Хороший поэтический перевод даёт равные права с авторской поэзией.Даётся текст поэтического произведения в оригинале и его "сырой" перевод.
Например,Джон Китс
On the sea
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be mov'd for days from where it sometime fell,
When last the winds of Heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody -
Sit ye near some old Cavern's Mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd!
К морю
Оно вечно шепчет что-то вокруг
Пустынных берегов, и властной зыбью
Заполняет дважды десять тысяч пещер, пока чары
Гекаты оставляет им их древний тенистый звук.
Часто оно в таком ласковом настроении,
Что едва самая маленькая раковина
Сдвинется с места, куда она когда-то упала,
Когда последние небесные ветры бушевали.
О вы! чьи глаза раздражены и устали,
Дайти им полюбоваться на простор Моря;
О вы! чьи уши оглушены грубым шумом,
Или пресыщенны назойливыми мелодиями -
Присядьте у входа какой-нибудь древней Пещеры, и задумайтесь, пока не вздрогните, услышав пенье нимф!
Переводим,рифмуем...
0
Переводим классиков
Автор
wsir1963
, 07 сен 2008 01:26
Сообщений в теме: 55
#1
wsir1963
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Отправлено 07 сентября 2008 - 01:26
#2
Селенка
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Отправлено 10 сентября 2008 - 01:48
Ой, Эллочка! Какое интересное задание, но какое трудное... Понимаю теперь поэтов-переводчиков, хотя им, наверное, проще...
Но, может быть, и у нас что-то получится стоящее?
Я пока только пытаюсь...
Но, может быть, и у нас что-то получится стоящее?
Я пока только пытаюсь...
Oportet vivere
#3
wsir1963
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Отправлено 10 сентября 2008 - 08:26
Леночка,я согласна с тобой.Думаю,что задание должно быть на первое время несколько проще.Пусть это будет,пока, детское стихотворение.
Kindness
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her
She'll do me no harm.
So I'll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I
Very gently will play.
She shall sit by my side,
And I'll give her some food;
And pussy will love me
Because I am good.
Доброта
Я люблю киску,
Её шерстка такая теплая
И если я не причиню ей боль,
То и она не причинит мне вреда.
И поэтому я не буду тянуть ее за хвост
Ни прогонять ее,
Киска и я
Очень нежно будем играть.
Она будет сидеть около меня,
Я дам ей немного еды;
И киска будет любить меня
Потому что я хороший.
Kindness
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her
She'll do me no harm.
So I'll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I
Very gently will play.
She shall sit by my side,
And I'll give her some food;
And pussy will love me
Because I am good.
Доброта
Я люблю киску,
Её шерстка такая теплая
И если я не причиню ей боль,
То и она не причинит мне вреда.
И поэтому я не буду тянуть ее за хвост
Ни прогонять ее,
Киска и я
Очень нежно будем играть.
Она будет сидеть около меня,
Я дам ей немного еды;
И киска будет любить меня
Потому что я хороший.
#4
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:16
Никого тема не заинтересовала.У меня с поэзией слабовато.Да и прозу мне нравится больше переводить.
Я предлагаю коротенькие рассказы.Это очень интересно и хорошая практика для изучающих язык.
Вот рассказ для детей.
Ellena Ashley
The Dragon Rock
This story begins with Once Upon A Time, because the best stories do, of course.
So, Once Upon A Time, and imagine if you can, a steep sided valley cluttered with giant, spiky green pine trees and thick, green grass that reaches to the top of your socks so that when you run, you have to bring your knees up high, like running through water. Wildflowers spread their sweet heady perfume along the gentle breezes and bees hum musically to themselves as they cheerily collect flower pollen.
People are very happy here and they work hard, keeping their houses spick and span and their children's faces clean.
This particular summer had been very hot and dry, making the lean farm dogs sleepy and still. Farmers whistled lazily to themselves and would stand and stare into the distance, trying to remember what it was that they were supposed to be doing. By two o'clock in the afternoon, the town would be in a haze of slumber, with grandmas nodding off over their knitting and farmers snoozing in the haystacks. It was very, very hot.
No matter how hot the day, however, the children would always play in the gentle, rolling meadows. With wide brimmed hats and skin slippery with sun block, they chittered and chattered like sparrows, as they frolicked in their favourite spot.
Now, their favourite spot is very important to this story because in this particular spot is a large, long, scaly rock that looks amazingly similar to a sleeping dragon.
The children knew it was a dragon.
The grown ups knew it was a dragon.
The dogs and cats and birds knew it was a dragon.
But nobody was scared because it never, ever moved.
The boys and girls would clamber all over it, poking sticks at it and hanging wet gumboots on its ears but it didn't mind in the least. The men folk would sometimes chop firewood on its zigzagged tail because it was just the right height and the Ladies Weaving Group often spun sheep fleece on its spikes.
Often on a cool night, when the stars were twinkling brightly in a velvet sky and the children peacefully asleep, the grown ups would settle for the evening with a mug of steaming cocoa in a soft cushioned armchair. Then the stories about How The Dragon Got There began. Nobody knew for sure, there were many different versions depending on which family told the tale, but one thing that everybody agreed on, was this:
< 2 >
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon will Wake
And Free the Village
By making a Lake
This little poem was etched into everybody's minds and sometimes appeared on tea towels and grandma's embroidery.
The days went by slowly, quietly and most importantly, without any rain. There had been no rain in the valley for as long as the children could remember. The wells were starting to bring up muddy brown water and clothes had to be washed in yesterday's dishwater. The lawns had faded to a crisp biscuit colour and the flowers drooped their beautiful heads. Even the trees seemed to hang their branches like weary arms. The valley turned browner and drier and thirstier, every hot, baking day.
The townsfolk grew worried and would murmur to each other when passing with much shaking of heads and tut tuts. They would look upwards searching for rain clouds in the blue, clear sky, but none ever came.
"The tale of the Dragon cannot be true," said old Mrs Greywhistle, the shopkeeper.
"It hasn't moved an inch, I swear," replied her customer, tapping an angry foot.
It was now too hot for the children to play out in the direct sun and they would gather under the shade of the trees, digging holes in the dust and snapping brittle twigs.
"The Dragon will help us soon," said one child.
"He must do Something," agreed another.
"I'm sure he will."
They all nodded in agreement.
A week went by with no change, the people struggling along as best they could. Some were getting cross at the Dragon and would cast angry, sideways looks at it when passing. The villagers were becoming skinny eyed and sullen.
Meanwhile, the children had a plan.
Quickly and quietly, they moved invisibly around town, picking and plucking at the fading flowers. With outstretched arms and bouquets up to their chins, they rustled over to where the giant rock lay, as still as ever.
The boys and girls placed bunches of flowers around the Dragon in a big circle. They scattered petals around its head and over its nose, then danced around and around it, skipping and chanting the rhyme that they all knew so well.
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon Will Wake
And Save the Village
By making a Lake.
The searing heat made them dizzy and fuzzy and finally they all fell in a sprawling heap at the bottom of the mound. They looked up at the rock.
< 3 >
Nothing happened.
A dry wind lazily picked up some flower heads and swirled them around. The air was thick with pollen and perfume. A stony grey nostril twitched.
"I saw something," cried the youngest boy.
They stared intently.
An ear swiveled like a periscope.
The ground began to rumble.
"Look out! Run!Run!"
The children scampered in all directions, shrieking and squealing, arms pumping with excitement.
The rumbling grew and grew.
The Dragon raised its sleepy head. It got onto its front feet and sat like a dog. It stood up and stretched, arching its long scaly back like a sleek tabby cat. It blinked and looked around with big kind, long lashed eyes.
And then its nostrils twitched and quivered again.
The older folk were alerted by the screams and shrieks. The ladies held up their long skirts to run and the men rolled their sleeves up and soon the whole town stood together in a tight huddle at the foot of the hill, staring up at the large beast with mouths held open.
"AHHHHH AAHHHHHHHHH!!"
The noise erupted from the Dragon.
"AHHHHH AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The families gripped each other tighter and shut their eyes.
"AHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOO!!"
The sneeze blasted from the Dragon like a rocket, throwing it back fifty paces, causing a whirlwind of dust and dirt.
"AHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
The second blast split open the dry earth, sending explosions of soil and tree roots high into the sky like missiles, and something else too ...
The people heard the sound but couldn't recognize it at first for it had been such a long time since their ears had heard such tinkling melody. As their eyes widened in wonder, their smiles turned into grins and then yahoos and hoorahs.
Water, cold, clear spring water, oozed, then trickled, then roared out of the hole, down the hillside and along the valley floor.
The torrent knocked over a farmer's haystack, but he didn't care.
The river carried away the schoolteacher's bike shed but she cared not a jot. It even demolished the Ladies Bowling Club changing rooms but they howled with laughter and slapped their thighs. When the flood sent pools of water out towards the golf course, filling up sixteen of the nineteen holes, the men just hooted and whistled and threw their caps up in the air.
< 4 >
What used to be a dirty, brown dust bowl, now gleamed and glistened in the sunlight, sending playful waves and ripples across the lake and inviting all to share.
"HMMMMM," sighed the Dragon sleepily, and showing his perfect movie star teeth. "Seeing as I'm awake ..."
And he lumbered forward with surprising grace and style and disappeared into the cool dark water with a small wave of a claw and flick of his tail.
They never saw him again.
After the families had restored and rebuilt the village, and set up sailing clubs for the children, and scuba diving for the grandparents, they erected a bandstand and monument in the spot where the Dragon used to lay. Every year to mark the occasion, they would bring garlands of flowers and herbs and arrange them in a big circle. The children would have the day off school, for it was known as 'Water Dragon Day' and wearing the dragon masks that they had been working on all week, would skip and clap and sing.
The Dragon helped Us
As We said He would Do
Hooray for The Dragon
Achoo, Achoo, ACHOOOO!
And that is the end of the story.
Я предлагаю коротенькие рассказы.Это очень интересно и хорошая практика для изучающих язык.
Вот рассказ для детей.
Ellena Ashley
The Dragon Rock
This story begins with Once Upon A Time, because the best stories do, of course.
So, Once Upon A Time, and imagine if you can, a steep sided valley cluttered with giant, spiky green pine trees and thick, green grass that reaches to the top of your socks so that when you run, you have to bring your knees up high, like running through water. Wildflowers spread their sweet heady perfume along the gentle breezes and bees hum musically to themselves as they cheerily collect flower pollen.
People are very happy here and they work hard, keeping their houses spick and span and their children's faces clean.
This particular summer had been very hot and dry, making the lean farm dogs sleepy and still. Farmers whistled lazily to themselves and would stand and stare into the distance, trying to remember what it was that they were supposed to be doing. By two o'clock in the afternoon, the town would be in a haze of slumber, with grandmas nodding off over their knitting and farmers snoozing in the haystacks. It was very, very hot.
No matter how hot the day, however, the children would always play in the gentle, rolling meadows. With wide brimmed hats and skin slippery with sun block, they chittered and chattered like sparrows, as they frolicked in their favourite spot.
Now, their favourite spot is very important to this story because in this particular spot is a large, long, scaly rock that looks amazingly similar to a sleeping dragon.
The children knew it was a dragon.
The grown ups knew it was a dragon.
The dogs and cats and birds knew it was a dragon.
But nobody was scared because it never, ever moved.
The boys and girls would clamber all over it, poking sticks at it and hanging wet gumboots on its ears but it didn't mind in the least. The men folk would sometimes chop firewood on its zigzagged tail because it was just the right height and the Ladies Weaving Group often spun sheep fleece on its spikes.
Often on a cool night, when the stars were twinkling brightly in a velvet sky and the children peacefully asleep, the grown ups would settle for the evening with a mug of steaming cocoa in a soft cushioned armchair. Then the stories about How The Dragon Got There began. Nobody knew for sure, there were many different versions depending on which family told the tale, but one thing that everybody agreed on, was this:
< 2 >
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon will Wake
And Free the Village
By making a Lake
This little poem was etched into everybody's minds and sometimes appeared on tea towels and grandma's embroidery.
