Prevod

At the edge of a great forest lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and his two children; the little boy was called Hänsel and the girl Gretel. He had little enough to eat, and once, when a great famine came upon the land, he could no longer earn their daily bread. One evening, as he lay in bed thinking and tossing about with worry, he sighed and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How can we feed our poor children when we have nothing left for ourselves?" "I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman. "Tomorrow, at first light, we shall take the children into the thickest part of the forest. We shall light a fire for them there and give each a little piece of bread, then go about our work and leave them alone. They will never find their way home, and we shall be rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that. How could I have the heart to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild beasts would soon come and tear them to pieces." "Oh, you fool," she said, "then all four of us must starve. You may as well start planing the boards for our coffins." And she gave him no peace until he agreed. "But I cannot help pitying the poor children," said the man.

The two children had been too hungry to fall asleep, and they had heard what their stepmother said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears and said to Hänsel, "Now we are lost." "Hush, Gretel," said Hänsel. "Do not grieve. I shall find a way to save us." When the grown-ups were asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened the lower half of the door, and slipped outside. The moon was shining brightly, and the white pebbles in front of the house glittered like silver coins. Hänsel bent down and filled his coat pocket with as many as it would hold. Then he went back inside and said to Gretel, "Take heart, dear little sister, and sleep peacefully. God will not forsake us." And he lay down in his bed again.

At daybreak, before the sun had risen, the woman came and woke the two children. "Get up, you lazybones. We are going into the forest to fetch wood." Then she gave each a little piece of bread and said, "Here is something for your dinner, but do not eat it before then, for you will get no more." Gretel put the bread under her apron, because Hänsel had the stones in his pocket. Then they all set off together for the forest. When they had walked a little way, Hänsel stopped and looked back at the house, and kept doing so again and again. His father said, "Hänsel, what are you looking at, hanging back like that? Pay attention, and remember to move your feet!" "Oh, Father," said Hänsel, "I am looking at my little white kitten, sitting up on the roof to say goodbye to me." The woman said, "Fool, that is not your kitten. It is the morning sun shining on the chimney." But Hänsel had not been looking at the kitten; each time, he had been dropping one of the bright pebbles from his pocket onto the path.

When they reached the heart of the forest, the father said, "Now gather some wood, children, and I will light a fire so you will not be cold." Hänsel and Gretel gathered brushwood into a little mound. The brushwood was set alight, and when the flames were burning high, the woman said, "Now lie down by the fire, children, and rest. We are going into the forest to cut wood. When we have finished, we shall come back for you."

Hänsel and Gretel sat by the fire, and at noon each ate their little piece of bread. Since they could hear the strokes of an axe, they thought their father was nearby. But it was not an axe: it was a branch he had tied to a dead tree, which the wind knocked back and forth. After they had sat there a long time, their eyes closed with weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it was dark night. Gretel began to cry and said, "How shall we ever get out of the forest now?" But Hänsel comforted her. "Just wait a little while until the moon rises, and we shall find our way." When the full moon had risen, Hänsel took his little sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which gleamed like newly minted silver coins and showed them the way. They walked all through the night and reached their father's house at daybreak. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it and saw that it was Hänsel and Gretel, she said, "You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you were never coming back." But their father was glad, for leaving them there all alone had weighed upon his heart.

Not long afterward, want was upon them once more, and the children heard their mother say to their father in bed one night, "Everything is eaten up again. We have half a loaf of bread left, and then that is the end of it. The children must go. We shall take them deeper into the forest, so they cannot find their way out again. There is no other hope for us." The man's heart grew heavy, and he thought, "It would be better to share your last morsel with your children." But the woman would listen to nothing he said, and scolded and reproached him. In for a penny, in for a pound: since he had given in the first time, he had to do so a second time as well.

But the children had still been awake and had heard the conversation. When the grown-ups were asleep, Hänsel got up again, meaning to go outside and gather pebbles as before. But the woman had locked the door, and Hänsel could not get out. Still, he comforted his little sister and said, "Do not cry, Gretel, and sleep peacefully. The good Lord will surely help us."

Early in the morning, the woman came and got the children out of bed. They were given their little pieces of bread, smaller even than before. On the way to the forest, Hänsel crumbled his in his pocket, stopping often to drop a crumb on the ground. "Hänsel, why do you keep stopping and looking about?" said his father. "Keep walking!" "I am looking at my little dove, sitting on the roof to say goodbye to me," Hänsel answered. "Fool," said the woman, "that is not your dove. It is the morning sun shining on top of the chimney." But little by little, Hänsel scattered all his crumbs along the path.

The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, to a place they had never been in all their lives. Once again a great fire was lit, and their mother said, "Stay here, children, and if you are tired, you may sleep a little. We are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening, when we have finished, we shall come and fetch you." At noon Gretel shared her bread with Hänsel, who had scattered his own piece along the path. Then they fell asleep, and evening passed, but no one came for the poor children. They did not wake until the dark of night, and Hänsel comforted his little sister, saying, "Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises. Then we shall see the breadcrumbs I scattered, and they will show us the way home." When the moon appeared, they set off, but they could not find a single crumb, for the many thousands of birds that fly about the woods and fields had pecked them all up. Hänsel said to Gretel, "We shall find the way." But they did not. They walked all night and then another whole day, from morning until evening, but they could not get out of the forest. They were terribly hungry, for they had eaten nothing but a few berries growing on the ground. And because they were so tired that their legs would no longer carry them, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house. They began walking again, but only went deeper and deeper into the forest, and unless help came soon, they would perish. At noon they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a branch, singing so sweetly that they stopped to listen. When it had finished, it spread its wings and flew ahead of them, and they followed it until they came to a little house, where it perched on the roof. As they drew closer, they saw that the little house was built of bread and roofed with cake, while its windows were made of clear sugar. "Let us set to," said Hänsel, "and have a blessed feast. I shall eat a piece of the roof, Gretel, and you can eat some of the window. That will be sweet." Hänsel reached up and broke off a little of the roof to see how it tasted, while Gretel stood by the windowpanes and nibbled at them. Then a thin voice called from inside:

