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The mist of the storm…
The mist of the storm covers the sky,
The whirlwinds of snow are spinning;
Now, like a wild beast it calls,
now it cries like a child,
Now about the roof, decrepit,
Suddenly it rustles the thatches,
Now, like a traveler overdue,
to us on the window knocks.
Our ancient hut
is mournful and gloomy.
Why have you, my old lady,
Become silent at the window?
Is it the howl of the tempest
That makes you, my friend, fatigued,
Or are you drowsing under the hum
Of your spindle?
Let's drink good friend
Of my poor youth,
Let's drink away grief; where is the tankard?
It will make our hearts gay.
Intoxicate, me with a song, like a titmouse
Quietly living across the sea;
Intoxicate me with a song, like a girl
Who went for the water in the morning.
The mist of the storm covers the sky,
The whirlwinds of snow are spinning;
Now, like a wild beast, it calls,
Now it cries, like a child.
Let's drink, good friend
Of my poor youth,
Let's drink away grief; where is the tankard?
It will make our hearts gay.
Cold frost and sunshine…
Cold frost and sunshine: day of wonder!
But you, my friend, are still in slumber--
Wake up, my beauty, time belies:
You dormant eyes, I beg you, broaden
Toward the northerly Aurora,
As though a northern star arise!
Recall last night, the snow was whirling,
Across the sky, the haze was twirling,
The moon, as though a pale dye,
Emerged with yellow through faint clouds.
And there you sat, immersed in doubts,
And now, -- just take a look outside:
The snow below the bluish skies,
Like a majestic carpet lies,
And in the light of day it shimmers.
The woods are dusky. Through the frost
The greenish fir-trees are exposed;
And under ice, a river glitters.
The room is lit with amber light.
And bursting, popping in delight
Hot stove still rattles in a fray.
While it is nice to hear its clatter,
Perhaps, we should command to saddle
A fervent mare into the sleight?
And sliding on the morning snow
Dear friend, we'll let our worries go,
And with the zealous mare we'll flee.
We'll visit empty ranges, thence,
The woods, which used to be so dense
And then the shore, so dear to me.
***
I loved you in my heart there is an ember of love
Not wholly faded it may be.
But do not let it hurt you to remember
I would not have you suffer pain for me.
I loved you in a hopeless silent fashion
Racked now by shyness, now by jelaous fear.
I loved you with such pure and tender passion
God grant another loved you so, my dear.
Fairy Tale
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Grimms Fairy Tale
The Elves and the Shoemaker
Based on the story by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm Retold by Lorna Read
Late one night a shoemaker sat cutting his leather with a snip, snip, snap, watched by his wife and watched by his cat. «I'll sew them tomorrow», the shoemaker said.
He went to bed hungry. There was no bread. The cupboard was bare. Nothing there…
In the morning when he opened his eyes, there on the bench was a big surprise.
Someone had stitched the shoes. But who?
The shoemaker blinked and scratched his head. «What teeny, tiny stitches! he said.
«Who could do a thing like that?»
«Not me», miaowed the cat. He sold the shoes for a very good price, and bought mire leather, and meat and rice. They had good supper that night. Then he cut the leather with a snip, snip, snap.
«I'm ever so tired», he said to the cat. «I can't stop yawning. I'll stitch these in the morning». In the morning when he opened his eyes, there on the bench was a bigger surprise. Four pairs of shoes had been stitched in the night!
The shoemaker blinked and scratched his head. «What teeny, tiny stitches!» he said.
«Who could do a thing like that?»
«Not me», miaowed the cat. Customers came to the shop in queues when they heard about the beautiful shoes. They tried them on…
Soon they were all gone! And now with all the money he'd made, the shoemaker went to the market and paid for leather in blue and green and red. He cut the leather with a snip, snip, snap, watched by his wife and watched by his cat. His wife said, «Now we'll see what happens to that!» Next morning when they got of bed, they found shoes in blue and green and red. «Such teeny, tiny stitches!» the shoemaker said. From far away, when they heard the news, people came to the shop in queues.
«What beautiful shoes!» they cried.
«It's hard to choose!»
The shoemaker sat and counted his money. He thought, «Isn't funny! I'm suddenly rich, and I haven't even sewn a stitch!» The shoemaker's wife said, «We have to find whoever it is who's being so kind. Let's watch in your workshop tonight».
So they left a candle burning bright and there they hid in the dead of night. Midnight chimed the door went creak…and three little elves came skippy- skip in, with silver tools in a teeny, tiny tin, but their clothes were threadbare and thin.
Their silver hammers went tip, tip, tap, and they cut and sewed with a snip, snip, snap, and the shoes were made in a flash. When the elves had left, shoemaker's wife said, «I've never seen, in all my life, three little elves, so threadbare- I'll sew them all new clothes to wear!» She sewed a tiny dress and tiny jackets and tiny tartan trousers with pockets- and the shoemaker made tiny, beautiful boots. The very next night, they left the clothes there on the bench in three neat rows. Then they hid themselves to watch for the elves. When the elves found the suits and the tiny boots, they put them on and danced through the door singing, «Shoes we'll make here no more!»
They've never seen another elf. The shoemaker stitches his shoes himself. But every day he's grateful for the dinner on his table. And every night to the window he creeps (for he made a promise that still he keeps.)
«Thank you, elves», he whispers… and then he sleeps.
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