O besedilu
Štorklje
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- Hans Christian Andersen
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- English
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- Storkene
O izvirniku
Andersenove pravljice
Literarne pravljice z nežnostjo, bolečino in ostrim občutkom za čudežno. Bralni jezik je English, izvirnik pa prihaja iz vira Andersenove pravljice v jeziku Dansk.
Besedilo
Štorklje
On the last house in a little town stood a stork’s nest. The mother stork sat in the nest with her four little ones, who poked out their heads with their little black beaks, for these had not yet turned red. A short way off, on the ridge of the roof, stood the father stork, very stiff and upright. He had drawn one leg up beneath him, just to give himself a little trouble as he stood guard. You would have thought he was carved out of wood, so still he stood. “It must look rather grand for my wife to have a sentry by her nest!” he thought. “They cannot know that I am her husband; no doubt they think I have been ordered to stand here. It looks so dashing!” And so he went on standing on one leg.
Down in the street a whole troop of children were playing, and when they saw the storks, one of the boldest boys began to sing the old verse about them, and then all the others joined in. But they sang it just as he remembered it:
“Stork, stork, fly away, Home to your own without delay! Your wife is lying in her nest With four big chicks beneath her breast. One shall be hanged, Another run through, The third shall be burned, The fourth turned upside down!”
“Just listen to what the boys are singing!” said the little storks. “They say we are to be hanged and burned!” “You must not trouble yourselves about that!” said the mother stork. “Just pay no attention, and it will do you no harm!”
But the boys went on singing and pointing their fingers at the storks. Only one boy, whose name was Peter, said it was cruel to make fun of the animals, and would have nothing to do with it. The mother stork comforted her little ones too. “Never mind them,” she said. “Just look how calmly your father stands, and on one leg at that!”
“We are so frightened!” said the little ones, drawing their heads deep down into the nest. The next day, when the children gathered to play again and saw the storks, they began their song:
“One shall be hanged, Another shall be burned!—” “Surely we shall not be hanged and burned?” asked the little storks. “Of course not!” said their mother. “You are going to learn to fly, and I shall put you through your drills! Then we shall go out into the meadow and pay a visit to the frogs. They will bow to us in the water and sing, ‘Croak, croak!’ And then we shall eat them up. What a pleasure that will be!”
“And what then?” asked the little storks. “Then all the storks in the whole country will gather, and the autumn manoeuvres will begin. You must be able to fly well then; it is most important, for anyone who cannot fly will be stabbed to death by the general with his beak. So be sure to learn all you can when the drills begin!”
“Then we shall be run through after all, just as the boys said! And listen, now they are singing it again!” “Listen to me, not to them,” said the mother stork. “After the great manoeuvres, we fly to the warm countries, oh, so far away from here, over mountains and forests. We fly to Egypt, where there are triangular stone houses that rise to a point above the clouds. They are called pyramids, and they are older than any stork can imagine. There is a river there that overflows its banks, turning the land to mud. You walk about in the mud and eat frogs.”
“Oh!” said all the little ones. “Yes! It is so lovely there! You do nothing but eat all day long, and while we are having such a wonderful time, there is not a green leaf left on the trees in this country. It is so cold here that the clouds freeze to pieces and fall down in little white shreds!” She meant the snow, of course, but she could not explain it any more clearly.
“Do the naughty boys freeze to pieces too?” asked the little storks. “No, they do not freeze to pieces! But they very nearly do, and they have to sit indoors in a dark room, moping, while you can fly about in a foreign land where there are flowers and warm sunshine!”
Some time had now passed, and the little ones were so big that they could stand up in the nest and look far around them. Every day the father stork came flying home with fine frogs, little grass snakes, and all the stork delicacies he could find. Oh, how funny he looked as he performed tricks for them! He bent his head right back onto his tail, clattered his beak like a little rattle, and then told them stories, all of them about the marsh.
“Now listen, you must learn to fly!” said the mother stork one day, and all four little ones had to come out onto the ridge of the roof. Oh, how they wobbled! How they balanced themselves with their wings, and still they were on the very point of falling off!
“Now watch me!” said their mother. “This is how you must hold your heads! This is how you must place your legs! One, two! One, two! This is what will help you make your way in the world!” Then she flew a little way, and the young ones gave a little clumsy hop. Bump! There they lay, for their bodies were heavy.
