It was the end of January; a terrible snowstorm was howling outside.Snowflakes swept across the streets and alleys; the windowpanes seemed to be covered with snow; and the snow fell in chunks from the roofs.People are running here and there; you bump into my arms, and I fall into your arms; they can only stand on their heels if they hug each other tightly.The carriage and horses seemed to have been covered with white powder.The groom leaned his back against the car and drove the car back against the wind.Cars can only move slowly in the deep snow, while pedestrians walk on the side of the car that blocks the wind.When the blizzard had at last subsided, and when a path appeared between the houses, people stopped and stood still as soon as they met.No one is willing to move away first, and automatically stand in the deep snow nearby to let others pass.They stood like this in silence until at last, as if by tacit understanding, each sacrificed a leg and stretched it into the deep snowdrift.
When it was dark, the weather became clearer.The sky seemed to have been swept, it was wider and more transparent than before.The stars seemed to be brand new, and some were still extraordinarily pure and bright.It was so cold that it was freezing, and it was so cold that it made a rustling sound.This makes the outer layer of snow harden at once, and the sparrows can walk on it in the morning.These little birds ran and hopped on the snow-swept ground; but they could find nothing to eat, and they were really freezing.
"Crack!" said the one to the other, "and they call it the New Year! It's a terrible thing compared to the old one! We might as well keep the old one. I'm not happy." , and I have reason to be unhappy."
"Yes, people are running around and celebrating the New Year," said a shivering little sparrow. "They beat on the door with pots and pans, and were mad with joy, because the old year was over. I was also happy, because I hoped that warm weather would come, but this hope was in vain-the weather was worse than before. It's getting colder!
People are counting the time wrong! "
"They are mistaken!" said the third sparrow.It's old and has a bunch of white hair on top. "They have a thing called a calendar. It's their own invention, so everything is arranged according to it! But it doesn't work. The year doesn't start until spring comes—it's nature The law of the law. That's what I do."
"But when will spring come?" the others asked together.
"When the stork returns, spring will come. But the whereabouts of the stork are not certain, and no one who lives here in the city knows such things; they can only know more in the country. We How about flying to the country and waiting there? We're closer to spring there."
"Yes, that's very good, too!" said a long-hopped sparrow; it twittered for a while, but said nothing remarkable. "I have a lot of convenience in the city; I'm afraid I will miss it when I fly to the country. In a house near here there is a human family. They are very clever, and they put three or four flower pots by the wall. And put them with the mouth in and the bottom out. A small hole was punched in the pot, big enough for me to fly out and in. My husband and I built a nest in this. Our children are Flew out from here. Of course the human family made this arrangement to appreciate us, otherwise they wouldn't do it. They also sprinkled some bread crumbs, which is also for their own appreciation. So we eat and it's as if they were supporting us. So I thought, I'd better stay, and my husband, too, and though we're not very happy--yet we stay!"
"Then we'll fly into the country and see if spring is coming!"
So they flew away.
It was still a harsh winter in the country; it was much colder than in the city.
Biting cold winds blow across the snow-covered fields.Peasants wear fingerless gloves and sit on sledges, flailing their arms for a little heat.The whip was on his knees, and the scrawny horse was galloping--steaming all over.The snow was crackling, and the sparrows were jumping around in the ruts, shivering with the cold: "Squeak! When will spring come? It's so slow!"
"How slow!" came the voice from the snow-covered hill across the field.It could be an echo we hear, but maybe it's the strange old man talking.He sat high on a pile of snow in the cold wind and freezing.He was quite white, like a farmer in white velvet.
He has long white hair, a white beard, a pale face and big blue eyes.
"Who is that old man?" asked the sparrows.
"I know!" said an old crow.It sat on the rail of a hedge, and quite humbly acknowledged that we were all equal birds before God, and so it was willing to mingle with the sparrows and explain something to them. "I know who this old man is. He is 'Winter' - the old man of last year. Unlike the almanac, he did not die; no, he is the protector of the coming little prince 'Spring'. Yes Yes, winter reigns here. Oh! You're still shaking, you little ones!"
