Waltey
Jabolka Micaha Rooda
154 Micah Rood Apples
Myths and Legends of Our Own Land · Charles M. SkinnerO besedilu
Jabolka Micaha Rooda
- Vir
- Myths and Legends of Our Own Land
- Avtor
- Charles M. Skinner
- Jezik branja
- Slovenščina
- Jezik izvirnika
- English
- Čas branja
- 2 min branja
- Obseg
- 2 strani
- Naslov izvirnika
- 154 Micah Rood Apples
O izvirniku
Myths and Legends of Our Own Land
Obsežna zgodovinska zbirka ameriških legend, ki jih je Skinner zbral in avtorsko rekonstruiral. Bralni jezik je Slovenščina, izvirnik pa prihaja iz vira Myths and Legends of Our Own Land v jeziku English.
Besedilo
Jabolka Micaha Rooda
V zahodni Floridi vam bodo pokazali vrtnice, s katerih kaplja rdeča rosa, podobna krvi, in to že dolga leta, saj so pognale iz grobov žensk in otrok, ki so jih Indijanci okrutno pobili. A še nekaj bolj nenavadnega je na jabolkih Micah Rood — ali »Mike« — iz Franklina v Connecticutu: sladka so, z rdečo lupino in snežno belim mesom, ob peščišču pa imajo rdečo liso, podobno kaplji krvi; zato jim včasih pravijo krvava srca. Micah Rood je bil leta 1693 kmet v Franklinu. Čeprav je bil lakomen, je bil tudi nekoliko len in je raje sanjaril o bogastvu, kakor da bi si ga prislužil z delom. Toda ljudje so šepetali, da je tisto noč, potem ko je v kraj prišel krošnjar — vitek mož z bisago, polno nakita in drobnarij — krepko in odločno poprijel za delo, kajti jutro po tem obisku so krošnjarja našli pod jablano na Roodovi kmetiji, z izropano bisago in razklano lobanjo.
Sum je padel na Rooda, in čeprav mu niso ničesar dokazali, je postal mračen, samotarski in čemeren ter je svoje misli še bolj kakor prej zadrževal zase — čeprav tudi dotlej ni rad poslušal nasvetov drugih. Če je pričakoval, da se bo z zločinom okoristil, je bil očitno razočaran, saj je postal revnejši kot kdaj prej, njegova kmetija pa je dajala vse manj pridelka. Resnici na ljubo je na njej le malo delal. Ko so dozorela jabolka na drevesu, ki je razprostiralo veje nad krošnjarjevim truplom, so sosedje zmajevali z glavami in še bolj šepetali, kajti v sredini vsakega jabolka je bila kaplja krošnjarjeve krvi: nema priča in obsodba, so govorili, pa tudi posledica prekletstva, ki ga je umirajoči izrekel nad svojim morilcem. Micah Rood je kmalu zatem umrl, ne da bi povedal kar koli od tistega, kar so njegovi sovaščani morda čakali slišati, toda njegovo drevo še vedno živi in njegov nenavadni sadež so s cepljenjem razširili v stotine sadovnjakov.
Izvirnik
154 Micah Rood Apples
Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.
In Western Florida they will show roses to you that drop red dew, like blood, and have been doing so these many years, for they sprang out of the graves of women and children who had been cruelly killed by Indians. But there is something queerer still about the Micah Rood--or “Mike”--apples of Franklin, Connecticut, which are sweet, red of skin, snowy of pulp, and have a red spot, like a blood-drop, near the core; hence they are sometimes known as bloody-hearts. Micah Rood was a farmer in Franklin in 1693. Though avaricious he was somewhat lazy, and was more prone to dream of wealth than to work for it. But people whispered that he did some hard and sharp work on the night after the peddler came to town--the slender man with a pack filled with jewelry and knickknacks--because on the morning after that visit the peddler was found, beneath an apple-tree on Rood farm, with his pack rifled and his skull split open.
Suspicion pointed at Rood, and, while nothing was proved against him, he became gloomy, solitary, and morose, keeping his own counsels more faithfully than ever--though he never was disposed to take counsel of other people. If he had expected to profit by the crime he was obviously disappointed, for he became poorer than ever, and his farm yielded less and less. To be sure, he did little work on it. When the apples ripened on the tree that had spread its branches above the peddler's body, the neighbors wagged their heads and whispered the more, for in the centre of each apple was a drop of the peddler's blood: a silent witness and judgment, they said, and the result of a curse that the dying man had invoked against his murderer. Micah Rood died soon after, without saying anything that his fellow-villagers might be waiting to hear, but his tree is still alive and its strange fruit has been grafted on hundreds of orchards.
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