“I will not fly!” said one of the little ones, scrambling back into the nest. “I do not care about going to the warm countries!” “Then do you want to freeze to death here when winter comes? Shall the boys come and hang you and burn you and run you through? I shall call them now!”
“Oh, no!” said the little stork, and it hopped out onto the roof again like the others. By the third day they could really fly a little, and then they thought they could sit and rest on the air as well. They tried, but bump! Down they dropped, and had to start moving their wings again. Now the boys came along the street below and sang their song:
“Stork, stork, fly away!” “Shall we fly down and peck their eyes out?” said the little ones. “No, leave them alone!” said their mother. “Just listen to me; that is more important! One, two, three! Now we fly to the right! One, two, three! Now to the left, round the chimney!—There, that was very good! That last stroke of your wings was so graceful and correct that you shall be allowed to come to the marsh with me tomorrow! Several nice stork families will be there with their children. Let me see that mine are the best-behaved, and be sure to hold your heads high. It looks well and earns you respect!”
“But are we not going to have our revenge on the naughty boys?” asked the little storks. “Let them shout whatever they please! You will be flying up towards the clouds and going to the land of the pyramids, while they must freeze and have neither a green leaf nor a sweet apple!”
“Yes, we will have our revenge!” they whispered to one another, and then the drills began again. Of all the boys in the street, none was worse at singing the mocking song than the very boy who had started it, and he was quite a little fellow, probably no more than six years old. The young storks, however, thought he must be a hundred, for he was so much bigger than their mother and father, and what did they know about how old children and grown people might be? All their revenge was to fall upon that boy, for he had begun it, and he never stopped. The young storks were so annoyed, and the bigger they grew, the less willing they were to put up with it. At last their mother had to promise that they should indeed have their revenge, but she would not take it until their very last day in the country.
“First we must see how you manage at the great manoeuvres! If you do badly and the general drives his beak into your breasts, then the boys will have been right after all, at least in a way! We shall see!”
“Yes, you shall!” said the little ones, and they took particular pains. They practised every day and flew so gracefully and lightly that it was a joy to see. Now autumn came, and all the storks began gathering to fly away to the warm countries while we have winter. What manoeuvres there were! They had to fly over forests and towns, just to see how well they could fly, for a great journey lay ahead. The young storks did so well that they were awarded the highest marks, with a frog and a snake. That was the very best grade, and they could eat the frog and the snake, which they did.
“Now we shall have our revenge!” they said. “Yes, indeed!” said the mother stork. “The plan I have thought of is just the thing! I know where the pond is in which all the little human babies lie until the stork comes to fetch them for their parents. The lovely little babies sleep and dream more sweetly than they ever will again. All parents would like to have such a little child, and all children want a sister or a brother. Now we shall fly to the pond and fetch one for each of the children who did not sing that wicked song and make fun of the storks. Those who did shall have none at all!”
“But the one who began the singing, that wicked, horrid boy!” cried the young storks. “What shall we do to him?” “There is a little dead baby lying in the pond; it has dreamed itself to death. We shall take it to him, and then he will have to cry because we have brought him a dead little brother. But that good boy—you have not forgotten him, have you?—the one who said, ‘It is cruel to make fun of the animals!’ We shall bring him both a brother and a sister. And since that boy was called Peter, you shall all be called Peter too!”
And what she said came to pass, and so all the storks were called Peter, and that is what they are called to this day.
Izvirnik
Storkene
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
Eventyr af Hans Christian Andersen
På det sidste hus i en lille by stod der en storkerede. Storkemoderen sad i reden hos sine fire små unger, der stak hovedet frem med det lille sorte næb, for det var ikke blevet rødt endnu. Et lille stykke derfra på tagryggen stod så strunk og stiv storkefaderen, han havde trukket det ene ben op under sig, for dog at have nogen ulejlighed, idet han stod skildvagt. Man skulle tro, han var hugget ud af træ, så stille stod han; "det ser vist nok så fornemt ud, at min kone har en skildvagt ved reden!" tænkte han, "de kan jo ikke vide, at jeg er hendes mand, de tror vist, jeg er kommanderet til at stå her. Det ser så raskt ud!" og så blev han ved at stå på det ene ben.