The days went by slowly, quietly and most importantly, without any rain. There had been no rain in the valley for as long as the children could remember. The wells were starting to bring up muddy brown water and clothes had to be washed in yesterday's dishwater. The lawns had faded to a crisp biscuit colour and the flowers drooped their beautiful heads. Even the trees seemed to hang their branches like weary arms. The valley turned browner and drier and thirstier, every hot, baking day.
The townsfolk grew worried and would murmur to each other when passing with much shaking of heads and tut tuts. They would look upwards searching for rain clouds in the blue, clear sky, but none ever came.
"The tale of the Dragon cannot be true," said old Mrs Greywhistle, the shopkeeper.
"It hasn't moved an inch, I swear," replied her customer, tapping an angry foot.
It was now too hot for the children to play out in the direct sun and they would gather under the shade of the trees, digging holes in the dust and snapping brittle twigs.
"The Dragon will help us soon," said one child.
"He must do Something," agreed another.
"I'm sure he will."
They all nodded in agreement.
A week went by with no change, the people struggling along as best they could. Some were getting cross at the Dragon and would cast angry, sideways looks at it when passing. The villagers were becoming skinny eyed and sullen.
Meanwhile, the children had a plan.
Quickly and quietly, they moved invisibly around town, picking and plucking at the fading flowers. With outstretched arms and bouquets up to their chins, they rustled over to where the giant rock lay, as still as ever.
The boys and girls placed bunches of flowers around the Dragon in a big circle. They scattered petals around its head and over its nose, then danced around and around it, skipping and chanting the rhyme that they all knew so well.
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon Will Wake
And Save the Village
By making a Lake.
The searing heat made them dizzy and fuzzy and finally they all fell in a sprawling heap at the bottom of the mound. They looked up at the rock.
< 3 >
Nothing happened.
A dry wind lazily picked up some flower heads and swirled them around. The air was thick with pollen and perfume. A stony grey nostril twitched.
"I saw something," cried the youngest boy.
They stared intently.
An ear swiveled like a periscope.
The ground began to rumble.
"Look out! Run!Run!"
The children scampered in all directions, shrieking and squealing, arms pumping with excitement.
The rumbling grew and grew.
The Dragon raised its sleepy head. It got onto its front feet and sat like a dog. It stood up and stretched, arching its long scaly back like a sleek tabby cat. It blinked and looked around with big kind, long lashed eyes.
And then its nostrils twitched and quivered again.
The older folk were alerted by the screams and shrieks. The ladies held up their long skirts to run and the men rolled their sleeves up and soon the whole town stood together in a tight huddle at the foot of the hill, staring up at the large beast with mouths held open.
"AHHHHH AAHHHHHHHHH!!"
The noise erupted from the Dragon.
"AHHHHH AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The families gripped each other tighter and shut their eyes.
"AHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOO!!"
The sneeze blasted from the Dragon like a rocket, throwing it back fifty paces, causing a whirlwind of dust and dirt.
"AHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
The second blast split open the dry earth, sending explosions of soil and tree roots high into the sky like missiles, and something else too ...
The people heard the sound but couldn't recognize it at first for it had been such a long time since their ears had heard such tinkling melody. As their eyes widened in wonder, their smiles turned into grins and then yahoos and hoorahs.
Water, cold, clear spring water, oozed, then trickled, then roared out of the hole, down the hillside and along the valley floor.
The torrent knocked over a farmer's haystack, but he didn't care.
The river carried away the schoolteacher's bike shed but she cared not a jot. It even demolished the Ladies Bowling Club changing rooms but they howled with laughter and slapped their thighs. When the flood sent pools of water out towards the golf course, filling up sixteen of the nineteen holes, the men just hooted and whistled and threw their caps up in the air.
< 4 >
What used to be a dirty, brown dust bowl, now gleamed and glistened in the sunlight, sending playful waves and ripples across the lake and inviting all to share.
"HMMMMM," sighed the Dragon sleepily, and showing his perfect movie star teeth. "Seeing as I'm awake ..."
And he lumbered forward with surprising grace and style and disappeared into the cool dark water with a small wave of a claw and flick of his tail.
They never saw him again.
After the families had restored and rebuilt the village, and set up sailing clubs for the children, and scuba diving for the grandparents, they erected a bandstand and monument in the spot where the Dragon used to lay. Every year to mark the occasion, they would bring garlands of flowers and herbs and arrange them in a big circle. The children would have the day off school, for it was known as 'Water Dragon Day' and wearing the dragon masks that they had been working on all week, would skip and clap and sing.
The Dragon helped Us
As We said He would Do
Hooray for The Dragon
Achoo, Achoo, ACHOOOO!
And that is the end of the story.
#5
wsir1963
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:19
Так я перевела.
Драконья Скала
Эллен Эшли.
Давным-давно началась эта история. Вы и представить себе не можете как давно.
Случилось это в долине, примкнувшей к склонам горы.
Долина заполнена гигантскими, остроконечными соснами, сочной травой, достигающей верха носков, и когда вы бежите, вам приходится поднимать высоко колени, так как будто вы бежите по воде. Полевые цветы источают сладкие дурманящие запахи, легкий ветерок приятно ласкает, пчелы деловито жужжат, собирая цветочную пыльцу.
Люди счастливы в этом месте, они упорно трудятся, делая дома нарядными, а лица аккуратных детишек откликаются беззаботными улыбками.
В том году лето выдалось знойным и засушливым, местные собаки и без того поджарые отказывались от еды, делались вялыми. Фермеры, лениво посвистывая, смотрели вдаль в надежде, что пойдет дождь. К двум часам дня, когда становилось нестерпимо жарко, деревенька погружалась в дремоту, бабули клевали носом за вязанием, а фермеры храпели у стогов сена.
Несмотря на жару, дети продолжали играть рядом с холмистыми склонами, на любимом месте. В широкополых шляпах, с обгорелой от солнца кожей они чирикали и щебетали словно воробьи.
Место это особенное и очень важное в нашей истории, потому что здесь была большая
длинная чешуйчатая скала, очень похожая на спящего дракона. Дети верили, что это дракон. Взрослые верили, что это дракон. Собаки, кошки, птицы верили, что это дракон. Но никто не боялся, так как он никогда даже не шевелился.
Мальчики и девочки карабкались по нему, тыкали в него, на ушах вывешивали мокрые резиновые сапожки, но дракон оставался безразличным. Мужчины иногда кололи дрова на зигзагообразном хвосте, что было очень удобно, женщины же часто пряли овечью шерсть на шипах.
Нередко прохладными вечерами, когда звезды ярко мерцают на бархатном небе, дети безмятежно спят, взрослые устраиваются с кружкой горячего какао в мягких уютных креслах. И тогда в каждой семье рассказывают, как Дракон появился в этих местах. Никто не знает наверняка, у каждого свой вариант, но в одном они согласны:
«2»
В трудные времена
Проснется дракон
Деревню освободит
Озеро пробьет
Маленькое стихотворенье знали все, а бабушки вышивали его на кухонных полотенцах.
Дни тянулись в ожидании дождя. Дождя не было в долине столько, сколько могли помнить дети. В колодцах поднялась нечистая коричневая вода, одежду стирали в оставшейся со вчерашнего дня грязной воде.
Лужайки лишились красочного вида, цветы склонили прекрасные головки.
Даже деревья утомленно опустили ветви как ненужное оружие. Долина стала бурой, сухой, измученной жаждой от палящих ежедневных лучей.
Встревоженные жители обращались друг к другу шепотом, проявляли тревогу, недоуменно качая головами. Они безнадежно искали в чистом голубом небе дождевого облачка.
«Неправда, что рассказывают о Драконе», - сердито произнесла пожилая миссис Грейвистл, хозяйка магазина.
«Клянусь, он не сдвинулся ни на дюйм »,- отвечал ее клиент, недовольно постукивая ногой.
Жгучие солнечные лучи заставили детей спрятаться в тени деревьев. Они копали ямки ломкими прутиками.
«Дракон скоро нам поможет», - сказал один из детей.
«Он должен что-то сделать», - согласился с ним другой.
«Я уверен, что он придет».
Они были убеждены и дружно закивали.
Неделя прошла без изменений, люди держались изо всех сил. Некоторые, проходя мимо Дракона, бросали сердитый взгляд. Жители деревни становились мрачными, выглядели безысходно.
Тем временем, у детей созрел план.
Бесшумно и проворно, стараясь, чтобы их не заметили, они направились к скале, по пути
собирая увядшие цветы.
Мальчики и девочки разместили букеты вокруг Дракона. Особенно много лепестков они рассыпали у головы и около носа. Затем, встав в круг, они станцевали и спели знакомой стишок.
В трудные времена
Проснется Дракон
Деревню спасет
Озеро пробьет
Температура поднималась все выше, вызывая головокружение. Движения детей делались нечеткими, в конце концов, они свалились у основания насыпи. Взор их был направлен на скалу.
Ничего не происходило.
Лишь сухой ветер лениво подобрал цветочные головки и закружил ими. Воздух заполнился пыльцой и ароматом. И вдруг каменная серая ноздря вздрогнула.
«Я что-то видел»,- закричал самый маленький мальчик. Все пристально смотрели на скалу.
Ухо завертелось как перископ. Земля загромыхала.
« Смотрите! Он проснулся! Он проснулся!»
Дети стремительно вскочили, вопя и визжа, они кинулись прочь. Грохот продолжал расти.
Дракон поднял сонную голову. Он освободил передние лапы и сел как собака. Затем поднялся, потянулся, выгнул длинную чешуйчатую спину как блестящий полосатый кот.
Он моргал, недоуменно озираясь по сторонам. Ноздри дракона непрерывно подергивались. Взрослые были приведены в готовность криками и воплями. Женщины подобрали длинные юбки, чтобы удобнее бежать, а мужчины засучили рукава, и скоро вся деревня собралась у подножия холмов. Они смотрели на зверя, чей рот был широко открыт. «АААААААААПЧХИ!» Оглушительно чихнул Дракон. «АААПЧХИ! АААПЧХИ!» Люди держались друг за друга и закрыли глаза. «ААААААПЧХИ! ОООООО!»
Дракон чихал, звук был похож на рев запускаемой ракеты. Грязь, пыль кружили в вихре на расстоянии пятидесяти шагов вокруг. «АПЧХИ! АПЧХИ! ОООООО!»
Второй сильный порыв ветра оторвал куски сухой земли, поднял высоко в небо камни, корни деревьев, почва колебалась под ногами. Люди услышали какой-то звук, но некоторое время не могли понять, что напоминает звенящая мелодия.
Произошло чудо!!!
Глаза жителей широко распахнулись в изумлении, улыбки обратились в радостный смех, а потом «УРА! УРА!»
Вода, холодная, прозрачная ключевая вода вначале медленно сочилась, превращалась в широкую струю, ревела изо всех отверстий, текла по склону и по дну долины. Поток свалил стог сена, но фермера это нисколько не заботило. Река унесла велосипед школьного учителя, но ему было безразлично. Вода уничтожила переодевалки Женского Боулинг Клуба, но дамы потешно хлопали себя по бедрам и от души смеялись. Шестнадцать лунок из девятнадцати на поле для гольфа были залиты водой, но мужчины ликующе кричали, свистели и подбрасывали кепки в воздух.
Всё, что было грязным, покрытым серой пылью, теперь сияло и блестело в солнечном свете, озеро покрылось веселой рябью, игривые волны беззаботно плескались.
«АХХХХХ», Дракон сладко зевнул, открывая огромную пасть и показывая прекрасные, словно у кинозвезды, зубы.
«Я так понимаю, что не сплю…». Он удивительно грациозно потянулся, а затем с грохотом направился к озеру и исчез в темной воде, образовав водоворот от удара хвоста.
Никто никогда больше не видел Дракона. Прошло время, жители восстановили деревню, на озере построили парусный клуб, даже дедушки и бабушки с удовольствием занимались подводным плаванием. На том месте, где всегда лежал Дракон установили эстраду и воздвигли памятник. Каждый год жители отмечают день, когда Дракон помог деревне, они приносят большие гирлянды из цветов и оставляют в кругу. В этот день детишки не учатся, потому что для всех праздник, известный как «Водный Драконий День». Для этого они шьют маскарадные костюмы, в них они будут петь плясать хлопать в ладоши.
