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The Lullaby Tales

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Автор: Любовь Талимонова
Жанр: Сказки

 

 


Lyubov Talimonova

The Lullaby Tales

Translated from the Russian original by David Parfitt

© L. Talimonova, text, illustrations, design


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.





Uncle Moon



Night came and threw her shawl across the sky, and so the world became dark. The stars came out of their little houses and settled across the whole sky. Some stars gathered themselves into constellations while others scattered like diamonds across the Night’s shawl. Big stars and little stars played in the sky, drank tea together and chatted.

And then Uncle Moon rose from behind the mountains and began to make his rounds, making sure that everything was peaceful and quiet in the heavenly kingdom. As Uncle Moon walked, leaning on his staff, the little bells on it rang out: ding-ding, ding-ding. After the Moon had finished his walk he became very tired, so he climbed into the middle of the sky and sat down to rest. Laying his staff down beside him, he twirled his moustache, gazed round at the world and began to sing a song to himself.

The big stars and the little stars stretched themselves towards Uncle Moon, gathered around him in the middle of the sky and began to sing happy songs. And so the bright stars sang with the Moon till morning when Dawn came. And then Dawn cast the Night’s shawl down onto the Earth and began to shine across the whole sky.

The Beautiful Valley



Once upon a time there was a Beautiful Valley. She was surrounded by mountains on all sides. If the biting cold Wind blew from the north then the mountains protected the Valley from his cold touch. If the hot dusty Wind rose up in the east, the forests that grew on the mountainsides cooled the East Wind down and brought him to rest on the warm slopes. The stubborn West Wind tried again and again to break through to the Valley, but each time the powerful mountains with their solid, immovable peaks stood in his path. And as the West Wind battled with the mountains he lost his strength and poured rain over the rocky cliffs and ravines.

But there was also another wind – neither hot nor cold, neither strong nor stubborn, but warm, fresh and pleasant. This was the South Wind that came in Spring. He never quarrelled with the mountains, and when he wanted to see the Beautiful Valley he simply blew in, knocked on the gates and the mountains opened up and made way for him. The South Wind courteously nodded his head towards the old mountains and rushed between them to meet the Beautiful Valley. Then he sat down right at her feet, took out a little flute from his pocket and began to play wonderful sweet melodies that he had picked up from all over the world.

The whole Valley simply blossomed at the sound of such beautiful music. Her eyes became even brighter, a rosy flush spread across her cheeks, and the rivers formed by the plaits of her hair flowed even faster. When the melodies stopped, the mountains picked up the echo of the music and held it in the air so that the music rang out even longer in the sky.

Then the South Wind rose up, took off his little hat and with a bow he invited the Beautiful Valley to dance. The Beautiful Valley never refused him a dance because she loved the kind, gentle Wind. While the Valley and the Wind danced, everything around became happy along with them and the flowers and trees burst into blossom.

When evening came the South Wind said goodbye to the Valley. He took off his little hat and bowed once more, and the Beautiful Valley lowered her eyes, blushed in the rays of the setting sun, and with a sigh waved her handkerchief after the departing Wind. The kind old mountains also sighed softly and whispered to one another: “So when will the wedding be?”

The Mist



Night left the Earth and went to wake the Morning. The fresh, bright Morning stirred and smiled at the Sun, and then he took a basket of little dew-drops and went to wake the New Day and everything else in the world.

And at the bottom of a deep valley the Mist slept, rolled up tight into a ball above a marsh. When Morning passed by he lit up the edges of the valley. The Mist opened his eyes and sighed, before falling sound asleep again.

And when the New Day came into the world, he peeped with his sunny eye into the very bottom of the valley where the Mist was sleeping. The Mist opened his eyes again, sat up with a yawn and stretched, before spreading himself out across the whole valley.

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