"Nibble, nibble, little mouse, Who is nibbling at my house?" The children answered, "The wind, the wind, The heavenly child," and went on eating without letting it trouble them. Hänsel, who liked the roof very much, tore off a great piece, while Gretel pushed out a whole round windowpane, sat down, and enjoyed it. Suddenly the door opened, and an ancient woman leaning on a crutch came creeping out. Hänsel and Gretel were so frightened that they dropped what they were holding. But the old woman wagged her head and said, "Why, dear children, who has brought you here? Come inside and stay with me. No harm shall come to you." She took them both by the hand and led them into her little house. A fine meal was set before them: milk and pancakes with sugar, apples and nuts. Afterward, two pretty little beds were made up with white linen, and Hänsel and Gretel lay down in them and thought they were in heaven.

The old woman had only pretended to be kind. She was really a wicked witch who lay in wait for children, and she had built the little bread house only to lure them in. Whenever a child fell into her power, she killed it, cooked it, and ate it, and that was a feast day for her. Witches have red eyes and cannot see far, but they have a keen sense of smell, like animals, and can tell when human beings are coming near. When Hänsel and Gretel had approached her, she had laughed wickedly and said with a sneer, "Now I have them! They shall not escape me again!" Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she was already up. Seeing them resting so sweetly, with their plump, rosy cheeks, she muttered to herself, "They will make a tasty morsel." Then she seized Hänsel with her withered hand, carried him into a little shed, and locked him behind a barred door. He could scream as much as he liked; it did him no good. Then she went to Gretel, shook her awake, and cried, "Get up, lazybones! Fetch water and cook something good for your brother. He is outside in the shed and must be fattened up. When he is fat, I shall eat him." Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain: she had to do as the wicked witch demanded.

Now the finest food was cooked for poor Hänsel, but Gretel was given nothing but crayfish shells. Every morning the old woman crept to the little shed and called, "Hänsel, stick out your finger so I can feel whether you are getting fat." But Hänsel held out a little bone, and the old woman, whose eyes were dim, could not see it. She thought it was Hänsel's finger and wondered why he would not grow fat. When four weeks had passed and Hänsel was still thin, she lost patience and would wait no longer. "Now then, Gretel," she called to the girl, "be quick and fetch water! Fat or thin, tomorrow I shall slaughter Hänsel and cook him." Oh, how the poor little sister lamented as she carried the water, and how the tears streamed down her cheeks! "Dear God, please help us!" she cried. "If only the wild beasts in the forest had eaten us, at least we would have died together!" "Spare me your bawling," said the old woman. "It will do you no good."

Early in the morning Gretel had to go out, hang the kettle full of water over the fire, and light it. "First we shall bake," said the old woman. "I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor Gretel over to the oven, where flames were already leaping out. "Crawl inside," said the witch, "and see whether it is hot enough for us to put the bread in." Once Gretel was inside, she meant to shut the oven and let her roast, and then eat her too. But Gretel saw what she had in mind and said, "I do not know how to do it. How am I to get inside?" "You silly goose," said the old woman, "the opening is big enough. Look, I could get in myself." She clambered up and stuck her head into the oven. Then Gretel gave her a shove that sent her right inside, shut the iron door, and slid the bolt across. Oh, how horribly she began to howl! But Gretel ran away, and the wicked witch burned to a miserable death.

Gretel ran straight to Hänsel, opened his little shed, and cried, "Hänsel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!" Hänsel sprang out like a bird from a cage when its door is opened. How happy they were! They threw their arms around one another, jumped for joy, and kissed each other. Since they no longer had anything to fear, they went into the witch's house. In every corner stood chests filled with pearls and precious stones. "These are even better than pebbles," said Hänsel, filling his pockets with as many as they would hold. And Gretel said, "I shall bring something home too," and filled her little apron. "But now we must go," said Hänsel, "so we can get out of the witch's forest." After they had walked for a few hours, they came to a wide stretch of water. "We cannot get across," said Hänsel. "I see neither a footbridge nor a bridge." "And there is no little boat either," answered Gretel, "but a white duck is swimming over there. If I ask her, she will help us across."

Then she called, "Little duck, little duck, Here stand Gretel and Hänsel. No bridge, no plank to cross the blue, Carry us on your white back, do." The little duck came over, and Hänsel climbed onto her back and asked his little sister to sit beside him. "No," answered Gretel, "that would be too heavy for the little duck. She must take us across one at a time." The good little creature did just that, and when they were safely over and had walked a little farther, the forest began to look more and more familiar, until at last they saw their father's house in the distance. They began to run, burst into the room, and threw their arms around their father's neck. The man had not known a happy hour since he had left the children in the forest, but his wife had died. Gretel shook out her little apron, sending pearls and precious stones bouncing about the room, and Hänsel added one handful after another from his pockets. Then all their troubles were over, and they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is done; there goes a mouse—whoever catches it may make a great fur cap out of it.