Мы просили
И Дракон помог нам
УРА! УРА! УРА ДРАКОНУ!
АПЧХИ! АПЧХИ! АААААПЧХИ!
Вот такая история!
Драконья Скала
Эллен Эшли.
Давным-давно началась эта история. Вы и представить себе не можете как давно.
Случилось это в долине, примкнувшей к склонам горы.
Долина заполнена гигантскими, остроконечными соснами, сочной травой, достигающей верха носков, и когда вы бежите, вам приходится поднимать высоко колени, так как будто вы бежите по воде. Полевые цветы источают сладкие дурманящие запахи, легкий ветерок приятно ласкает, пчелы деловито жужжат, собирая цветочную пыльцу.
Люди счастливы в этом месте, они упорно трудятся, делая дома нарядными, а лица аккуратных детишек откликаются беззаботными улыбками.
В том году лето выдалось знойным и засушливым, местные собаки и без того поджарые отказывались от еды, делались вялыми. Фермеры, лениво посвистывая, смотрели вдаль в надежде, что пойдет дождь. К двум часам дня, когда становилось нестерпимо жарко, деревенька погружалась в дремоту, бабули клевали носом за вязанием, а фермеры храпели у стогов сена.
Несмотря на жару, дети продолжали играть рядом с холмистыми склонами, на любимом месте. В широкополых шляпах, с обгорелой от солнца кожей они чирикали и щебетали словно воробьи.
Место это особенное и очень важное в нашей истории, потому что здесь была большая
длинная чешуйчатая скала, очень похожая на спящего дракона. Дети верили, что это дракон. Взрослые верили, что это дракон. Собаки, кошки, птицы верили, что это дракон. Но никто не боялся, так как он никогда даже не шевелился.
Мальчики и девочки карабкались по нему, тыкали в него, на ушах вывешивали мокрые резиновые сапожки, но дракон оставался безразличным. Мужчины иногда кололи дрова на зигзагообразном хвосте, что было очень удобно, женщины же часто пряли овечью шерсть на шипах.
Нередко прохладными вечерами, когда звезды ярко мерцают на бархатном небе, дети безмятежно спят, взрослые устраиваются с кружкой горячего какао в мягких уютных креслах. И тогда в каждой семье рассказывают, как Дракон появился в этих местах. Никто не знает наверняка, у каждого свой вариант, но в одном они согласны:
«2»
В трудные времена
Проснется дракон
Деревню освободит
Озеро пробьет
Маленькое стихотворенье знали все, а бабушки вышивали его на кухонных полотенцах.
Дни тянулись в ожидании дождя. Дождя не было в долине столько, сколько могли помнить дети. В колодцах поднялась нечистая коричневая вода, одежду стирали в оставшейся со вчерашнего дня грязной воде.
Лужайки лишились красочного вида, цветы склонили прекрасные головки.
Даже деревья утомленно опустили ветви как ненужное оружие. Долина стала бурой, сухой, измученной жаждой от палящих ежедневных лучей.
Встревоженные жители обращались друг к другу шепотом, проявляли тревогу, недоуменно качая головами. Они безнадежно искали в чистом голубом небе дождевого облачка.
«Неправда, что рассказывают о Драконе», - сердито произнесла пожилая миссис Грейвистл, хозяйка магазина.
«Клянусь, он не сдвинулся ни на дюйм »,- отвечал ее клиент, недовольно постукивая ногой.
Жгучие солнечные лучи заставили детей спрятаться в тени деревьев. Они копали ямки ломкими прутиками.
«Дракон скоро нам поможет», - сказал один из детей.
«Он должен что-то сделать», - согласился с ним другой.
«Я уверен, что он придет».
Они были убеждены и дружно закивали.
Неделя прошла без изменений, люди держались изо всех сил. Некоторые, проходя мимо Дракона, бросали сердитый взгляд. Жители деревни становились мрачными, выглядели безысходно.
Тем временем, у детей созрел план.
Бесшумно и проворно, стараясь, чтобы их не заметили, они направились к скале, по пути
собирая увядшие цветы.
Мальчики и девочки разместили букеты вокруг Дракона. Особенно много лепестков они рассыпали у головы и около носа. Затем, встав в круг, они станцевали и спели знакомой стишок.
В трудные времена
Проснется Дракон
Деревню спасет
Озеро пробьет
Температура поднималась все выше, вызывая головокружение. Движения детей делались нечеткими, в конце концов, они свалились у основания насыпи. Взор их был направлен на скалу.
Ничего не происходило.
Лишь сухой ветер лениво подобрал цветочные головки и закружил ими. Воздух заполнился пыльцой и ароматом. И вдруг каменная серая ноздря вздрогнула.
«Я что-то видел»,- закричал самый маленький мальчик. Все пристально смотрели на скалу.
Ухо завертелось как перископ. Земля загромыхала.
« Смотрите! Он проснулся! Он проснулся!»
Дети стремительно вскочили, вопя и визжа, они кинулись прочь. Грохот продолжал расти.
Дракон поднял сонную голову. Он освободил передние лапы и сел как собака. Затем поднялся, потянулся, выгнул длинную чешуйчатую спину как блестящий полосатый кот.
Он моргал, недоуменно озираясь по сторонам. Ноздри дракона непрерывно подергивались. Взрослые были приведены в готовность криками и воплями. Женщины подобрали длинные юбки, чтобы удобнее бежать, а мужчины засучили рукава, и скоро вся деревня собралась у подножия холмов. Они смотрели на зверя, чей рот был широко открыт. «АААААААААПЧХИ!» Оглушительно чихнул Дракон. «АААПЧХИ! АААПЧХИ!» Люди держались друг за друга и закрыли глаза. «ААААААПЧХИ! ОООООО!»
Дракон чихал, звук был похож на рев запускаемой ракеты. Грязь, пыль кружили в вихре на расстоянии пятидесяти шагов вокруг. «АПЧХИ! АПЧХИ! ОООООО!»
Второй сильный порыв ветра оторвал куски сухой земли, поднял высоко в небо камни, корни деревьев, почва колебалась под ногами. Люди услышали какой-то звук, но некоторое время не могли понять, что напоминает звенящая мелодия.
Произошло чудо!!!
Глаза жителей широко распахнулись в изумлении, улыбки обратились в радостный смех, а потом «УРА! УРА!»
Вода, холодная, прозрачная ключевая вода вначале медленно сочилась, превращалась в широкую струю, ревела изо всех отверстий, текла по склону и по дну долины. Поток свалил стог сена, но фермера это нисколько не заботило. Река унесла велосипед школьного учителя, но ему было безразлично. Вода уничтожила переодевалки Женского Боулинг Клуба, но дамы потешно хлопали себя по бедрам и от души смеялись. Шестнадцать лунок из девятнадцати на поле для гольфа были залиты водой, но мужчины ликующе кричали, свистели и подбрасывали кепки в воздух.
Всё, что было грязным, покрытым серой пылью, теперь сияло и блестело в солнечном свете, озеро покрылось веселой рябью, игривые волны беззаботно плескались.
«АХХХХХ», Дракон сладко зевнул, открывая огромную пасть и показывая прекрасные, словно у кинозвезды, зубы.
«Я так понимаю, что не сплю…». Он удивительно грациозно потянулся, а затем с грохотом направился к озеру и исчез в темной воде, образовав водоворот от удара хвоста.
Никто никогда больше не видел Дракона. Прошло время, жители восстановили деревню, на озере построили парусный клуб, даже дедушки и бабушки с удовольствием занимались подводным плаванием. На том месте, где всегда лежал Дракон установили эстраду и воздвигли памятник. Каждый год жители отмечают день, когда Дракон помог деревне, они приносят большие гирлянды из цветов и оставляют в кругу. В этот день детишки не учатся, потому что для всех праздник, известный как «Водный Драконий День». Для этого они шьют маскарадные костюмы, в них они будут петь плясать хлопать в ладоши.
Мы просили
И Дракон помог нам
УРА! УРА! УРА ДРАКОНУ!
АПЧХИ! АПЧХИ! АААААПЧХИ!
Вот такая история!
#6
wsir1963
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:28
Ещё рассказ.Он несколько побольше.
Ursula Wills-Jones
The Wicker Husband
Once upon a time, there was an ugly girl. She was short and dumpy, had one leg a bit shorter than the other, and her eyebrows met in the middle. The ugly girl gutted fish for a living, so her hands smelt funny and her dress was covered in scales. She had no mother or brother, no father, sister, or any friends. She lived in a ramshackle house on the outskirts of the village, and she never complained.
One by one, the village girls married the local lads, and up the path to the church they'd prance, smiling all the way. At the weddings, the ugly girl always stood at the back of the church, smelling slightly of brine. The village women gossiped about the ugly girl. They wondered what she did with the money she earnt. The ugly girl never bought a new frock, never made repairs to the house, and never drank in the village tavern.
Now, it so happened that outside the village, in a great damp swamp, lived an old basket-maker who was famed for the quality of his work. One day the old basket-maker heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, the ugly girl stood there. In her hand, she held six gold coins.
'I want you to make me a husband,' she said.
'Come back in a month,' he replied.
Well, the old basket-maker was greatly moved that the ugly girl had entrusted him with such an important task. He resolved to make her the best husband he could. He made the wicker husband broad of shoulder and long of leg, and all the other things women like. He made him strong of arm and elegant of neck, and his brows were wide and well-spaced. His hair was a fine dark brown, his eyes a greenish hazel.
When the day came, the ugly girl knocked on the basket-maker's door.
'He says today is too soon. He will be in the church tomorrow, at ten,' said the basket-maker. The ugly girl went away, and spent the day scraping scales from her dress.
< 2 >
Later that night, there was a knock on the door of the village tailor. When the tailor opened it, the wicker husband stood outside.
'Lend me a suit,' he said. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to church naked.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the tailor, and ran out the back door.
The tailor's wife came out, wiping her hands. 'What's going on?' she said.
'Lend me a suit,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married tomorrow, and I cannot go to my wedding naked.'
The tailor's wife gave him a suit, and slammed the door in his face.
Next, there was a knock on the door of the village shoe-maker. When the shoe-maker opened it, the wicker husband stood there.
'Lend me some shoes,' he said. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to church barefoot.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the shoe-maker, and he ran out the back door.
The shoe-maker's wife came out, her hands trembling.
'What do you want?' she said.
'Lend me some shoes,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to my wedding barefoot.'
The shoe-maker's wife gave him a pair of shoes, and slammed the door in his face. Next, the wicker husband went to the village inn.
'Give me a drink,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married tomorrow, and I wish to celebrate.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the inn-keeper and all his customers, and out they ran. The poor wicker husband went behind the bar, and poured himself a drink.
When the ugly girl got to church in the morning, she was mighty pleased to find her husband so handsome, and so well turned-out.
When the couple had enjoyed their first night of marriage, the wicker husband said to his wife: 'This bed is broken. Bring me a chisel: I will fix it.'
< 3 >
So like a good husband, he began to fix the bed. The ugly girl went out to gut fish. When she came back at the end of the day, the wicker husband looked at her, and said: 'I was made to be with you.'
When the couple had enjoyed their second night of marriage, the wicker husband said: 'This roof is leaky. Bring me a ladder: I will fix it.'
So, like a good husband, he climbed up and began to fix the thatch. The ugly girl went out to gut fish. When she returned in the evening, the wicker husband looked at his wife, and said: 'Without you, I should never have seen the sun on the water, or the clouds in the sky.'
When the couple had enjoyed their third night of marriage, the ugly girl got ready to out. 'The chimney needs cleaning,' she said, hopefully, 'And the fire could be laid...' But at this, the wicker husband - she was just beginning to learn his expressions - looked completely terrified. From this, the ugly girl came to understand that there are some things you cannot ask a man to do, even if he is very kind.
