Prevod

Once there were seven Swabians together: the first was Mr Schulz, the second Jackli, the third Marli, the fourth Jergli, the fifth Michal, the sixth Hans, and the seventh Veitli. All seven had resolved to travel the world, seek adventures, and perform great deeds. But so that they might go safely and well armed, they thought it best to have a single spear made for them, though a very stout and lengthy one. All seven took hold of this spear together. The boldest and manliest went in front, and that could only be Mr Schulz; the others followed in order, with Veitli last of all.

Now it happened one day in the haymaking month, after they had walked a long way and still had a good distance to go before reaching the village where they were to spend the night, that a large beetle or hornet flew behind a bush in a meadow near them in the twilight, buzzing fiercely. Mr Schulz took such fright that he nearly dropped the spear, and a cold sweat broke out all over him. ‘Listen, listen!’ he cried to his companions. ‘Heavens, I hear a drum!’ Jackli, who held the spear just behind him, and whose nostrils had caught I know not what sort of smell, said, ‘There’s certainly something afoot, for I can smell the powder and the slow match.’ At these words Mr Schulz took to his heels and leapt over a fence in a trice. But he landed squarely on the teeth of a rake that had been left lying there after the haymaking, and its handle flew up into his face and dealt him a tremendous blow. ‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ cried Mr Schulz. ‘Take me prisoner! I surrender, I surrender!’ The other six came tumbling over one another after him, all crying, ‘If you surrender, so do I! If you surrender, so do I!’ At last, when no enemy appeared to bind them and carry them off, they realized they had been deceived. And so that the story should not get about and make them a laughingstock, they swore among themselves to keep silent about it until one of them should happen to let it slip.

Then they travelled on. But the second peril they encountered was not to be compared with the first. A few days later their road led them through a fallow field, where a hare lay asleep in the sunshine, its ears pricked up and its great glassy eyes staring wide open. At the sight of this savage, ferocious beast, they were all terrified, and took counsel as to what would be the least dangerous thing to do. For if they fled, there was every reason to fear that the monster would pursue them and swallow them all, skin and hair. So they said, ‘We must face a great and perilous battle. Well begun is half won!’ All seven took hold of the spear, Mr Schulz in front and Veitli at the rear. Mr Schulz still wished to hold the spear back, but Veitli had grown quite bold in the rear and wanted to charge. He cried, ‘Strike home in every Swabian’s name, or may your limbs go stiff and lame!’

But Hans knew how to answer him, and said, ‘By thunder, you can talk so fast, when chasing dragons you come last!’ Michal cried, ‘Unless we’re wrong by just a hair,

it is the devil sitting there!’ Then came Jergli’s turn, and he said, ‘If not himself, it is his mother, or else the devil’s own stepbrother.’

Marli now had a bright idea, and said to Veitli, ‘Go, Veitli, go, go lead the line; I’ll stand behind and guard your spine.’ But Veitli paid no heed, and Jackli said, ‘Schulz must be first to face the foe, for all the honour’s his, you know.’

Then Mr Schulz took heart and said solemnly, ‘Then boldly march into the fray; brave men are known by what they dare!’ And together they all advanced upon the dragon. Mr Schulz crossed himself and called on God for help. But when none of this availed him, and he drew ever nearer to the enemy, he cried out in great terror, ‘Ha! Hurly-ha! Ha! Ha-ha!’ This woke the hare, which took fright and bounded away. When Mr Schulz saw it fleeing across the field, he cried joyfully, ‘Why, Veitli, look! What’s over there?

Our dreadful monster is a hare!’ But the Swabian band went on in search of further adventures and came to the Moselle, a muddy, still, deep river, with few bridges across it, so that in many places travellers must be ferried over in boats. As the seven Swabians knew nothing of this, they called to a man at work on the other bank and asked how they could get across. Because of the distance and their way of speaking, the man could not understand what they wanted, and asked in his Trier dialect, ‘Wat? Wat?’ Mr Schulz thought he was saying nothing other than ‘Wade, wade through the water,’ and, being foremost, set off and stepped into the Moselle. Before long he sank into the mud and the deep, surging water. But the wind drove his hat across to the opposite bank, where a frog settled beside it and croaked, ‘Wat, wat, wat.’ The other six heard this from across the river and said, ‘Our companion Mr Schulz is calling us. If he can wade across, why shouldn’t we?’ So they all hurriedly jumped into the water together and drowned. Thus a frog brought about the deaths of six of them, and not one of the Swabian band ever came home again.