aviat va demostrar ser tan llest com el que més, i molt capaç de
sortir-se 'n amb la seva en qualsevol cosa que fes.<br />
<br />
Un dia en que el seu pare llenyataire es disposava a anar al bosc a buscar llenya, va dir per a ell mateix, parlant a mitja veu:<br />
<br />
- Pare! - va exclamar en Patufet - jo et portaré el carro, pots estar tranquil, a l' hora convinguda serà al bosc.<br />
<br />
I L' home es va posar a riure, dient:<br />
<br />
- Com t' ho faràs? No veus que ets massa petit per a fer anar les regnes?<br />
<br />
- No importa, pare, Només cal que la mare enganxi el cavall, jo em posaré a l' orella i el conduiré fins on tu vulguis.<br />
<br />
Quan
va arribar l' hora pactada, la mare va enganxar el cavall i va posar en
Patufet a la seva orella; i així anava el petit donant ordres a l'
animal: . Tot va anar molt bé, com si el petit hagués estat un carreter
consumat, i el carro va agafar el camí del bosc. Però vet aquí que, quan
girava per un revolt,i el noiet va cridar : , justament passaven dos
forasters.<br />
<br />
- Òndia! - va exclamar un - Què és això? Allà va un carro, el carreter crida al cavall, i tot i això, no se 'l veu per enlloc!.<br />
<br />
- Aquí hi ha algun misteri! - va confirmar l' altre- Seguim el carro i mirem on va.<br />
<br />
Però
el carro va entrar al bosc, dirigint-se en línia recta al lloc en el
que el pare estava tallant llenya. Al veure 'l en Patufet va cridar:<br />
<br />
- Pare, sóc aquí, amb el carro, baixa 'm a terra!<br />
<br />
L'
home va agafar el cavall amb la mà esquerra, mentre amb la dreta treia
de l' orella del cavall el seu fillet, que es va asseure sobre un bri d'
herba. En veure els dos forasters en Patufet es van quedar muts de
sorpresa, fins que, al final, portant un apart a l' altre-, li va dir:<br />
<br />
-
Escolta, aquesta menudesa podria ser la nostra fortuna si l' exhibíssim
de ciutat en ciutat. Comprem-lo. - I dirigint-se al llenyataire, li van
dir - Ven-nos aquest homenet, ho passarà bé amb nosaltres.<br />
<br />
- No! -va respondre el pare- és la nineta dels meus ulls, i no el donaria per tot l' or del món.<br />
<br />
Però
en Patufet, que havia sentit la proposició, va agafar-se a un plec dels
pantalons del seu pare, va pujar fins la seva espatlla i li va murmurar
a l' oïda:<br />
<br />
- Pare, deixa 'm que me 'n vagi, ja tornaré.<br />
<br />
Llavors el llenyataire el va cedir als dos homes per una bonica peça d' or.<br />
<br />
- On vols seure? - li van preguntar els dos homes a en Patufet<br />
<br />
- Poseu-me a l' ala del vostre barret; podré passejar-me per ella i contemplar el paisatge: ja aniré amb compte de no caure.<br />
<br />
Van
fer el que els demanava i, una vegada en Patufet es va acomiadar del
seu pare, els forasters van partir amb ell i cavalcaren fins al
capvespre.<br />
<br />
Separador<br />
<br />
Al cap d'una estona va dir:<br />
<br />
- Deixeu-me baixar, ho necessito.<br />
<br />
-
Bah! no et moguis - li va replicar L' home en el barret del qual
viatjava el petit - No m' enfadaré; també els ocells deixen anar alguna
cosa de tant en tant.<br />
<br />
- No, no - va protestar en Patufet- jo sóc un noi ben educat; baixeu-me, de pressa!<br />
<br />
L'
home es va treure el barret i el va deixar al petitó en un camp que s'
estenia a la vora del camí. En Patufet va fer uns quants bots i es va
amagar en una llodriguera que havia estat buscant.<br />
<br />
-
Bona nit senyors, podeu seguir sense mi! - els va cridar des del seu
refugi, en to de burla. Van accedir ells al forat i hi van estar furgant
amb pals, però en va; En Patufet es ficava cada vegada més endins; i
com que la nit no va trigar a arribar, van haver d' emprendre de nou el
seu camí enfadats i amb les bosses buides.<br />
<br />
Separador<br />
<br />
Quan
en Patufet va estar segur que havien marxat, va sortir del seu
