Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta springtime garden. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta springtime garden. Mostrar todas las entradas

martes, 1 de mayo de 2018

CUENTOS PRIMAVERALES DE ANNA KELLER

La niña de la caja de cristal


En nuestro pueblo vivía una maravillosa y pequeña muchacha. Era tan delicada que su preocupada madre la encerró en una caja de cristal. Esta caja debía proteger a la niña del viento y de la lluvia, de la enfermedad y de todo peligro. Ni el menor polvillo podía tocar su blanco vestido, ninguna palabrota ofender su oído. La buena madre quería proteger a su hijita de toda la maldad del mundo.
La caja de cristal estaba montada sobre cuatro ruedas, y de esta manera se podía sacar también al jardín. En éste la niña podía contemplar, a través de los cristales de su casita, las flores; alegrarse cuando las aves cantaban y los niños brincaban alegremente. Ella, en cambio, estaba sentada inmóvil en su sillita; estaba delicada, y de día en día se volvía más pálida.
La madre no perdía de vista ni por un momento la caja de cristal. Pero un día tuvo que alejarse de la casa por un par de horas. Entonces penetró por los cristales un pequeño duende y le dijo solamente:
-¡Jujujui!
Como un latigazo sobre un caballo, este grito hizo estremecerse a la niña encerrada en la caja de cristal. Sus ojos se movieron a derecha e izquierda, hacia arriba y hacia abajo, y lo que vieron a su alrededor era alegría y vida.
Afuera reinaba el otoño, y el viento celebraba una fiesta. El viento invitó a ésta a cien mil huéspedes: a todas las hojas pardas, rojas y amarillas de los árboles.
-¡Vengan! -les gritó-. ¡Vamos a bailar!
Las hojas saltaron de las ramas y danzaron. Danzaban solas y en parejas, y danzaban también en grandes corros. Vinieron los niños de la calle y danzaron también alegres con ellas.
Entonces la pequeña niña olvidó que estaba tan delicada que ningún viento ni lluvia ni polvo podían tocarla, ni podía oír ninguna palabrota. Sin poder contenerse, gritó:
-¡Espérenme, voy también con ustedes!
Pero las puertas de la casita de cristal estaban cerradas. Fue inútil que las sacudiera y tirara de ellas.
-¡Ábranme! -rogó la niña.
Al oír sus gritos, todos los niños cesaron de danzar y rodearon la pequeña casita de cristal; pero nadie la supo abrir pese a sus esfuerzos.
Entonces vino el viento. Éste no trató de levantar el pestillo. Sacudió e hizo estremecer toda la casita de vidrio. Y, finalmente, hizo sencillamente: ¡Plaf!, golpeando con sus fuertes puños contra los cristales. ¡Oh, cuán alegre sonó! La casita de cristal quedó rota, y la pequeña prisionera salió de un brinco de su interior.
¡Qué maravilloso era el aire allí afuera! ¡Y cuán grande y amplio era el mundo! Allí se podía danzar. Las hojas danzaban, los niños danzaban. Los delantales y las faldas y las cabelleras danzaban, y, más alegre que ninguno, danzaba también el corazón de la niña. El viento silbaba una cancioncilla, y los niños gritaban jubilosos de alegría.
De repente apareció la madre. Al ver a la niña fuera de la casita, juntando las manos derramó grandes lágrimas. Temía que ahora se enfermara la delicada niña… y moriría.
Pero la niña no se puso enferma ni tuvo tampoco que morir. Sus mejillas se colorearon, brillaron más claros sus ojos, y toda ella floreció y se hizo cada día más bella.
-¡Jujujui! -rio el duendecillo, mientras la madre recogía los pedacitos de cristal.
Luego saltó a horcajadas sobre el viento, y éste se lo llevó consigo. ¿Adónde? Esto no lo he sabido yo nunca, pues en su gran prisa se olvidó de contármelo.
FIN