Over the weeks, the villagers began to notice a change in the ugly girl. If one of her legs was still shorter than the other, her hips moved with a swing that didn't please them. If she still smelt funny, she sang while she gutted the fish. She bought a new frock and wore flowers in her hair. Even her eyebrows no longer met in the middle: the wicker husband had pulled them out with his strong, withied fingers. When the villagers passed the ugly girl's house, they saw it had been painted anew, the windows sparkled, and the door no longer hung askew. You might think that all these changes pleased the villagers, but oh no. Instead, wives pointed out to husbands that their doors needed fixing, and why didn't they offer? The men retorted that maybe if their wives made an effort with new frocks and flowers in their hair, then maybe they'd feel like fixing the house, and everybody grumbled and cursed each other, but secretly, in their hearts, they blamed the ugly girl and her husband.
< 4 >
As to the ugly girl, she didn't notice all the jealousy. She was too busy growing accustomed to married life, and was finding that the advantages of a wicker husband outweighed his few shortcomings. The wicker husband didn't eat, and never complained that his dinner was late. He only drank water, the muddier the better. She was a little sad that she could not cook him dinner like an ordinary man, and watch him while he ate. In the cold nights, she hoped they would sit together close to the fire, but he preferred the darkness, far from the flames. The ugly girl got in the habit of calling across the room all the things she had to say to him. As winter turned to spring, and rain pelted down, the wicker husband became a little mouldy, and the ugly girl had to scrub him down with a brush and a bottle of vinegar. Spring turned to summer, and June was very dry. The wicker husband complained of stiffness in his joints, and spent the hottest hour of the day lying in the stream. The ugly girl took her fish-gutting, and sat on the bank, keeping him company.
Eventually the villagers were too ridden with curiosity to stand it any longer. There was a wedding in the village: the ugly girl and her husband were invited. At the wedding, there was music and dancing, and food and wine. As the musicians struck up, the wicker husband and the ugly girl went to dance. The villagers could not help staring: the wicker husband moved so fine. He lifted his dumpy wife like she was nought but a feather, and swung her round and round. He swayed and shimmered; he was elegant, he was graceful. As for the ugly girl: she was in heaven.
The women began to whisper behind their hands. Now, the blacksmith's wife was boldest, and she resolved to ask the wicker husband to dance. When the music paused she went towards the couple. The ugly girl was sitting in the wicker husband's lap, so he creaked a little. The blacksmith's wife was about to tap the wicker husband on the shoulder, but his arms were wrapped round the ugly girl.
< 5 >
'You are the only reason that I live and breathe,' the wicker husband said to his wife.
The blacksmith's wife heard what he said, and went off, sulking. The next day there were many frayed tempers in the village.
'You've got two left feet!' shouted the shoe-maker's wife at her husband.
'You never tell me anything nice!' yelled the blacksmith's wife.
'All you do is look at other women!' shouted the baker's wife, though how she knew was a mystery, as she'd done nothing but stare at the wicker husband all night. The husbands fled their homes and congregated in the tavern.
'T'aint right,' they muttered, 'T'isn't natural.'
'E's showing us up.'
'Painting doors.'
'Fixing thatch.'
'Murmuring sweet nothings.'
'Dancing!' muttered the blacksmith, and they all spat.
'He's not really a man,' muttered the baker. 'An abomination!'
'He don't eat.'
'He don't grumble.'
'He don't even fart,' added the tailor, gloomily.
The men shook their heads, and agreed that it couldn't go on.
Meanwhile the women congregated in each other's kitchens.
'It's not right,' they muttered. 'Why does she deserve him?'
'It's an enchantment,' they whispered. 'She bewitched him.'
'She'll be onto our husbands next, I expect,' said the baker's wife. 'We should be careful.'
'She needs to be brought down a peg or two.'
'Fancies that she's better than the rest of us, I reckon.'
'Flowers in her hair!!'
'Did you see her dancing?'
And they all agreed that it couldn't go on.
One day the wicker husband was on his way back from checking the fish-traps, when he was accosted by the baker.
Ursula Wills-Jones
The Wicker Husband
Once upon a time, there was an ugly girl. She was short and dumpy, had one leg a bit shorter than the other, and her eyebrows met in the middle. The ugly girl gutted fish for a living, so her hands smelt funny and her dress was covered in scales. She had no mother or brother, no father, sister, or any friends. She lived in a ramshackle house on the outskirts of the village, and she never complained.
One by one, the village girls married the local lads, and up the path to the church they'd prance, smiling all the way. At the weddings, the ugly girl always stood at the back of the church, smelling slightly of brine. The village women gossiped about the ugly girl. They wondered what she did with the money she earnt. The ugly girl never bought a new frock, never made repairs to the house, and never drank in the village tavern.
Now, it so happened that outside the village, in a great damp swamp, lived an old basket-maker who was famed for the quality of his work. One day the old basket-maker heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, the ugly girl stood there. In her hand, she held six gold coins.
'I want you to make me a husband,' she said.
'Come back in a month,' he replied.
Well, the old basket-maker was greatly moved that the ugly girl had entrusted him with such an important task. He resolved to make her the best husband he could. He made the wicker husband broad of shoulder and long of leg, and all the other things women like. He made him strong of arm and elegant of neck, and his brows were wide and well-spaced. His hair was a fine dark brown, his eyes a greenish hazel.
When the day came, the ugly girl knocked on the basket-maker's door.
'He says today is too soon. He will be in the church tomorrow, at ten,' said the basket-maker. The ugly girl went away, and spent the day scraping scales from her dress.
< 2 >
Later that night, there was a knock on the door of the village tailor. When the tailor opened it, the wicker husband stood outside.
'Lend me a suit,' he said. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to church naked.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the tailor, and ran out the back door.
The tailor's wife came out, wiping her hands. 'What's going on?' she said.
'Lend me a suit,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married tomorrow, and I cannot go to my wedding naked.'
The tailor's wife gave him a suit, and slammed the door in his face.
Next, there was a knock on the door of the village shoe-maker. When the shoe-maker opened it, the wicker husband stood there.
'Lend me some shoes,' he said. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to church barefoot.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the shoe-maker, and he ran out the back door.
The shoe-maker's wife came out, her hands trembling.
'What do you want?' she said.
'Lend me some shoes,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married in the morning, and I cannot go to my wedding barefoot.'
The shoe-maker's wife gave him a pair of shoes, and slammed the door in his face. Next, the wicker husband went to the village inn.
'Give me a drink,' said the wicker husband. 'I am getting married tomorrow, and I wish to celebrate.'
'Aaaaaaargh!' yelled the inn-keeper and all his customers, and out they ran. The poor wicker husband went behind the bar, and poured himself a drink.
When the ugly girl got to church in the morning, she was mighty pleased to find her husband so handsome, and so well turned-out.
When the couple had enjoyed their first night of marriage, the wicker husband said to his wife: 'This bed is broken. Bring me a chisel: I will fix it.'
< 3 >
So like a good husband, he began to fix the bed. The ugly girl went out to gut fish. When she came back at the end of the day, the wicker husband looked at her, and said: 'I was made to be with you.'
When the couple had enjoyed their second night of marriage, the wicker husband said: 'This roof is leaky. Bring me a ladder: I will fix it.'
So, like a good husband, he climbed up and began to fix the thatch. The ugly girl went out to gut fish. When she returned in the evening, the wicker husband looked at his wife, and said: 'Without you, I should never have seen the sun on the water, or the clouds in the sky.'
When the couple had enjoyed their third night of marriage, the ugly girl got ready to out. 'The chimney needs cleaning,' she said, hopefully, 'And the fire could be laid...' But at this, the wicker husband - she was just beginning to learn his expressions - looked completely terrified. From this, the ugly girl came to understand that there are some things you cannot ask a man to do, even if he is very kind.
Over the weeks, the villagers began to notice a change in the ugly girl. If one of her legs was still shorter than the other, her hips moved with a swing that didn't please them. If she still smelt funny, she sang while she gutted the fish. She bought a new frock and wore flowers in her hair. Even her eyebrows no longer met in the middle: the wicker husband had pulled them out with his strong, withied fingers. When the villagers passed the ugly girl's house, they saw it had been painted anew, the windows sparkled, and the door no longer hung askew. You might think that all these changes pleased the villagers, but oh no. Instead, wives pointed out to husbands that their doors needed fixing, and why didn't they offer? The men retorted that maybe if their wives made an effort with new frocks and flowers in their hair, then maybe they'd feel like fixing the house, and everybody grumbled and cursed each other, but secretly, in their hearts, they blamed the ugly girl and her husband.
< 4 >
As to the ugly girl, she didn't notice all the jealousy. She was too busy growing accustomed to married life, and was finding that the advantages of a wicker husband outweighed his few shortcomings. The wicker husband didn't eat, and never complained that his dinner was late. He only drank water, the muddier the better. She was a little sad that she could not cook him dinner like an ordinary man, and watch him while he ate. In the cold nights, she hoped they would sit together close to the fire, but he preferred the darkness, far from the flames. The ugly girl got in the habit of calling across the room all the things she had to say to him. As winter turned to spring, and rain pelted down, the wicker husband became a little mouldy, and the ugly girl had to scrub him down with a brush and a bottle of vinegar. Spring turned to summer, and June was very dry. The wicker husband complained of stiffness in his joints, and spent the hottest hour of the day lying in the stream. The ugly girl took her fish-gutting, and sat on the bank, keeping him company.
Eventually the villagers were too ridden with curiosity to stand it any longer. There was a wedding in the village: the ugly girl and her husband were invited. At the wedding, there was music and dancing, and food and wine. As the musicians struck up, the wicker husband and the ugly girl went to dance. The villagers could not help staring: the wicker husband moved so fine. He lifted his dumpy wife like she was nought but a feather, and swung her round and round. He swayed and shimmered; he was elegant, he was graceful. As for the ugly girl: she was in heaven.
The women began to whisper behind their hands. Now, the blacksmith's wife was boldest, and she resolved to ask the wicker husband to dance. When the music paused she went towards the couple. The ugly girl was sitting in the wicker husband's lap, so he creaked a little. The blacksmith's wife was about to tap the wicker husband on the shoulder, but his arms were wrapped round the ugly girl.
< 5 >
'You are the only reason that I live and breathe,' the wicker husband said to his wife.
The blacksmith's wife heard what he said, and went off, sulking. The next day there were many frayed tempers in the village.
'You've got two left feet!' shouted the shoe-maker's wife at her husband.
'You never tell me anything nice!' yelled the blacksmith's wife.
'All you do is look at other women!' shouted the baker's wife, though how she knew was a mystery, as she'd done nothing but stare at the wicker husband all night. The husbands fled their homes and congregated in the tavern.
'T'aint right,' they muttered, 'T'isn't natural.'
'E's showing us up.'
'Painting doors.'
'Fixing thatch.'
'Murmuring sweet nothings.'
'Dancing!' muttered the blacksmith, and they all spat.
'He's not really a man,' muttered the baker. 'An abomination!'
'He don't eat.'
'He don't grumble.'
'He don't even fart,' added the tailor, gloomily.
The men shook their heads, and agreed that it couldn't go on.
Meanwhile the women congregated in each other's kitchens.
'It's not right,' they muttered. 'Why does she deserve him?'
'It's an enchantment,' they whispered. 'She bewitched him.'
'She'll be onto our husbands next, I expect,' said the baker's wife. 'We should be careful.'
'She needs to be brought down a peg or two.'
'Fancies that she's better than the rest of us, I reckon.'
'Flowers in her hair!!'
'Did you see her dancing?'
And they all agreed that it couldn't go on.
One day the wicker husband was on his way back from checking the fish-traps, when he was accosted by the baker.
#7
wsir1963
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:31
Урсула Виллс-Джонс
Плетеный муж
1.
Жила-была дурнушка. Низкая, коренастая, с одной ногой короче, чем другая, со сросшимися бровями. На жизнь она зарабатывала тем, что потрошила рыбу, отчего руки дурно пахли, а платье было всегда покрыто чешуёй. Ни отца, ни матери, ни братьев, ни сестер у неё не было. Жила она в ветхом домишке на окраине деревни. Но дурнушка никогда не жаловалась. Одна за другой деревенские девушки вышли замуж за местных парней. Ступая в церковь, они гордо улыбались. А дурнушка всегда стояла за церковью, глотая соленые слезы. Деревенские женщины недоумевали, что она делала с заработанными деньгами. Ведь дурнушка никогда не покупала себе одежду, её хибаре давно требовался ремонт, и она никогда не посещала местную таверну.