amagatall . Per fortuna va topar amb una closca de cargol buida: i es va
ficar en ella.<br />
<br />
Poca estona després, quan estava ja apunt de dormir-se, va sentir que passaven dos homes i que un d'ells deia :<br />
<br />
- Com ens ho farem per fer-nos amb els diners i la plata del capellà?<br />
<br />
- Jo puc dir-t' ho - va cridar en Patufet.<br />
<br />
- Què és això? - va preguntar , espantat, un dels lladres - He sentit parlar a algú.<br />
<br />
Van aturar-se els dos a escoltar, i en Patufet continuà: - Porteu-me amb vosaltres i jo us ajudaré.<br />
<br />
- On estàs?<br />
<br />
- Busqueu pel terra, fixeu-vos d'on ve la veu - va respondre.<br />
<br />
Al final el van descobrir els lladres i el van aixecar enlaire:<br />
<br />
- Infeliç microbi! I tu pretens ajudar-nos?<br />
<br />
-
Mireu - respongué ell - Em ficaré entre els barrots de la reixa, en l'
habitació del capellà, i us passaré tot el que vulgueu endur-vos.<br />
<br />
- Està bé - varen respondre els lladres - veurem com et portes.<br />
<br />
Al
arribar a la casa del mossèn, en Patufet va lliscar fins l'interior de
l' habitació i, ja dins, va cridar amb totes les seves forces:<br />
<br />
- Voleu endur-vos tot el que hi ha aquí?<br />
<br />
Els lladres, espantats, van dir<br />
<br />
- Parla baix, no sigui que despertis a algú!<br />
<br />
Però en Patufet, fent com si no els hagués sentit, va repetir tot cridant:<br />
<br />
- Què voleu? Us endureu tot el que hi ha?<br />
<br />
El
va sentir la cuinera, que dormia a l' habitació del costat i,
incorporant-se al llit, va posar-se a escoltar. Els lladres, espantats,
havien començat a córrer. Però al cap d'un tros, van recobrar els ànims i
pensant que aquell diable només volia fer-los una mala passada, van
retrocedir i li van dir:<br />
<br />
- Vinga, no juguis amb nosaltres i passa' ns alguna cosa.<br />
<br />
Llavors en Patufet es va posar a cridar per tercera vegada amb tota la força dels seus pulmons:<br />
<br />
- Us ho donaré tot de seguida; només heu d' estirar els braços!<br />
<br />
La
criada, que seguia escoltant, va sentir amb tota claredat les seves
paraules i, saltant del llit, va precipitar-se a la porta, i els
lladres, en sentir-ho, van tocar el dos més ràpid que volant.<br />
<br />
La
criada, al no veure res sospitós, va sortir a encendre una vela, i en
Patufet va aprofitar la seva absència momentània per anar-se 'n al
paller sense ser vist per ningú. La cuinera, després d' explorar tots
els racons, va tornar-se 'n al llit convençuda de que havia estat
somiant desperta.<br />
<br />
En Patufet va trepar pels talls de
farratge i va acabar per trobar un bon lloc per a dormir. Desitjava
dormir fins que es fes de dia i dirigir-se a trenc d' alba a casa dels
seus pares. Però encara li quedaven per passar moltes aventures.<br />
<br />
Separador<br />
<br />
A
l' alba, la criada va saltar del llit per anar a donar el pinso al
bestiar. Va entrar primer al paller i allà va agafar un feix d' herba,
precisament aquella en la que el pobre Patufet estava dormint, i el seu
son era tant profund, que no se 'n va adonar de res ni es va despertar
fins que es va trobar ja a la boca de la vaca, que l' havia agafat
juntament amb l' herba.<br />
<br />
- Valga 'm Déu! -va exclamar- Com hauré anat a parar a aquest molí?<br />
<br />
Però
aviat va comprendre on havia anat a parar. Va haver de vigilar per no
caure entre les dents i quedar fet xixina. I després va lliscar amb l'
herba. fins a l'estómac.<br />
<br />
- En aquesta habitació s'han oblidat de les finestres, va dir. Aquí el sol no entra, ni encenen una trista llum.<br />
<br />
El
lloc no li agradava gens i el pitjor era que, com que cada vegada
entrava més farratge per la porta, l'espai es reduïa contínuament. Al
final, tot espantat, va començar a cridar amb totes les seves forces:<br />