El hada de los deseos

La pequeña Margarita estaba sentada junto al arroyuelo debajo de una florida mata de saúco. Las vacaciones, el verano, el resplandor del sol y el libro de cuentos sobre el regazo: esto constituía todo su paraíso. Pero allí, enfrente, en la casita, su madre tenía trabajo a manos llenas.
Margarita contemplaba las luminosas olas, y soñaba. De repente exclamó en voz alta:
-¡Oh, yo desearía ser el hada de los deseos! Poder decir: “Madre, ¿qué quieres tú? ¡Madre dime tus deseos! Todo lo tendrás tú.” ¡Sería maravilloso!
-¡Así sea! -dijo una voz a sus espaldas.
¿Había descendido el hada del libro de cuentos? Por su aspecto, no lo parecía ciertamente. No llevaba ningún vestido tejido de rayos de sol, ni tampoco ninguna diadema en los cabellos, pero sí dos ojos llenos de bondad, aunque, claro está, un hada puede adoptar toda clase de figuras. Esta vez se parecía, sin embargo, a la anciana mujer del mensajero, con su tosca falda de lana gris. Llevaba un pesado cesto del brazo y dijo, sonriendo a la niña, al alejarse:
-Tú eres ya un hada de los deseos. Lo que ocurre es tan sólo que no has probado nunca, hasta ahora, tu poder. ¡Ve hacia tu madre! Tú puedes convertir en realidad todos sus deseos.
La pequeña Margarita la contempló asombrada. ¿No sería un sueño? Alargó los brazos, miró hacia la radiante luz del sol y exhaló luego un profundo suspiro. Después se apresuró, a grandes saltos, por el sendero de la pradera, al encuentro de su madre.
-¡Madrecita! ¿Tienes tú algún deseo?
-¡Oh, sí! Ve corriendo hasta la aldea y compra sal para la sopa.
La niña se rió y voló montaña abajo. ¡Cuán maravilloso era poder convertir en realidad los deseos!
-¡Madrecita, desea otra cosa! -rogó Margarita a su regreso.
-Si alguien me pusiera la mesa, estaría yo muy contenta.
Se rió de nuevo la chiquilla. Mantel y cubiertos fueron rápidamente colocados, sin olvidar tampoco los vasos ni el cestito del pan, y todo le salía tan ligero de la mano como es propio de una deliciosa hada de los deseos.
-¡Y ahora, el tercer deseo, madrecita!
-Niña, que no hables siempre tanto durante la comida. Papá necesita un poco de tranquilidad en las vacaciones.
-¡Sea! -dijo Margarita sonriendo a la madre-. Y así fue: durante la comida no pronunció una sola palabra, si no era preguntada.
-¿Qué le ocurre a nuestra Margarita? Está completamente cambiada -se admiró el padre.
-Soy el hada de los deseos -gritó, jubilosa, la niña-, y desde ahora realizaré siempre los deseos de mi madrecita.
Entonces la madre, llena de alegría, juntó las manos. Miró a su hija como si la viera por primera vez. Margarita estaba junto a la ventana y los rayos solares resplandecían sobre la blonda cabellera. Toda la muchacha resplandecía. Parecía verdaderamente una pequeña hada, por lo que la madre exclamó:
-¡Cuán grande es mi suerte!
FIN

martes, 16 de agosto de 2016

THE SNOW QUEEN - STORY III

THE SNOW QUEEN

A FAIRYTALE IN SE7EN STORIES



STORY THE THI3D 

THE FLOWER
GARDEN



After Kai had been missing for a few days, Gerda began to fear the worst. But the sun was shining, and its bright rays seemed to say to Gerda that Kai was still alive. From butterflies fluttering and bumblebees bombinating around, from the scent of newly-opened scarlet and ivory roses and supple peaseblossoms, she felt the presence of her missing friend in the springtime air. The songbirds, too, with their fine spring plumage and cheerful chittering, assured Gerda that Kai was not dead. And thus, she soon decided that he was indeed alive, and one particularly fine April day, she made up her mind to look for him.
She set out the very next morning, at the crack of dawn, wearing her most treasured possession  her new red shoes, which she had received for her birthday. Kai had never seen those shoes, and Gerda wanted to show them off as soon as she found him. She had an idea that, if she went to the river that ran through the town, the water might carry some news of Kai to her.
Gerda sat by the river, and watched as the stream carried by the tales and news of the thousands of souls that it passed every day. But there was no news of Kai.
"I know," thought Gerda, "if I throw my shoes into the river, and wish very hard, maybe they will lead me to Kai." Gerda could not throw very far, and the water simply carried her shoes back to the bank where she sat.
There was a small rowing boat tied to a stump nearby. Gerda clambered aboard and walked gingerly to the front of the boat, thinking that from here she could throw the shoes further out into the river. But as she cast her shoes into the water, the boat slipped its mooring and began to drift out towards the centre of the river.
Gerda looked around for help, but there was no one down by the river, on either bank, apart from her. The fishing boat had pointed itself downstream, and was beginning to pick up speed. Gerda's red shoes bobbed along in its wake, but were soon left trailing behind as the boat was propelled forwards by the strong currents of the rapids.
Gerda gripped the side of the boat and cried for help, glancing in desperation at the banks of the rivers. But only the shorebirds heard her. The sedge-warblers and curlews flew the length of the riverbank, keeping pace with Gerda's boat and calling, encouraging her. "Here we are," they cried, "we will fly with you. We won't let you come to any harm!"
Gerda was comforted by their song. Her grip on the boat relaxed, and she looked around. Grassy meadows with sweet-smelling wildflowers were home for cows and sheep. Willows dipped their slender branches in the stream and drank, with their tangled roots clung fiercely to the water's edge, while their branches dipped into the water’s edge like a toddler would with their toes.
Gerda's spirits rose. She began to believe that maybe the river was carrying her to Kai.