Но вот что произошло. За деревней, у большого влажного болота жил старый корзинщик, прославившийся своими работами. Как-то раз он услышал стук в двери. Открыв, он увидел на пороге дурнушку. В руке она держала шесть золотых монет.
«Я хочу, чтобы вы сплели мне мужа».
«Приходи через месяц»,- ответил мастер.
Просьба дурнушки взволновала корзинщика, он решил сплести ей самого лучшего мужчину, какого смог. И он сделал широкоплечего, длинноногого, со всеми полагающимися мужскими достоинствами, которые не оставят равнодушной ни одну женщину, плетеного красавца. У него были сильные руки, крепкая шея, широкие, красиво очерченные брови, темно-коричневые волосы и глаза цвета лесного ореха.
Наступил день, когда дурнушка вновь постучала в дверь корзинщика.
«Он сказал, что сегодня не приготовился. Завтра в десять он будет в церкви»,- передал старый корзинщик. Дурнушка ушла, и весь день она выскабливала рыбную чешую с платья.
2.
Ночью кто-то постучал в дверь местного портного. Когда портной открыл дверь, то завопил от ужаса.
«Одолжите мне костюм. Я женюсь утром, но не могу же я пойти в церковь голым», - сказал, стоявший на пороге плетеный человек.
«Ааааааааааа!», - продолжал голосить портной и выбежал через черный ход. На крик вышла жена портного.
«Что вы хотите?»
«Одолжите мне костюм. Завтра я женюсь, но я не могу идти на свою свадьбу голым».
Женщина дала ему костюм, её руки при этом дрожали, и быстро захлопнула дверь.
Затем он постучал в дверь деревенского сапожника.
«Аааааааааа!»,- запричитал сапожник и покинул дом через черный ход. Вышла жена сапожника.
«Что вы хотите?»
«Утром у меня свадьба, но не могу же я пойти на свадьбу босиком».
Трясущимися руками женщина передала плетеному человеку пару ботинок и быстро захлопнула дверь.
А плетеный мужчина отправился в деревенскую таверну.
«Дайте мне чего-нибудь выпить. Завтра я женюсь, и мне хотелось бы отпраздновать».
«Аааааааааа!», - теперь голосили хором хозяин гостиницы, клиенты. Толкая друг друга, они выбегали из таверны. Бедняга обошел стойку бара и сам налил спиртное.
Когда дурнушка на следующее утро пришла к церкви, она засияла от счастья, увидев прекрасного, хорошо одетого мужчину.
Вернувшись, домой, чтобы остаться наедине и насладиться первой днем супружеской жизни, плетеный муж сказал:
«Кровать сломана. Принеси мне долото, я починю её».
3.
Дурнушка отправилась на работу, а плетеный муж начал ремонтировать кровать. Вечером, когда она возвратилась, соломенный муж посмотрел на неё и сказал:
«Я хочу быть с тобой».
Во вторую ночь супружеской жизни, плетеный муж сказал:
«У нас прохудилась крыша. Принесешь мне лестницу, я перестелю её»
На следующее утро он поднялся на крышу и стал класть солому, а дурнушка отправилась на работу. Вечером, плетеный муж посмотрел на неё и сказал:
«Без тебя я никогда бы не смог увидеть солнце в воде и облака на небе».
Ночью дурнушка решила сама обратиться с просьбой:
«Дымоход засорился, и огонь совсем не греет…». Лицо плетеного мужа изменилось, он выглядел совершенно испуганным. Дурнушка поняла, что есть вещи, о которых она не может просить, несмотря на трудолюбие мужа.
Деревенские жители стали замечать изменения, происходящие с девушкой. И хотя нога её была по-прежнему короче другой, ее походка изменилась, теперь она шла, плавно покачивая бедрами. И, несмотря на то, что она не очень вкусно пахла, она пела, когда потрошила рыбу. Девушка купила себе новое платье и приколола цветок к волосам. Даже её брови больше не соединялись у переносицы. Плетеный муж выщипал их сильными цепкими пальцами. Проходя мимо дома молодых, жители с удивлением замечали, что домик был по-новому выкрашен, окна искрились чистотой, дверь больше не висела криво. Вы можете подумать, что это понравилось жителям, и они обрадовались за дурнушку?! Нет, совсем нет. Жены начали пилить мужей, что в доме многое требует ремонта, и почему они ничего не хотят делать? Мужья же отвечали, что если бы женщины оделись в новые платья и прикололи цветки к волосам, то возможно у них и возникло бы желание что-нибудь сделать в доме. Они ворчали друг на друга, но тайно, в сердцах, обвиняли во всем дурнушку и её мужа.
4.
Дурнушка не замечала зависти. Она была слишком занята, привыкая к супружеской жизни, и находила, что преимущества мужа перевешивали немногие его несовершенства. Плетеный муж совсем ничего не ел, и, конечно, не жаловался, что обед подан слишком поздно. Он только пил, мог выпить даже грязную воду. Конечно, ей бывало грустно, что она не могла приготовить обед, как для обычного человека и наблюдать за тем как муж ест. Она надеялась, что холодными вечерами они будут сидеть вместе у огня, но плетеный муж предпочитал темноту, подальше от очага. Дурнушка привыкла разговаривать с ним через комнату. Тем временем зима заканчивалась, застучали дожди, напоминая о весне. Плетеный муж немного заплесневел, но девушка почистила его щеткой и промыла уксусом. Наступило лето, июнь выдался очень сухой. Плетеный муж жаловался на ломоту в суставах, и самые жаркие часы проводил в ручье. Дурнушка находилась рядом и чистила рыбу. Сельские жители лопались от любопытства, и тут подвернулся случай.
В деревне готовились к свадьбе. Жители деревни решили пригласить дурнушку и ее мужа. И, конечно, как полагается на свадьбе, была веселая музыка, танцы, много еды и вина. Как только музыканты заиграли, плетеный муж пригласил свою женушку на танец. Жители зачарованно смотрели на пару. Плетеный мужчина двигался настолько прекрасно, а свою далеко не худенькую женушку он поднимал, словно она весила как перышко, и кружил, кружил вместе с ней. Он был весь во власти танца, скользил легко и изящно. Что касается дурнушки: она была на небесах.
Женщины зашептались. Жена кузнеца рискнула первой пригласить плетеного мужчину на танец. Как только музыка перестала играть, она направилась к паре. Дурнушка сидела на коленях у плетеного мужа, и от этого он немного поскрипывал. Женщина постучала плетеного мужчину по плечу, но он был занят своей женой, а руки обнимали её крепкий стан.
5.
«Я живу и дышу благодаря тебе»,- ласково говорил плетеный муж своей женушке.
Жена кузнеца услышала эти слова, в мрачном настроении она вернулась на свое место. На следующий день почти в каждой семье слышались брань и перепалки.
«У тебя две левые ноги! – кричала жена сапожника.
«Ты никогда не говорил мне приятных слов!» - вопила жена кузнеца.
«Ты только и делаешь, что смотришь на других женщин! – причитала жена пекаря. Хотя сама весь вечер не отрывала взгляда от плетеного мужчины.
Мужчины сбежали из домов и собрались в таверне.
« Он не натуральный!» бормотали они.
« Он не естественный!»
« Он осрамил нас!»
« Красит двери!»
«Стелит крышу!»
«Лепечет нежные слова!»
«Танцует!» - бухтел кузнец, и все начали плеваться.
«Он не человек!» - буркнул пекарь.
«Какая мерзость!»
«Он не ест!»
«Он не ругается!»
«Он даже не пукает!» - уныло добавил портной.
Мужчины покачали головами и согласились на том, что так долго продолжаться не может.
Тем временем женщины собрались на кухне у одной из них.
«Это не справедливо!» - ворчали они.
«Почему он достался ей?» - шептали они.
«Она околдовала его!»
«Она может сделать это и с нашими мужьями!» - сказала жена пекаря.
«Мы должны быть осторожными!»
«Мы должны помешать ей!»
«Размечталась, что лучше остальных!»
«Цветы в волосах!»
«Видели, как она танцевала!»
И все согласились, что так долго продолжаться не может.
В один из дней плетеный муж возвращался домой, после того как установил сети, когда к нему обратился пекарь.
Плетеный муж
1.
Жила-была дурнушка. Низкая, коренастая, с одной ногой короче, чем другая, со сросшимися бровями. На жизнь она зарабатывала тем, что потрошила рыбу, отчего руки дурно пахли, а платье было всегда покрыто чешуёй. Ни отца, ни матери, ни братьев, ни сестер у неё не было. Жила она в ветхом домишке на окраине деревни. Но дурнушка никогда не жаловалась. Одна за другой деревенские девушки вышли замуж за местных парней. Ступая в церковь, они гордо улыбались. А дурнушка всегда стояла за церковью, глотая соленые слезы. Деревенские женщины недоумевали, что она делала с заработанными деньгами. Ведь дурнушка никогда не покупала себе одежду, её хибаре давно требовался ремонт, и она никогда не посещала местную таверну.
Но вот что произошло. За деревней, у большого влажного болота жил старый корзинщик, прославившийся своими работами. Как-то раз он услышал стук в двери. Открыв, он увидел на пороге дурнушку. В руке она держала шесть золотых монет.
«Я хочу, чтобы вы сплели мне мужа».
«Приходи через месяц»,- ответил мастер.
Просьба дурнушки взволновала корзинщика, он решил сплести ей самого лучшего мужчину, какого смог. И он сделал широкоплечего, длинноногого, со всеми полагающимися мужскими достоинствами, которые не оставят равнодушной ни одну женщину, плетеного красавца. У него были сильные руки, крепкая шея, широкие, красиво очерченные брови, темно-коричневые волосы и глаза цвета лесного ореха.
Наступил день, когда дурнушка вновь постучала в дверь корзинщика.
«Он сказал, что сегодня не приготовился. Завтра в десять он будет в церкви»,- передал старый корзинщик. Дурнушка ушла, и весь день она выскабливала рыбную чешую с платья.
2.
Ночью кто-то постучал в дверь местного портного. Когда портной открыл дверь, то завопил от ужаса.
«Одолжите мне костюм. Я женюсь утром, но не могу же я пойти в церковь голым», - сказал, стоявший на пороге плетеный человек.
«Ааааааааааа!», - продолжал голосить портной и выбежал через черный ход. На крик вышла жена портного.
«Что вы хотите?»
«Одолжите мне костюм. Завтра я женюсь, но я не могу идти на свою свадьбу голым».
Женщина дала ему костюм, её руки при этом дрожали, и быстро захлопнула дверь.
Затем он постучал в дверь деревенского сапожника.
«Аааааааааа!»,- запричитал сапожник и покинул дом через черный ход. Вышла жена сапожника.
«Что вы хотите?»
«Утром у меня свадьба, но не могу же я пойти на свадьбу босиком».
Трясущимися руками женщина передала плетеному человеку пару ботинок и быстро захлопнула дверь.
А плетеный мужчина отправился в деревенскую таверну.
«Дайте мне чего-нибудь выпить. Завтра я женюсь, и мне хотелось бы отпраздновать».
«Аааааааааа!», - теперь голосили хором хозяин гостиницы, клиенты. Толкая друг друга, они выбегали из таверны. Бедняга обошел стойку бара и сам налил спиртное.
Когда дурнушка на следующее утро пришла к церкви, она засияла от счастья, увидев прекрасного, хорошо одетого мужчину.
Вернувшись, домой, чтобы остаться наедине и насладиться первой днем супружеской жизни, плетеный муж сказал:
«Кровать сломана. Принеси мне долото, я починю её».
3.
Дурнушка отправилась на работу, а плетеный муж начал ремонтировать кровать. Вечером, когда она возвратилась, соломенный муж посмотрел на неё и сказал:
«Я хочу быть с тобой».