Nede på gaden legede en hel flok børn, og da de så storkene, så sang en af de modigste drenge, og siden de alle sammen, det gamle vers om storkene, men de sang det nu, som han kunne huske det:
"Storke, storke steje
Flyv hjem til dit eje!
Din kone ligger i reden sin
Med fire store unger.
Den ene skal hænges,
Den anden skal stænges,
Den tredje skal brændes,
Den fjerde endevendes!"
"Hør dog hvad drengene synger!" sagde de små storkeunger, "de siger vi skal hænges og brændes!"
"Det skal I ikke bryde jer om!" sagde storkemoderen; "hør bare ikke efter, så gør det ikke noget!"
Men drengene blev ved at synge, og de pegede fingre af storkene; kun én dreng, han hed Peter, sagde, at det var synd at gøre nar af dyrene, og ville slet ikke være med. Storkemoderen trøstede også sine unger; "bryd jer ikke derom," sagde hun, "se bare, hvor rolig jer fader står, og det på ét ben!"
"Vi er så angst!" sagde ungerne, og trak hovederne dybt ned i reden.
Næste dag, da børnene kom sammen igen for at lege, og de så storkene, begyndte de deres vise:
"Den ene skal hænges,
Den anden skal brændes! –"
"Skal vi vel hænges og brændes?" spurgte storkeungerne.
"Nej vist ikke!" sagde moderen, "I skal lære at flyve, jeg skal nok eksercere jer! så tager vi ud på engen og gør visit hos frøerne, de nejer i vandet for os, de synger 'koaks, koaks!' og så spiser vi dem op, det kan rigtig blive en fornøjelse!"
"Og hvad så!" spurgte storkeungerne.
"Så samles alle de storke, her er i hele landet, og så begynder høstmanøvren, da må man flyve godt, det er af stor vigtighed, thi den som ikke kan flyve, stikker generalen ihjel med sit næb; derfor pas vel på at lære noget, når eksercitsen begynder!"
"Så bliver vi jo dog stænget, som drengene sagde! og hør, nu synger de det igen!"
"Hør på mig og ikke på dem," sagde storkemoderen. "Efter den store manøvre flyver vi til de varme lande, oh, så langt herfra, over bjerge og skove. Til Ægypten flyver vi, hvor der er trekantede stenhuse, der går i en spids op over skyerne, de kaldes pyramider og er ældre end nogen stork kan tænke sig. Der er en flod, som løber over, så landet bliver til mudder. Man går i mudder og spiser frøer."
"Oh!" sagde alle ungerne.
"Ja! der er så dejligt! man gør ikke andet end spise hele dagen, og imens vi har det så godt, er i dette land ikke et grønt blad på træerne; her er så koldt, så skyerne fryser i stykker og falder ned i små hvide lapper!" det var sneen, hun mente, men hun kunne jo ikke forklare det tydeligere.
"Fryser så også de uartige drenge i stykker?" spurgte storkeungerne.
"Nej, i stykker fryser de ikke! men de er nær ved det og må sidde inde i den mørke stue og kukkelure; I kan derimod flyve om i fremmed land, hvor der er blomster og varmt solskin!"
Nu var der allerede gået nogen tid, og ungerne var så store, at de kunne stå op i reden og se vidt omkring, og storkefaderen kom flyvende hver dag med pæne frøer, små snoge og alt det storkeslikkeri, han kunne finde! oh, det så morsomt ud, hvor han gjorde kunster for dem. Hovedet lagde han lige om på halen, næbbet knebrede han med, som var det en lille skralde, og så fortalte han dem historier, alle sammen fra sumpen.
"Hør nu må I lære at flyve!" sagde en dag storkemoderen, og så måtte alle fire unger ud på tagryggen, oh hvor de dinglede! hvor de balancerede med vingerne, og var dog færdig ved at falde ned!
"Se nu på mig!" sagde moderen, "sådan skal I holde hovedet! sådan skal I sætte benene! én to! én to! det er det, som skal hjælpe jer frem i verden!" så fløj hun et lille stykke, og ungerne, de gjorde et lille kluntet hop, bums! der lå de, for de var tunge i livet.
"Jeg vil ikke flyve!" sagde den ene unge, og krøb op i reden igen, "jeg bryder mig ikke om at komme til de varme lande!"
