Prevod

An old account tells of a man who, in remote antiquity, went away on a distant campaign, leaving no one at home but his daughter. There was a stallion, which the girl tended herself. Living alone in that secluded place and longing for her father, she said to the horse in jest, “If you can bring my father home to me, I will marry you.” On hearing these words, the horse broke its tether and ran off, going straight to where her father was. Astonished and delighted to see it, the father caught it and mounted. The horse looked back the way it had come and neighed mournfully without cease. “Why should this horse behave so for no reason?” the father said. “Can something have happened at home?” He hurriedly rode it back. Since the animal had shown such extraordinary feeling, he gave it generous amounts of fodder and took special care of it. But the horse refused to eat. Whenever it saw the girl coming or going, it would become wildly excited, rearing and kicking. This happened repeatedly. Puzzled, the father questioned his daughter in private. She told him everything, saying, “That must be the reason.” Her father said, “Say nothing of this, lest it disgrace our family. And do not go outside for the time being.” He then concealed himself with a crossbow and shot the horse dead, spreading its hide in the courtyard to dry. One day, when her father was away, the girl and a neighbor’s daughter were playing beside the hide. She kicked it and said, “You are a beast, yet you wanted a human being for your wife! You brought this slaughter and flaying upon yourself. Why did you make yourself suffer so?” Before she had finished speaking, the horsehide suddenly sprang up, wrapped itself around her, and carried her away. The neighbor’s daughter was too terrified to attempt a rescue. She ran to tell the girl’s father. He returned and searched for her, but she had vanished beyond his reach. Several days later, the girl and the horsehide were found among the branches of a great tree. Both had turned into silkworms and were spinning silk upon it. Their cocoons were large and thickly woven, unlike those of ordinary silkworms. The women of the neighborhood took them home and reared them, obtaining a yield several times greater than usual. They therefore named the tree sang, or mulberry, for sang also means “mourning.” From that time on, people everywhere vied with one another to plant it, and these are the silkworms reared today. What are called mulberry silkworms are the surviving descendants of those ancient silkworms. Consider the following: “The Celestial Offices” states, “Chen is the Horse Star.” The Book of Silkworms says, “When the moon is at Great Fire, bathe the silkworm eggs.” Thus silkworms and horses share the same vital essence. The Rites of Zhou lists among the duties of officials “the prohibition of second broods of silkworms.” Its commentary explains, “No two creatures can flourish together. Second broods of silkworms are forbidden because they harm horses.” Under the rites of the Han, the empress gathered mulberry leaves in person and sacrificed to the silkworm deities, who were called “the Lady Wanyu and Princess Yushi.” “Princess” is an honorific for a woman. The Lady Wanyu was the first to rear silkworms. Thus the fact that some people today call silkworms “little daughters” preserves an expression handed down from antiquity.