My sister loved me best of all;
‘Well,’ said little Marleen, ‘I will go out too and see if the bird will
give me anything.’
So she went out.
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
and he threw down the shoes to her,
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’
And she now felt quite happy and lighthearted; she put on the shoes and
danced and jumped about in them. ‘I was so miserable,’ she said, ‘when I
came out, but that has all passed away; that is indeed a splendid bird,
and he has given me a pair of red shoes.’
The wife sprang up, with her hair standing out from her head like flames
of fire. ‘Then I will go out too,’ she said, ‘and see if it will lighten
my misery, for I feel as if the world were coming to an end.’
But as she crossed the threshold, crash! the bird threw the millstone
down on her head, and she was crushed to death.
The father and little Marleen heard the sound and ran out, but they only
saw mist and flame and fire rising from the spot, and when these had
passed, there stood the little brother, and he took the father and
little Marleen by the hand; then they all three rejoiced, and went
inside together and sat down to their dinners and ate.
THE TURNIP
There were two brothers who were both soldiers; the one was rich and
the other poor. The poor man thought he would try to better himself; so,
pulling off his red coat, he became a gardener, and dug his ground well,
and sowed turnips.
When the seed came up, there was one plant bigger than all the rest; and
it kept getting larger and larger, and seemed as if it would never cease
growing; so that it might have been called the prince of turnips for
there never was such a one seen before, and never will again. At last it
was so big that it filled a cart, and two oxen could hardly draw it; and
the gardener knew not what in the world to do with it, nor whether it
would be a blessing or a curse to him. One day he said to himself, ‘What
shall I do with it? if I sell it, it will bring no more than another;
and for eating, the little turnips are better than this; the best thing
perhaps is to carry it and give it to the king as a mark of respect.’
Then he yoked his oxen, and drew the turnip to the court, and gave it
to the king. ‘What a wonderful thing!’ said the king; ‘I have seen many
strange things, but such a monster as this I never saw. Where did you
get the seed? or is it only your good luck? If so, you are a true child
of fortune.’ ‘Ah, no!’ answered the gardener, ‘I am no child of fortune;
I am a poor soldier, who never could get enough to live upon; so I
laid aside my red coat, and set to work, tilling the ground. I have a
brother, who is rich, and your majesty knows him well, and all the world
knows him; but because I am poor, everybody forgets me.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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