Hours passed, and gradually the river became more winding, and the currents slowed. Gerda marvelled at a cherry orchard on the left bank; the blossom was so dense and so pure white it took her breath away. The boat seemed to be drifting towards the orchard, and, as she got closer, Gerda spied a little cottage amidst the cloud-like blossoms. The cottage had a thatched roof and odd little windows. A small white wicket gate at the entrance to the garden was guarded by two soldiers, one on either side,
Gerda called out to the soldiers, but they were lifesized nutcrackers, made of wood, and thus, could not answer. As the boat finally nudged against the riverbank, an old woman emerged from the cottage. She wore a large-brimmed straw hat, gaily painted with hundreds of different flowers, and she walked with the aid of a stick or cane. As the old woman drew closer, Gerda realised that she was even much older than Kai's grandmother. Her face was wrinkled like an old apple, but she was smiling and her eyes looked kindly.
"You poor thing!" the old lady said. "You look cold and half-starved. Where have you come from?"
Gerda told her the whole story; the old lady sighed and looked sympathetic, but when Gerda asked if she had seen Kai, she only shook her head.
"You must eat, my dear, before you continue your journey. Come into my house and have some cherries," she offered with a smile.
Gerda thought this sounded like a wonderful idea, and she followed the old lady through the beautiful flower garden into the curious thatched cottage. The panes in the stained-glass windows were made up of tiny squares of blue and red, and the sunlight shining through the coloured glass made everything seem a little odd.
Gerda sat down at the wooden table, and the old lady brought out a bowl full to overflowing with ripe ruby-red cherries.
"Eat as many as you like," she urged, and, as Gerda tucked in, she started to comb the little girl's long fair hair.
Gerda was unaware of it, but the old lady know how to work magic. Not wicked magic like the sorcerer with the mirror, but simple small enchantments. As she combed Gerda's hair, the wise woman, who had been very lonely since her husband died and her children left her, thought how nice it would be to have some company for a while. The longer she combed, and the more Gerda ate, the less the little girl thought about her journey and her lost friend.
After the meal, the wise old woman let the tired little girl have a sleep on the sofa, tucked up with a warm patchwork blanket and a plump pillow smelling of violets and lavender. While Gerda slept, the old lady went out into her flower garden, She clicked her fingers, and all the rose bushes sank back into the ground, for Gerda had told her about the roses in the window-boxes, and the sorceress feared they would remind the girl of her lost friend Kai.
The next few days passed peacefully for Gerda. She played in the old lady's beautiful flower garden; she was amazed at how many different types and colours of flowers there were. Each and every morning, the sun shone on the shrubs and flower beds, and the blooms opened, welcoming the light and warmth of the star of stars. Gerda helped the old lady water and prune the garden,  even fixing the thatched roof for the rain not to get in, and, in return, the sorceress taught her the names of all the plants she didn't know, and how to recognize each flower's distinctive perfume and healing properties.
For all the variety and colour in the garden, at the back of her mind Gerda knew there was something missing. The garden felt incomplete. It was the old lady's straw hat that solved the mystery for her. One day, it was left lying on the table, and Gerda was looking at the lovely flower drawings round the rim. The most beautiful of them all was a scarlet rose  a painted rose that the old lady's spell had missed.
Gerda rushed out into the garden. Surely there must be roses here; maybe she had simply missed them; maybe they were in some quiet corner that she rarely visited. She found no roses. For some reason, this made her feel very sad, and, as she sat by the flower beds, a teardrop rolled down her left cheek and fell on the soil. By chance, it fell on one of the very spots where a rose bush once had stood. As Gerda's tear touched the soil. the rose bush sprang from the ground, fully in bloom, released from its enchantment.
Gerda, too, was free of the enchantment that had imprisoned her. Seeing the rose bush yield clusters of ivory flowers, she remembered Kai, and how she had set out on a journey to find him.
"Do you think my friend is still alive?" she asked the ivory roses.
"You must keep looking," the rose bush answered her, "for we have spent many days underground, and Kai was not amongst the dead and buried."
Gerda wandered around the garden one last time, and asked all the flowers if they had seen her friend Kai. The tiger-lily, the moonflowers, the snowdrops, and the perfumed hyacinths all told tragic tales; they made Gerda feel lonely and afraid, The buttercups cheered her up with a pretty song full of sunshine and kisses, but couldn't help her find Kai. The narcissus was no help either, it was too busy gazing at its own reflection in the pond to answer. Each and every flower told a different story, but the stories were their own, and told Gerda nothing of their friend.
She knew that she had to leave the old lady's garden straight away, so she picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could. The garden gate was locked, but Gerda pulled as fiercely as she could and the rusty hinges gave way. As she went through the gate, Gerda realised that the garden's eternal springtime was just an illusion. In the outside world, spring and summer were over, and she shivered in the autumn winds.
"I have wasted so much time," she sighed. "I must not stop again!"