Во вторую ночь супружеской жизни, плетеный муж сказал:
«У нас прохудилась крыша. Принесешь мне лестницу, я перестелю её»
На следующее утро он поднялся на крышу и стал класть солому, а дурнушка отправилась на работу. Вечером, плетеный муж посмотрел на неё и сказал:
«Без тебя я никогда бы не смог увидеть солнце в воде и облака на небе».
Ночью дурнушка решила сама обратиться с просьбой:
«Дымоход засорился, и огонь совсем не греет…». Лицо плетеного мужа изменилось, он выглядел совершенно испуганным. Дурнушка поняла, что есть вещи, о которых она не может просить, несмотря на трудолюбие мужа.
Деревенские жители стали замечать изменения, происходящие с девушкой. И хотя нога её была по-прежнему короче другой, ее походка изменилась, теперь она шла, плавно покачивая бедрами. И, несмотря на то, что она не очень вкусно пахла, она пела, когда потрошила рыбу. Девушка купила себе новое платье и приколола цветок к волосам. Даже её брови больше не соединялись у переносицы. Плетеный муж выщипал их сильными цепкими пальцами. Проходя мимо дома молодых, жители с удивлением замечали, что домик был по-новому выкрашен, окна искрились чистотой, дверь больше не висела криво. Вы можете подумать, что это понравилось жителям, и они обрадовались за дурнушку?! Нет, совсем нет. Жены начали пилить мужей, что в доме многое требует ремонта, и почему они ничего не хотят делать? Мужья же отвечали, что если бы женщины оделись в новые платья и прикололи цветки к волосам, то возможно у них и возникло бы желание что-нибудь сделать в доме. Они ворчали друг на друга, но тайно, в сердцах, обвиняли во всем дурнушку и её мужа.
4.
Дурнушка не замечала зависти. Она была слишком занята, привыкая к супружеской жизни, и находила, что преимущества мужа перевешивали немногие его несовершенства. Плетеный муж совсем ничего не ел, и, конечно, не жаловался, что обед подан слишком поздно. Он только пил, мог выпить даже грязную воду. Конечно, ей бывало грустно, что она не могла приготовить обед, как для обычного человека и наблюдать за тем как муж ест. Она надеялась, что холодными вечерами они будут сидеть вместе у огня, но плетеный муж предпочитал темноту, подальше от очага. Дурнушка привыкла разговаривать с ним через комнату. Тем временем зима заканчивалась, застучали дожди, напоминая о весне. Плетеный муж немного заплесневел, но девушка почистила его щеткой и промыла уксусом. Наступило лето, июнь выдался очень сухой. Плетеный муж жаловался на ломоту в суставах, и самые жаркие часы проводил в ручье. Дурнушка находилась рядом и чистила рыбу. Сельские жители лопались от любопытства, и тут подвернулся случай.
В деревне готовились к свадьбе. Жители деревни решили пригласить дурнушку и ее мужа. И, конечно, как полагается на свадьбе, была веселая музыка, танцы, много еды и вина. Как только музыканты заиграли, плетеный муж пригласил свою женушку на танец. Жители зачарованно смотрели на пару. Плетеный мужчина двигался настолько прекрасно, а свою далеко не худенькую женушку он поднимал, словно она весила как перышко, и кружил, кружил вместе с ней. Он был весь во власти танца, скользил легко и изящно. Что касается дурнушки: она была на небесах.
Женщины зашептались. Жена кузнеца рискнула первой пригласить плетеного мужчину на танец. Как только музыка перестала играть, она направилась к паре. Дурнушка сидела на коленях у плетеного мужа, и от этого он немного поскрипывал. Женщина постучала плетеного мужчину по плечу, но он был занят своей женой, а руки обнимали её крепкий стан.
5.
«Я живу и дышу благодаря тебе»,- ласково говорил плетеный муж своей женушке.
Жена кузнеца услышала эти слова, в мрачном настроении она вернулась на свое место. На следующий день почти в каждой семье слышались брань и перепалки.
«У тебя две левые ноги! – кричала жена сапожника.
«Ты никогда не говорил мне приятных слов!» - вопила жена кузнеца.
«Ты только и делаешь, что смотришь на других женщин! – причитала жена пекаря. Хотя сама весь вечер не отрывала взгляда от плетеного мужчины.
Мужчины сбежали из домов и собрались в таверне.
« Он не натуральный!» бормотали они.
« Он не естественный!»
« Он осрамил нас!»
« Красит двери!»
«Стелит крышу!»
«Лепечет нежные слова!»
«Танцует!» - бухтел кузнец, и все начали плеваться.
«Он не человек!» - буркнул пекарь.
«Какая мерзость!»
«Он не ест!»
«Он не ругается!»
«Он даже не пукает!» - уныло добавил портной.
Мужчины покачали головами и согласились на том, что так долго продолжаться не может.
Тем временем женщины собрались на кухне у одной из них.
«Это не справедливо!» - ворчали они.
«Почему он достался ей?» - шептали они.
«Она околдовала его!»
«Она может сделать это и с нашими мужьями!» - сказала жена пекаря.
«Мы должны быть осторожными!»
«Мы должны помешать ей!»
«Размечталась, что лучше остальных!»
«Цветы в волосах!»
«Видели, как она танцевала!»
И все согласились, что так долго продолжаться не может.
В один из дней плетеный муж возвращался домой, после того как установил сети, когда к нему обратился пекарь.
#8
wsir1963
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:42
А вот остальная часть рассказа.Может кому-нибудь захочется поучавствовать.
< 6 >
'Hello,' said the baker. The wicker husband was a little surprised: the baker never bothered to speak to him. 'You made an impression the other night.'
'I did?' said the wicker husband.
'Oh yes,' continued the baker. 'The women are all aflutter. Don't you ever think - well...'
'What?' said the wicker husband, completely confused.
'Man like you,' said the baker. 'Could do well for himself. A lot of opportunities...' He leaned forward, so the wicker husband recoiled. The baker's breath smelt of dough, which he found unpleasant. 'Butcher's wife,' added the baker meaningfully. 'Very taken. I know for a fact that he's not at home. Gone to visit his brother in the city. Why don't you go round?'
'I can't,' said the wicker husband. 'My wife's waiting for me at home.' And he strode off, up the lane. The baker went home, annoyed.
Now the wicker husband, who was too trusting, thought less of this of this than he should, and did not warn his wife that trouble was brewing. About a week later, the ugly girl was picking berries in the hedgerow, when the tailor's wife sidled up. Her own basket was empty, which made the ugly girl suspicious.
'My dear!' cried the tailor's wife, fluttering her hands.
'What d'you want?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife wiped away a fake tear, and looked in both directions. 'My dear,' she whispered. 'I'm only here to warn you. Your husband - he's been seen with other women.'
'What other women?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife fluttered her hands. This wasn't going as she intended. 'My dear, you can't trust men. They're all the same. And you can't expect - a man like him, and a woman like you - frankly -'
The ugly girl was so angry that she hit the tailor's wife with her basket, and ran off, up the lane. The ugly girl went home, and - knowing more of cruelty than her husband did - thought on this too much and too long. But she did not want to upset her husband, so she said nothing.
< 7 >
The tailor's wife came home fuming, with scratches all over her face. That night, the wives and husbands of the village all agreed - for once - that something drastic had to be done.
A few days later the old basket-maker heard a knocking at his door. When he opened it, the villagers stood outside. Right on cue, the tailor's wife began to weep, pitifully.
'What's the matter?' said the old basket-maker.
'She's childless,' said the baker's wife, sniffing.
'Not a son,' said the tailor, sadly.
'Or a daughter.'
'No-one to comfort them in their old age,' added the butcher.
'It's breaking their hearts,' went on the baker.
'So we've come to ask -'
'If you'll make us a baby. Out of wicker.'
And they held out a bag of gold.
'Very well,' said the old basket-maker. 'Come back in a month.'
Well, one dusky day in autumn, the ugly girl was sitting by the fire, when there came a knock at the door. The wicker husband opened it. Outside, stood the villagers. The tailor's wife bore a bundle in her arms, and the bundle began to whimper.
'What's that?' said the ugly girl.
'This is all your fault,' hissed the butcher, pointing at the wicker husband.
'Look what you've done!' shouted the baker.
'It's an abomination,' sneered the inn-keeper. 'Not even human!'
The tailor pulled away the blanket. The ugly girl saw that the baby was made of wicker. It had the same shaped nose, the same green eyes that her husband did.
'Tell me it's not true!' she cried.
But the wicker husband said nothing. He just stared at the baby. He had never seen one of his own kind before, and now - his heart filled up with tenderness. When the ugly girl saw this on his face, a great cloud of bitterness came upon her. She sank to the floor, moaning.
< 8 >
'Filthy, foul, creature!' cried the tailor. 'I should burn it!' He seized the baby, and made to fling it into the blaze. At this, the wicker husband let out a yell. Forward he leapt.
The ugly girl let out a terrible cry. She took the lamp, and flung it straight at her husband. The lamp burst in shards of glass. Oil went everywhere. Flames began to lick at the wicker husband's chest, up his neck, into his face. He tried to beat at the flames, but his fingers grew oily, and burst into fire. Out he ran, shrieking, and plunged into the river.
'Well, that worked well,' said the butcher, in a satisfied manner.
The villagers did not spare a second glance for the ugly girl, but went home again to their dinners. On the way, the tailor's wife threw the wicker baby in the ditch. She stamped on its face. 'Ugh,' she said. 'Horrible thing.'
The next day the ugly girl wandered the highways, weeping, her face smeared in ashes.
'Have you seen my husband?' she asked passing travellers, but they saw madness in her eyes, and spurred their horses on. Dusk fell. Stumbling home, scarce knowing where she was, the ugly girl heard a sound in the ditch. Kneeling, she found the wicker baby. It wailed and thrashed, and held up its hands. The ugly girl saw in its face her husband's eyes, and her husband's nose. She coddled it to her chest and took it home.
Now, the old basket maker knew nothing of all this. One day, the old man took it into his head to see how his creations were faring. He walked into town, and knocked on the tailor's door. The wife answered.
'How is the baby?' he said.
'Oh that,' she said. 'It died.' And she shut the door in his face. The old basket-maker walked on, till he came to the ugly girl's place. The door was closed, the garden untended, and dirt smeared the windows. The old basket-maker knocked on the door. No-one answered, though he waited a very long time.
< 9 >
The old-basket maker went home, disheartened. He was walking the long dark road into the swamp, when he heard something in the rushes. At first he was afraid: he wrapped his scarf closer round his face. But the thing seemed to follow him. From time to time, it groaned.
'Who's there?' called the old man.
Out onto the roadway staggered the most broken and bedraggled, the most pathetic and pitiful thing. The old basket-maker stared at what was left of the wicker husband: his hands consumed by fire, his face equally gone. Dark pits of scorched wood marred his chest. Where he had burnt, he had started to rot.
'What have they done to my children?' cried the old basket-maker.
The wicker husband said nothing: he had lost his tongue.
The old basket-maker took the wicker husband home. As daylight came, the old basket-maker sat down to repair him. But as he worked, his heart grew hot with anger.
'I made you, but I failed you,' he said. 'I will not send you there again.'
Eventually, the wicker husband looked as good as new, though the smell of burning still clung. But as the days passed, a damp black mould began to grow on him. The old basket-maker pulled out the rotting withies and replaced them. But it seemed useless: the wicker husband rotted from the inside, outwards.
At last, the old basket-maker saw there was nothing else to be done. He took up his travelling cloak, set out at night, and passed through the village. He came to the ugly girl's house. In the garden, wreathed in filth, stood the ugly girl, cuddling a child. She was singing the saddest lullaby he had ever heard. The old basket-maker saw that the child was the one he'd made, and his heart softened a little. He stepped out of the shadows.
'Why do you keep the baby,' he said, 'when you cast your husband from home?'
The ugly girl cried out, to hear someone speak to her.
< 10 >
'It is all I have left of my husband,' she said at last. 'Though it is proof he betrayed me, I could not leave it in the ditch to die.'
'You are a fool,' he said. 'It was I that made the child. Your husband is innocent.'