<br />
- Prou farratge! prou farratge!<br />
<br />
La
criada, que estava munyint la vaca, a l' escoltar parlar sense veure a
ningú i observant que era la mateixa veu que la nit anterior, va
espantar-se tant que va caure del seu tamboret i se li va caure tota la
llet. Va córrer cap al capellà i li va dir tota esvalotada:<br />
<br />
- Senyor mossèn, la vaca ha parlat!<br />
<br />
-
Estàs boja? - va respondre el mossèn, però, amb tot, va baixar a l'
estable a veure què passava. Amb prou feines havia arribat, en Patufet
va tornar a cridar:<br />
<br />
- Prou farratge! prou farratge!<br />
<br />
El
capellà va es va quedar atònit, pensant que algun mal esperit s' havia
introduït a la vaca, i va donar l'ordre que la matessin. Així ho van
fer: però de l'estómac, en el que es trobava tancat en Patufet, va ser
llançat al femer. Allà va tractar d' obrir-se pas fins a l' exterior, i
tot i que li va costar molt, per fi va poder arribar a l'entrada. Anava a
treure el cap quan li va passar una nova desgracia, en forma de llop
afamat que va empassar-se l'estómac d'una mossegada.<br />
<br />
Separador<br />
<br />
Però en Patufet no es va desanimar. va pensar, i des de la seva panxa, li va dir:<br />
<br />
- Amic llop, sé d'un lloc on podràs menjar a gust.<br />
<br />
- On està? . va preguntar el llop.<br />
<br />
-
En aquesta casa. Hauràs d' entrar per la claveguera i hi travaràs tota
classe de pastissets i embotits per poder-te afartar.- I li va donar les
referències de la casa dels seus pares.<br />
<br />
El llop no s'
ho va fer repetir; va deixar-se anar per la claveguera i, entrant al
rebost, es va inflar fins que no va poder més. Ja fart, va voler anar-se
'n, però s' havia inflat a menjar de tal manera, que no podia sortir
pel mateix camí. Amb això ja hi havia comptat en Patufet, el quan,
dintre del ventre del llop, va començar a cridar i a esvalotar amb tot
el vigor dels seus pulmons.<br />
<br />
- Calla! - li deia el llop - o despertaràs la gent de la casa!.<br />
<br />
- I què! - va respondre en Patufet - Tu bé que t' has afartat, ara em toca a mi divertir-me - i va tornar a cridar.<br />
<br />
A
la fi, el seu pare i la seva mare es van despertar i van córrer al
rebost, mirant a l'interior per una reixeta. Al veure que dins hi havia
un llop, van anar a buscar, l' home una destral i la dona, una falç.<br />
<br />
-
Quedat tu al darrera - va dir l' home a l' entrar a l' habitació -. Jo
li clavaré una destralada i si no el mato, llavors tu li obres la panxa
amb la falç.<br />
<br />
En Patufet va sentir la veu del seu pare i va cridar:<br />
<br />
- Pare! Pare! estic aquí! a la panxa del llop!<br />
<br />
I va exclamar l' home tot content:<br />
<br />
-
Alabat sia Déu, ha aparegut el nostre fill! - i va manar la dona que
deixés la falç per a no fer mal a en Patufet. Aixecant el braç, va
clavar un cop tal al cap de la fera que aquesta va caure, morta a l'
acte.<br />
<br />
Van anar llavors a buscar un ganivet i estisores i, obrint la panxa de l' animal, van treure d' ella al seu fill.<br />
<br />
- Ai! - va exclamar el seu pare - Quin patiment ens has fet passar!<br />
<br />
- Si pare, he recorregut molt de món! per fi torno a respirar aire pur!<br />
<br />
- I per on va estar?<br />
<br />
-
Ai pare! vaig estar en una llodriguera, a l'estómac d'una vaca i a la
panxa d'un llop, però des d' avui em quedaré amb vosaltres.<br />
<br />
-
I no tornarem a vendre 't per tots els tresors del món - van dir els
pares, acariciant i petonejant al seu estimat Patufet. Li varen donar de
menjar i beure i li varen encarregar vestits nous, doncs els que ell
portava s' havien fet malbé al llarg de les seves aventures.</div>Roger Vila Orriolshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05484379995017763482noreply@blogger.com0