Prevod

There was once an emperor’s son who had vowed that he would not marry until he saw a maiden in a dream who would say to him, “I am yours; I shall bring you happiness and bear you a son with a shining star upon his brow.” He told no one of this, until one night a woman of surpassing beauty appeared to him in a dream and said, “Why do you not marry, young hero? There are three poor maidens, without father or mother, living in a lowly house divided into three parts, each with a wickerwork porch before it. Each maiden is busy with a different task: one embroiders, another knits, and the third sings as she sews her trousseau. When you wake, go out hunting and make your way towards the nearest village. On the road you will meet a black lamb without a single mark upon it, with little golden horns, and it will lead you to the maidens’ house.” When the emperor’s son awoke in the morning, he rejoiced and did just as the woman had told him. He rose early and set out hunting with his servants. When he met the black lamb upon the road, he said to his servants, “Go on your way, or wait for me here; do not expect me until you see me.” Then he followed the lamb until he came in sight of the little house with its three wickerwork porches, and in each was a maiden working just as the woman had told him. So marvellous was their beauty that he could not tell which was the fairest, and he greeted them: “God be with you!” The eldest answered, “God’s blessing upon you, my lord!” The second said, “Good fortune to you, brave youth!” And the third said, “May your coming be fortunate, you happy, thrice-happy hero!” The emperor’s son was astonished at these replies, and most of all at the youngest maiden’s, and he thought to himself that he would indeed be happy and thrice happy if he married her. So he took the ring from his right hand and slipped it onto hers, saying, “You are my betrothed.” Then he went on his way and returned home. He told his father all that had happened, and his father rejoiced greatly and held a splendid celebration. When the other two sisters saw that their youngest sister had been betrothed while they, her elders, were still unmarried, they began plotting against her life and devising ways to do away with her. They agreed to send for a witch, an old woman from the village who knew how to cast spells, and promised her everything they possessed if she could prevent their sister’s marriage. The old woman gave them a herb and said, “Give her this herb to drink in untouched water, first thing in the morning on an empty stomach. As soon as she drinks it, darkness will cloud her mind, and she will run away into the forest. Once she is there, she will never come home again, but will either take her own life in the wilderness or be torn apart by wild beasts. And when that man comes—for he is the emperor’s son—tell him that she ran away of her own accord.” The heartless creatures did just as the old woman had told them. They gave their sister the herb in water, and no sooner had she drunk it than she began rushing this way and that, and fled into the wilderness as though out of her mind. The next day the emperor’s son came again to see his betrothed, but her sisters told him that she had run off somewhere early that morning and that they had no idea where she had gone. Then they made a show of weeping and lamenting for her before him. At once the emperor’s son hurried into the forest to search for her, like a man possessed. Presently he heard someone wailing and weeping, and ran towards the sound. There he found his betrothed huddled against a rock, half dead with terror and grief. He rushed to her and, clasping her in his arms, cried through his tears, “Oh, blessed am I! Here she is!” She recognized him, and as soon as she heard his voice she too embraced him, but in the excess of her joy and weeping she breathed her last in his arms. When the emperor’s son saw this, he drew the knife from his belt and killed himself, and both fell dead upon the ground. At that very moment—such was God’s will!—the emperor lay asleep, and the same woman who had come to his son in a dream appeared to him and said, “Rise to your feet! Your son and your daughter-in-law are dead. Take the herb you will find beneath your pillow and hasten to such-and-such a forest. There you will find them lying dead beside one another. Anoint your son’s wounds with the herb, squeezing it well so that its juice runs into them, and anoint your daughter-in-law’s heart. Then say three times: ‘Rise, you unhappy ones, and be happy, God willing!’” The emperor awoke in fright, turned over his pillow, and beneath it found a herb as yellow as a broom blossom. He mounted his horse and galloped towards the forest he had been told of. When he arrived, he found his son and daughter-in-law stretched out beside one another. He began squeezing the herb’s juice into his son’s wounds and rubbing it over his daughter-in-law’s heart, and before he had finished saying for the third time, “Rise, you unhappy ones, and be happy, God willing!” they both sprang to their feet as though nothing had happened to them. The two who had been dead marvelled at their return to life, and the father joyfully led them home to his palace and had them married. In the very first year, the young empress bore a son with a golden star upon his brow.