At this, the ugly girl let out a cry, and ran towards the river. But old basket-maker caught her arm. 'Wait - I have something to show you,' he said.
The ugly girl walked behind him, through the swamp where the water sucked and burbled, carrying the baby. As the sun rose, she saw that its features were only those of the old basket-maker, who, like any maker, had passed down his face to his creations.
When they came to the dwelling, the ugly girl opened the door, and saw her husband, sitting in darkness.
'It cannot be you,' she said. 'You are dead. I know: I killed you myself.'
'I was made for you alone,' said the wicker husband, 'But you threw me away.'
The ugly girl let out a cry so loud, birds surfaced from the marches for miles around, and threw herself at her husband's feet.
A few days later, the villagers were surprised to see the old basket-maker standing outside the church.
'I have something to say,' he said. 'Soon I will retire. But first, I am making my masterwork - a woman made of wicker. If you want her, you can have her. But you must bring me a gift for my retirement. Whoever brings me the best gift can have the wicker woman.'
Then he turned round and went back to the swamp.
Behind him, the villagers began to whisper. Hadn't the wicker husband been tall and graceful? Hadn't he been a hard worker? Hadn't he been handsome, and eager to please his wife?
Next day, the entire village denied any interest in the wicker lady, but secretly began to plan. Men eyed up prize cows; women sneaked open jewellery boxes.
< 11 >
'That wicker husband worked like a slave, and never even ate,' said the shoe-maker's wife to her husband. 'Get me the wicker woman as a servant, I'll live like a lady, never lift a finger.'
'That wicker husband never quarrelled with anyone, never even raised his voice. Not like you, you old fishwife,' the inn-keeper said to his wife.
'That wicker husband never tired, and never had a headache,' said the butcher to the baker. 'Imagine...!'
'Lend me a shilling, cousin,' said the shoe-maker's wife. 'I need a new petticoat.'
'I can't,' lied the blacksmith's wife. 'I spent it on medicine. The child was very sick.'
'I need that back-rent you owe me,' said the butcher, who owned the tailor's house.
'Been a very bad season in the tailoring trade,' muttered the tailor. 'You'll get it soon.'
The butcher went into town, hired a lawyer, and got the tailor evicted from his house. The tailor and his wife had to go and live in the shoe-maker's shed.
'But what are you going to do with the empty house?' asked the butcher's wife.
'Nothing,' said the butcher, who thought the place would do admirably to keep a mistress. The butcher's wife and the tailor's wife had a fight in the market, and went home with black eyes. In the tavern, no-one spoke, but only eyed each other, suspiciously. The lawyer was still in town. Rumour had it that the tailor's wife was suing for divorce: the inn-keeper's wife had her husband arrested after she found the stairs had been greased. In short, the fields went uncut, the cows went unmilked, ovens uncleaned: the village was obsessed.
When the day came, the old basket-maker came to town, and sat on the churchyard wall. The villagers brought their gifts. First the tailor, who'd made a luxurious coat. Next the miller, bringing twelve sacks of grain. The baker made the most extravagant cake; the carpenter brought a table and chairs, the carter a good strong horse. The blacksmith's wife staggered up with a cheese the size of a millwheel. Her cousin, the tailor's wife, arrived with a bag of gold.
< 12 >
'Where d'you get that, wife?' said her husband, amazed.
'Never you mind,' she snapped.
The inn-keeper's wife wasn't there: she'd slipped while climbing the stairs.
Last to come was the butcher. He'd really outdone the others: two oxen, four cows, and a dozen sheep.
The old-basket maker looked around him. 'Well,' he said. 'I think the prize goes to... the butcher. I'll just take these and be back, with the wicker lady.'
The butcher was so pleased, spittle ran from his mouth.
'Can I have my grain back?' said the miller.
'No no,' said the old man. 'That wasn't the bargain.' And he began to load all the goods onto the horse. The villagers would have fallen on each other, fighting, but they were so desperate to see the wicker lady, they just stood there, to wait.
It was dusk by the time the basket-maker returned. The wicker woman was seated on the horse, shrouded in a cloak, veiled like a bride. From under the cloak, white flowers fell. As she passed the villagers, a most marvellous smell drifted down.
The butcher stood outside the tailor's old house. He'd locked his wife in the coal cellar in preparation.
The old basket-maker held out a hand, and helped the lady dismount. The butcher smelt her fragrance. From under the veil, he thought he saw her give him a saucy glance. He was so excited, he hopped from foot to foot.
The wicker lady lifted her veil: she took off her cloak. The butcher stared at her. The wicker lady was short of stature and twisted of limb, her face was dark and rough. But worse than that - from head to foot, she was covered in thorns.
'What have you done?' shrieked the butcher.
'Ah,' said the old basket-maker. 'The wicker husband was made of willow. Willow is the kindest of trees: tall, elegant, pliable, of much assistance in easing pain. But I saw that you did not like him. Therefore I made you the wicker lady from blackthorn. Blackthorn is cold, hard, and thorny - it will not be killed, either by fire or frost.'
< 13 >
The villagers would have fallen on the old basket-maker there and then, had not the wicker lady stepped forward. She seized hold of the butcher and reached up to kiss him. The butcher let out a howl. When he pulled his lips away, they were shredded and tattered: blood ran down his chin. Then, with a bang, the butcher's wife broke out of the coal cellar, and ran down the road. Seeing the wicker lady kissing her husband, she screamed, and fell on her. The two of them rolled in the gutter, howling and scratching.
Just then, the lawyer piped up. 'Didn't you check the details first?' he said. 'It's very important. You should always check the small print.'
The men of the village took their butcher's knives and pitchforks and tailoring shears, and chased the lawyer out of town. When they'd run out of breath, they stopped.
'That old fraud the basket-maker,' said the baker. 'He tricked us.'
So they turned round and began to go back in the other direction, on the road into the swamp. In the darkness they stumbled and squelched, lost their way and nearly drowned. It was light by the time they came to the old basket-maker's dwelling, but the old basket-maker, the wicker husband, the ugly girl and the baby, as well as all the villagers' goods, had already upped, and gone.
< 6 >
'Hello,' said the baker. The wicker husband was a little surprised: the baker never bothered to speak to him. 'You made an impression the other night.'
'I did?' said the wicker husband.
'Oh yes,' continued the baker. 'The women are all aflutter. Don't you ever think - well...'
'What?' said the wicker husband, completely confused.
'Man like you,' said the baker. 'Could do well for himself. A lot of opportunities...' He leaned forward, so the wicker husband recoiled. The baker's breath smelt of dough, which he found unpleasant. 'Butcher's wife,' added the baker meaningfully. 'Very taken. I know for a fact that he's not at home. Gone to visit his brother in the city. Why don't you go round?'
'I can't,' said the wicker husband. 'My wife's waiting for me at home.' And he strode off, up the lane. The baker went home, annoyed.
Now the wicker husband, who was too trusting, thought less of this of this than he should, and did not warn his wife that trouble was brewing. About a week later, the ugly girl was picking berries in the hedgerow, when the tailor's wife sidled up. Her own basket was empty, which made the ugly girl suspicious.
'My dear!' cried the tailor's wife, fluttering her hands.
'What d'you want?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife wiped away a fake tear, and looked in both directions. 'My dear,' she whispered. 'I'm only here to warn you. Your husband - he's been seen with other women.'
'What other women?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife fluttered her hands. This wasn't going as she intended. 'My dear, you can't trust men. They're all the same. And you can't expect - a man like him, and a woman like you - frankly -'
The ugly girl was so angry that she hit the tailor's wife with her basket, and ran off, up the lane. The ugly girl went home, and - knowing more of cruelty than her husband did - thought on this too much and too long. But she did not want to upset her husband, so she said nothing.
< 7 >
The tailor's wife came home fuming, with scratches all over her face. That night, the wives and husbands of the village all agreed - for once - that something drastic had to be done.
A few days later the old basket-maker heard a knocking at his door. When he opened it, the villagers stood outside. Right on cue, the tailor's wife began to weep, pitifully.
'What's the matter?' said the old basket-maker.
'She's childless,' said the baker's wife, sniffing.
'Not a son,' said the tailor, sadly.
'Or a daughter.'
'No-one to comfort them in their old age,' added the butcher.
'It's breaking their hearts,' went on the baker.
'So we've come to ask -'
'If you'll make us a baby. Out of wicker.'
And they held out a bag of gold.
'Very well,' said the old basket-maker. 'Come back in a month.'
Well, one dusky day in autumn, the ugly girl was sitting by the fire, when there came a knock at the door. The wicker husband opened it. Outside, stood the villagers. The tailor's wife bore a bundle in her arms, and the bundle began to whimper.
'What's that?' said the ugly girl.
'This is all your fault,' hissed the butcher, pointing at the wicker husband.
'Look what you've done!' shouted the baker.
'It's an abomination,' sneered the inn-keeper. 'Not even human!'
The tailor pulled away the blanket. The ugly girl saw that the baby was made of wicker. It had the same shaped nose, the same green eyes that her husband did.
'Tell me it's not true!' she cried.
But the wicker husband said nothing. He just stared at the baby. He had never seen one of his own kind before, and now - his heart filled up with tenderness. When the ugly girl saw this on his face, a great cloud of bitterness came upon her. She sank to the floor, moaning.
< 8 >
'Filthy, foul, creature!' cried the tailor. 'I should burn it!' He seized the baby, and made to fling it into the blaze. At this, the wicker husband let out a yell. Forward he leapt.
The ugly girl let out a terrible cry. She took the lamp, and flung it straight at her husband. The lamp burst in shards of glass. Oil went everywhere. Flames began to lick at the wicker husband's chest, up his neck, into his face. He tried to beat at the flames, but his fingers grew oily, and burst into fire. Out he ran, shrieking, and plunged into the river.
'Well, that worked well,' said the butcher, in a satisfied manner.
The villagers did not spare a second glance for the ugly girl, but went home again to their dinners. On the way, the tailor's wife threw the wicker baby in the ditch. She stamped on its face. 'Ugh,' she said. 'Horrible thing.'
The next day the ugly girl wandered the highways, weeping, her face smeared in ashes.
'Have you seen my husband?' she asked passing travellers, but they saw madness in her eyes, and spurred their horses on. Dusk fell. Stumbling home, scarce knowing where she was, the ugly girl heard a sound in the ditch. Kneeling, she found the wicker baby. It wailed and thrashed, and held up its hands. The ugly girl saw in its face her husband's eyes, and her husband's nose. She coddled it to her chest and took it home.
Now, the old basket maker knew nothing of all this. One day, the old man took it into his head to see how his creations were faring. He walked into town, and knocked on the tailor's door. The wife answered.
'How is the baby?' he said.
'Oh that,' she said. 'It died.' And she shut the door in his face. The old basket-maker walked on, till he came to the ugly girl's place. The door was closed, the garden untended, and dirt smeared the windows. The old basket-maker knocked on the door. No-one answered, though he waited a very long time.
< 9 >
The old-basket maker went home, disheartened. He was walking the long dark road into the swamp, when he heard something in the rushes. At first he was afraid: he wrapped his scarf closer round his face. But the thing seemed to follow him. From time to time, it groaned.
'Who's there?' called the old man.
Out onto the roadway staggered the most broken and bedraggled, the most pathetic and pitiful thing. The old basket-maker stared at what was left of the wicker husband: his hands consumed by fire, his face equally gone. Dark pits of scorched wood marred his chest. Where he had burnt, he had started to rot.
'What have they done to my children?' cried the old basket-maker.
The wicker husband said nothing: he had lost his tongue.
The old basket-maker took the wicker husband home. As daylight came, the old basket-maker sat down to repair him. But as he worked, his heart grew hot with anger.
'I made you, but I failed you,' he said. 'I will not send you there again.'
Eventually, the wicker husband looked as good as new, though the smell of burning still clung. But as the days passed, a damp black mould began to grow on him. The old basket-maker pulled out the rotting withies and replaced them. But it seemed useless: the wicker husband rotted from the inside, outwards.