"Vil du da fryse ihjel her, når det bliver vinter! skal drengene komme og hænge og brænde og stænge dig? nu kalder jeg på dem!"
"Oh nej!" sagde storkeungen, og så hoppede den igen på taget ligesom de andre, den tredje dag kunne de ordentlig flyve lidt, og så troede de, at de kunne også sidde og hvile på luften; det ville de, men bums! der dumpede de, så måtte de til at røre vingerne igen. Nu kom drengene nede på gaden og sang deres vise:
"Storke, storke steje!"
"Skal vi ikke flyve ned og hugge deres øjne ud?" sagde ungerne.
"Nej lad være med det!" sagde moderen, "hør bare efter mig, det er vigtigere! én, to, tre! nu flyver vi højre om! én to, tre! nu venstre om skorstenen! – se det var meget godt! det sidste slag med vingerne var så nydeligt og rigtigt, at I skal få lov at komme i sumpen med mig i morgen! der kommer flere nette storkefamilier med deres børn, lad mig nu se, at mine er de pæneste, og så at I knejser, det ser godt ud, og det giver anseelse!"
"Men skal vi da ikke have hævn over de uartige drenge?" spurgte storkeungerne.
"Lad dem skrige hvad de vil! I flyver dog mod skyerne, kommer til pyramidernes land, når de må fryse og ikke har et grønt blad eller et sødt æble!"
"Ja hævnes vil vi!" hviskede de til hinanden, og så blev der igen ekserceret.
Af alle drengene på gaden var ingen værre til at synge spottevisen, end just han, som havde begyndt, og det var en ganske lille en, han var nok ikke mere end seks år; storkeungerne troede rigtignok, at han var hundrede år; for han var jo så meget større end deres moder og fader, og hvad vidste de om, hvor gamle børn og store mennesker kunne være. Hele deres hævn skulle gå ud over den dreng, han havde jo først begyndt, og han blev altid ved: Storkeungerne var så irriterede, og alt som de blev større, ville de mindre tåle det; moderen måtte til sidst love dem, at de nok skulle få hævn, men hun ville ikke tage den, før på den sidste dag, de var i landet.
"Vi må jo først se, hvorledes I bærer jer ad ved den store manøvre! kommer I galt fra det, så generalen jager jer næbbet i brystet, så har jo drengene dog ret, i det mindste på en måde! lad os nu se!"
"Ja det skal du!" sagde ungerne, og så gjorde de sig just umage; de øvede sig hver dag, og fløj så nydeligt og let, så det var en lyst.
Nu kom høsten, alle storkene begyndte at samles for at flyve bort til de varme lande, mens vi har vinter. Det var en manøvre! over skov og byer måtte de, bare for at se, hvor godt de kunne flyve, det var jo en stor rejse, som forestod. Storkeungerne gjorde deres ting så nydeligt, at de fik udmærket godt med frø og slange. Det var den allerbedste karakter, og frøen og slangen kunne de spise, det gjorde de også.
"Nu skal vi hævnes!" sagde de.
"Ja vist!" sagde storkemoderen. "Hvad jeg havde udtænkt, det er just det rigtige! jeg ved, hvor den dam er, hvor alle de små menneskebørn ligger, til storken kommer og henter dem til forældrene. De nydelige små børn sover og drømmer så dejligt, som de aldrig siden kommer til at drømme. Alle forældre vil gerne have sådant et lille barn, og alle børn vil have en søster eller broder. Nu vil vi flyve hen til dammen, hente en til hver af de børn, som ikke har sunget den onde vise og gjort nar af storkene, for de børn skal slet ingen have!"
"Men han, som begyndte med at synge, den slemme, hæslige dreng!" skreg de unge storke, "hvad gør vi ved ham?"
"Der ligger i dammen et lille dødt barn, det har drømt sig ihjel, det vil vi tage til ham, så må han græde, fordi vi har bragt ham en død lille broder, men den gode dreng, ham har I dog ikke glemt, han som sagde: 'Det er synd at gøre nar af dyrene!' ham vil vi bringe både en broder og en søster, og da den dreng hed Peter, så skal I også alle sammen kaldes Peter!"
Og det skete hvad hun sagde, og så hed alle storkene Peter, og det kaldes de endnu.
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