(by Hans Christian Andersen)
NOW I am going to tell a story,” said the Wind.
“Excuse me,” said the Rain, “but now it
is my turn—, you have been howling round the corner as hard as ever you
could, this long time past.”
“Is that your gratitude toward me?” said
the Wind. “I who, in honor of you, turn inside out—yes, even break—all
the umbrellas, when people won’t have anything to do with you.”
“I am going to speak!” said the Sunshine. “Silence!”
And the Sunshine said it with such glory
and majesty, that the long, weary Wind fell prostrate, and the Rain
beat against him, and shook him, and said,—“We won’t stand it! She
always breaks through, that Madam Sunshine; we won’t listen to her. What
she says is not worth hearing.”
But the Sunshine said,—“A beautiful swan
flew over the rolling, tumbling waves of the ocean. Every one of its
feathers shone like gold: one feather drifted down on the great merchant
vessel that, with all sail set, was sailing away. The feather dropped
on the curly light hair of a young man, whose business it was to have a
care for the goods—,supercargo they called him. The bird of Fortune’s
feather touched his forehead, became a pen in his hand, and brought him
such luck, that very soon he became a wealthy merchant,—rich enough to
have bought for himself spurs of gold; rich enough to change a golden
dish into a nobleman’s shield; and I shone on it,” said the Sunshine.
“The swan flew further, away over the
bright green meadow, where the little shepherd-boy, only seven years
old, had lain down in the shadow of the old and only tree there was. The
swan, in its flight, kissed one of the leaves of the tree. The leaf
fell into the boy’s hand, and it was changed to three leaves, to
ten,—yes, to a whole book,—and in it he read about all the wonders of
nature, about his native language, about faith and knowledge. At night
he laid the book under his head, that he might not forget what he had
been reading. The wonderful book led him to the school-bench, and thence
in search of knowledge. I have read his name among the names of learned
men,” said the Sunshine.
“The swan flew into the quiet, lonely
forest, rested awhile on the dark, deep lake, where the water-lilies
grow; where the wild apples are to be found on the shore ; where the
cuckoo and wild pigeon have their homes.
“A poor woman was in the wood, gathering
firewood branches that had fallen down, and dry sticks; she carried
them in a bundle on her back, and in her arms she held her little child.
She saw the golden swan, the bird of Fortune, rise from among the reeds
on the shore. What was that that glittered? A golden egg, quite warm
yet. She laid it in her bosom, and the warmth remained in it. Surely
there was life in the egg! She heard a gentle picking inside of the
shell, but mistook the sound, and thought it was her own heart that she
heard beating.
“At home, in the poor cottage, she took
out the egg; ‘tick, tick,’ it said, as if it had been a valuable gold
watch; but that it was not, only an egg—a real, living egg. The egg
cracked and opened, and a dear little baby-swan, all feathered as with
purest gold, put out its little head; round its neck it had four rings,
and as the poor woman had four boys,—three at home, and the little one
that she had had with her in the lonely wood,—she understood at once
that here was a ring for each boy and just as she thought of that, the
little gold-bt here was a ring for each boy and just as she thought of
that, the little gold-biird took flight She kissed each ring, made each
of the children kiss one of the rings, laid it next to the child’s
heart, then put it on his finger. I saw it all,” said the Sunshine, “and
I saw what followed.
“One of the boys was playing in a ditch,
and took a lump of clay in his hand, turned and twisted and pressed it
between his fingers, till it took shape, and was like Jason, who went in
search of and found the golden fleece.
“The second boy ran out on the meadow,
where the flowers stood,—flowers of all imaginable colors; he gathered a
handful, and squeezed them so tight that all the juice spurted into his
eyes, and some of it wetted the ring. It cribbled and crawled in his
thoughts, and in his hands, and after many a day, and many a year,
people in the great city talked of the great painter.
“The third child held the ring so tight
in his teeth, that it gave forth sound, an echo of the song in the depth
of his heart. Thoughts and feelings rose in beautiful sounds; rose like
singing swans; plunged, like swans, into the deep, deep sea. He became a
great master, a great composer, of whom every country has the right to
say, ‘He was mine!’
“And the fourth little one was—yes, he
was—the ‘ugly duck’ of the family; they said he had the pip, and must
have pepper and butter, like the little sick chickens, and that he got;
but of me he got a warm, sunny kiss,” said the Sunshine. “He got ten
kisses for one; he was a poet, and was buffeted and kissed, alternately,
all his life. But he held what no one could take from him,—the Ring of
Fortune, from Dame Fortune’s golden swan. His thoughts took wings, and
flew up and away, like singing butterflies,—the emblem of immortality!”
“That was a dreadfully long story,” said the Wind.
“And O, how stupid and tiresome !” said the Rain. “Blow on me, please, that I may revive a little.”
And the Wind blew, and the Sunshine
said,—“The swan of Fortune flew over the beautiful bay, where the
fishermen had set their nets; the poorest of them wanted to get married,
and marry he did. To him the swan brought a piece of amber; amber draws
things toward it, and it drew hearts to the house. Amber is the most
wonderful incense, and there came a soft perfume, as from a church;
there came a sweet breath from out of beautiful nature, that God has
made. They were so happy and grateful for their peaceful home, and
content even in their poverty. Their life became a real Sunshine story!”
“I think we had better stop now,” said the Wind, “the Sunshine has talked long enough, and I am dreadfully bored.”
“And I also,” said the Rain.
And what do we others, who have heard the story, say?
We say, “Now my story’s done.”
The Scarlet Sails
Festival (or Crimson Sails Show) is one of the most exiting annual events
celebrated in Saint – Petersburg by graduates during the period of White Nights.
This year it’ll be the 13th time when, as it believed, all the
dreams come true, because the symbol of hope and happiness, ship with scarlet sails
goes down the Neva River. Statistics show that about 3,5 million people came to
the “Scarlet Sails” event in 2012. But what
is going to be this year? The sponsors hope that it’ll be the most marvelous
show you’ve ever seen! Time will tell.