At last, the old basket-maker saw there was nothing else to be done. He took up his travelling cloak, set out at night, and passed through the village. He came to the ugly girl's house. In the garden, wreathed in filth, stood the ugly girl, cuddling a child. She was singing the saddest lullaby he had ever heard. The old basket-maker saw that the child was the one he'd made, and his heart softened a little. He stepped out of the shadows.
'Why do you keep the baby,' he said, 'when you cast your husband from home?'
The ugly girl cried out, to hear someone speak to her.
< 10 >
'It is all I have left of my husband,' she said at last. 'Though it is proof he betrayed me, I could not leave it in the ditch to die.'
'You are a fool,' he said. 'It was I that made the child. Your husband is innocent.'
At this, the ugly girl let out a cry, and ran towards the river. But old basket-maker caught her arm. 'Wait - I have something to show you,' he said.
The ugly girl walked behind him, through the swamp where the water sucked and burbled, carrying the baby. As the sun rose, she saw that its features were only those of the old basket-maker, who, like any maker, had passed down his face to his creations.
When they came to the dwelling, the ugly girl opened the door, and saw her husband, sitting in darkness.
'It cannot be you,' she said. 'You are dead. I know: I killed you myself.'
'I was made for you alone,' said the wicker husband, 'But you threw me away.'
The ugly girl let out a cry so loud, birds surfaced from the marches for miles around, and threw herself at her husband's feet.
A few days later, the villagers were surprised to see the old basket-maker standing outside the church.
'I have something to say,' he said. 'Soon I will retire. But first, I am making my masterwork - a woman made of wicker. If you want her, you can have her. But you must bring me a gift for my retirement. Whoever brings me the best gift can have the wicker woman.'
Then he turned round and went back to the swamp.
Behind him, the villagers began to whisper. Hadn't the wicker husband been tall and graceful? Hadn't he been a hard worker? Hadn't he been handsome, and eager to please his wife?
Next day, the entire village denied any interest in the wicker lady, but secretly began to plan. Men eyed up prize cows; women sneaked open jewellery boxes.
< 11 >
'That wicker husband worked like a slave, and never even ate,' said the shoe-maker's wife to her husband. 'Get me the wicker woman as a servant, I'll live like a lady, never lift a finger.'
'That wicker husband never quarrelled with anyone, never even raised his voice. Not like you, you old fishwife,' the inn-keeper said to his wife.
'That wicker husband never tired, and never had a headache,' said the butcher to the baker. 'Imagine...!'
'Lend me a shilling, cousin,' said the shoe-maker's wife. 'I need a new petticoat.'
'I can't,' lied the blacksmith's wife. 'I spent it on medicine. The child was very sick.'
'I need that back-rent you owe me,' said the butcher, who owned the tailor's house.
'Been a very bad season in the tailoring trade,' muttered the tailor. 'You'll get it soon.'
The butcher went into town, hired a lawyer, and got the tailor evicted from his house. The tailor and his wife had to go and live in the shoe-maker's shed.
'But what are you going to do with the empty house?' asked the butcher's wife.
'Nothing,' said the butcher, who thought the place would do admirably to keep a mistress. The butcher's wife and the tailor's wife had a fight in the market, and went home with black eyes. In the tavern, no-one spoke, but only eyed each other, suspiciously. The lawyer was still in town. Rumour had it that the tailor's wife was suing for divorce: the inn-keeper's wife had her husband arrested after she found the stairs had been greased. In short, the fields went uncut, the cows went unmilked, ovens uncleaned: the village was obsessed.
When the day came, the old basket-maker came to town, and sat on the churchyard wall. The villagers brought their gifts. First the tailor, who'd made a luxurious coat. Next the miller, bringing twelve sacks of grain. The baker made the most extravagant cake; the carpenter brought a table and chairs, the carter a good strong horse. The blacksmith's wife staggered up with a cheese the size of a millwheel. Her cousin, the tailor's wife, arrived with a bag of gold.
< 12 >
'Where d'you get that, wife?' said her husband, amazed.
'Never you mind,' she snapped.
The inn-keeper's wife wasn't there: she'd slipped while climbing the stairs.
Last to come was the butcher. He'd really outdone the others: two oxen, four cows, and a dozen sheep.
The old-basket maker looked around him. 'Well,' he said. 'I think the prize goes to... the butcher. I'll just take these and be back, with the wicker lady.'
The butcher was so pleased, spittle ran from his mouth.
'Can I have my grain back?' said the miller.
'No no,' said the old man. 'That wasn't the bargain.' And he began to load all the goods onto the horse. The villagers would have fallen on each other, fighting, but they were so desperate to see the wicker lady, they just stood there, to wait.
It was dusk by the time the basket-maker returned. The wicker woman was seated on the horse, shrouded in a cloak, veiled like a bride. From under the cloak, white flowers fell. As she passed the villagers, a most marvellous smell drifted down.
The butcher stood outside the tailor's old house. He'd locked his wife in the coal cellar in preparation.
The old basket-maker held out a hand, and helped the lady dismount. The butcher smelt her fragrance. From under the veil, he thought he saw her give him a saucy glance. He was so excited, he hopped from foot to foot.
The wicker lady lifted her veil: she took off her cloak. The butcher stared at her. The wicker lady was short of stature and twisted of limb, her face was dark and rough. But worse than that - from head to foot, she was covered in thorns.
'What have you done?' shrieked the butcher.
'Ah,' said the old basket-maker. 'The wicker husband was made of willow. Willow is the kindest of trees: tall, elegant, pliable, of much assistance in easing pain. But I saw that you did not like him. Therefore I made you the wicker lady from blackthorn. Blackthorn is cold, hard, and thorny - it will not be killed, either by fire or frost.'
< 13 >
The villagers would have fallen on the old basket-maker there and then, had not the wicker lady stepped forward. She seized hold of the butcher and reached up to kiss him. The butcher let out a howl. When he pulled his lips away, they were shredded and tattered: blood ran down his chin. Then, with a bang, the butcher's wife broke out of the coal cellar, and ran down the road. Seeing the wicker lady kissing her husband, she screamed, and fell on her. The two of them rolled in the gutter, howling and scratching.
Just then, the lawyer piped up. 'Didn't you check the details first?' he said. 'It's very important. You should always check the small print.'
The men of the village took their butcher's knives and pitchforks and tailoring shears, and chased the lawyer out of town. When they'd run out of breath, they stopped.
'That old fraud the basket-maker,' said the baker. 'He tricked us.'
So they turned round and began to go back in the other direction, on the road into the swamp. In the darkness they stumbled and squelched, lost their way and nearly drowned. It was light by the time they came to the old basket-maker's dwelling, but the old basket-maker, the wicker husband, the ugly girl and the baby, as well as all the villagers' goods, had already upped, and gone.
#9
Tela
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 00:47
я в этом ничегошеньки не смыслю
Независимость - это возможность послать того, кого считаешь нужным, тогда, когда считаешь нужным, туда, куда считаешь нужным.
я не solia - я хитрее
я не solia - я хитрее
#10
wsir1963
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Отправлено 11 февраля 2009 - 16:06
Цитата
'Hello,' said the baker. The wicker husband was a little surprised: the baker never bothered to speak to him. 'You made an impression the other night.'
'I did?' said the wicker husband.
'Oh yes,' continued the baker. 'The women are all aflutter. Don't you ever think - well...'
'What?' said the wicker husband, completely confused.
'Man like you,' said the baker. 'Could do well for himself. A lot of opportunities...' He leaned forward, so the wicker husband recoiled. The baker's breath smelt of dough, which he found unpleasant. 'Butcher's wife,' added the baker meaningfully. 'Very taken. I know for a fact that he's not at home. Gone to visit his brother in the city. Why don't you go round?'
'I can't,' said the wicker husband. 'My wife's waiting for me at home.' And he strode off, up the lane. The baker went home, annoyed.
Now the wicker husband, who was too trusting, thought less of this of this than he should, and did not warn his wife that trouble was brewing. About a week later, the ugly girl was picking berries in the hedgerow, when the tailor's wife sidled up. Her own basket was empty, which made the ugly girl suspicious.
'My dear!' cried the tailor's wife, fluttering her hands.
'What d'you want?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife wiped away a fake tear, and looked in both directions. 'My dear,' she whispered. 'I'm only here to warn you. Your husband - he's been seen with other women.'
'What other women?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife fluttered her hands. This wasn't going as she intended. 'My dear, you can't trust men. They're all the same. And you can't expect - a man like him, and a woman like you - frankly -'
The ugly girl was so angry that she hit the tailor's wife with her basket, and ran off, up the lane. The ugly girl went home, and - knowing more of cruelty than her husband did - thought on this too much and too long. But she did not want to upset her husband, so she said nothing.
'I did?' said the wicker husband.
'Oh yes,' continued the baker. 'The women are all aflutter. Don't you ever think - well...'
'What?' said the wicker husband, completely confused.
'Man like you,' said the baker. 'Could do well for himself. A lot of opportunities...' He leaned forward, so the wicker husband recoiled. The baker's breath smelt of dough, which he found unpleasant. 'Butcher's wife,' added the baker meaningfully. 'Very taken. I know for a fact that he's not at home. Gone to visit his brother in the city. Why don't you go round?'
'I can't,' said the wicker husband. 'My wife's waiting for me at home.' And he strode off, up the lane. The baker went home, annoyed.
Now the wicker husband, who was too trusting, thought less of this of this than he should, and did not warn his wife that trouble was brewing. About a week later, the ugly girl was picking berries in the hedgerow, when the tailor's wife sidled up. Her own basket was empty, which made the ugly girl suspicious.
'My dear!' cried the tailor's wife, fluttering her hands.
'What d'you want?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife wiped away a fake tear, and looked in both directions. 'My dear,' she whispered. 'I'm only here to warn you. Your husband - he's been seen with other women.'
'What other women?' said the ugly girl.
The tailor's wife fluttered her hands. This wasn't going as she intended. 'My dear, you can't trust men. They're all the same. And you can't expect - a man like him, and a woman like you - frankly -'
The ugly girl was so angry that she hit the tailor's wife with her basket, and ran off, up the lane. The ugly girl went home, and - knowing more of cruelty than her husband did - thought on this too much and too long. But she did not want to upset her husband, so she said nothing.
6.
«Привет!»
Плетеный муж немного удивился, так как пекарь раньше никогда даже не заговаривал с ним.
«Ты произвел впечатление вчера».
«Разве?»
«Да!» - продолжал пекарь.
«Всех женщин взволновал. А ты не думал даже об этом…»
«Что?» плетеный муж был совершенно смущен.
«Такой человек как ты мог бы преуспеть. Много возможностей…»
Пекарь склонился к плетеному мужчине. От него пахло тестом, что заставило плетеного мужа отпрянуть. Он нашел запах очень неприятным.
«Жена мясника», - добавил пекарь со значением. «Очень заинтересована. И я знаю, что мясника сейчас нет дома. Он уехал к брату в город. Почему бы тебе не сходить к ней?»
«Это невозможно. Меня ждет жена». - И он зашагал прочь, свернув в переулок.
Раздраженному пекарю ничего не осталось, как вернуться домой.
Плетеный муж, который был слишком доверчив, забыл думать об этом случае. Он не предупредил жену, в тот момент она варила пиво.
Прошла неделя. Дурнушка собирала ягоды на поляне, когда к ней незаметно приблизилась жена портного. Ее корзина была пуста, а руки от волнения дрожали. Дурнушка заподозрила неладное.
«Моя дорогая» - жалостливо вскрикнула жена портного.
«Что Вам надо от меня?»
Жена портного вытирала поддельные слезы и оглядывалась по сторонам.
«Милая», - прошептала она. «Я должна предупредить тебя. Твоего мужа видели с другими женщинами».
«Что, с другими женщинами?» - громко переспросила дурнушка.
Жена портного замахала руками. Все шло не так, как она задумала.
«Моя дорогая, не доверяй мужчинам. Они все одинаковые. И что такая открытая женщина как ты может ждать от такого человека как он».
Дурнушка была вне себя от злости. Она не удержалась и треснула жену портного корзиной.
Дурнушка вернулась домой, она знала, что её муж не совершил на самом деле такой бездушный поступок. Девушка не стала расстраивать его, ничего не сказав.
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