"Yes, haven't I already told you?" said the youngest sparrow. "The almanac is but a human invention; it doesn't agree with nature! They should have made us do these things, and we are much wiser than they are."
A week passed; two weeks almost passed.The forest was black; the ice on the lake was hard and thick, like a piece of hard lead.Clouds—not clouds, indeed; but damp, freezing fog—lowered over the land.Great black crows flew in flocks, without making a sound, as if everything was asleep.Then a ray of sunlight glided across the lake, shining like a sheet of molten lead.The snow on the fields and hills did not glisten as it had in the past, but the white figure—Winter himself—still sat there, his eyes fixed on the south.He did not notice that the carpet of snow was sinking downward, and here and there small patches of green grass appeared, and the grass was crowded with countless sparrows.
"Squeak! Squeak! Has spring come now?"
"Spring!" the cry rose from the fields and steppes.It passed through dark brown trees--here the moss on the trunks shone dark green.Then from the south came the two first storks; and on each of them sat two beautiful children--a boy and a girl.They blew a kiss, saluting the earth.Wherever their tracks touched, white flowers came out from under the snow.Then they walked arm in arm to the old iceman - "Winter".They fell on his breast as a new salute.At the same time, the three of them disappeared, and everything around them disappeared.A thick, damp, black, dense layer of smoke enveloped everything.After a while the wind picked up.It gallops, it roars, drives away the mist, and makes the sun shine warmly.The old man in winter is gone, and the beautiful child of spring sits on the throne of the year.
"This is what I call a New Year!" said a sparrow, "and we have regained our rights in return for this harsh winter."
Wherever the two boys went, green shoots sprouted from the bushes and trees, the grass grew taller, and the wheat fields slowly took on a lively green.
So the little girl scattered flowers all over the place.Her apron was full of flowers--the flowers seemed to grow out of it, for, however eagerly she scattered them about, her apron was always full.With zeal she sprinkled a snowflake of blossoms on the apple and peach trees, so that they were lovely before the leaves were ready.
So she clapped her hands, and the boy clapped her hands too.Then many birds came - and no one knew where they came from.They murmured and sang: "Spring is here!"
It's a beautiful sight.Many old grandmothers staggered out into the sunlight.They stared at the yellow flowers growing everywhere in the fields as they did when they were young.The world is young again. "It's such a joy out there today!" said the old grandmother.
The forest is still brown-green and covered with buds.The fragrant and fresh woodruff has grown.The violets abound, and the anemones and primroses; every leaf is full of sap and strength.This is indeed a beautiful carpet to sit on, and a pair of young people in spring really sit on it arm in arm, singing, smiling, and growing.
A light drizzle fell on them from the sky, but they paid no attention to it.For raindrops and tears of joy mix together and become the same drop.The newlyweds kissed each other, and while they were kissing, the woods began to flourish.The sun has risen, and all the forests are dyed a layer of green.
The young newlyweds walked arm in arm under the drooping clusters of fresh leaves.Sunlight and shadow combine to create an infinite variety of shades on these green leaves.These delicate leaves are imbued with a scent of virginal purity and freshness.The brook gurgled brightly and merrily among the velvety green rushes, and over pebbles of many colors.All nature says: "The world is rich, and the world will always be rich!" The cuckoo is singing, and the lark is singing: it is beautiful spring.But the willows have put woolen gloves on their flowers--they guard themselves so carefully that it is a nuisance.
Days passed, weeks passed, and the heat came.The heat wave hits from the gradually yellowing wheat forest.The snow-white water lilies of the Northland spread their huge green leaves on the mirror-like lakes in the mountains.The fish ran under them to cool off.On the sheltered side of the woods, the sun shone down on the walls of the farmhouse, warming the roses in bloom; and the cherry trees hung sweaty, red-blackened, sun-heated berries.Here sits the beautiful "Summer" young woman - she is the child we saw earlier and the later bride.Her eyes were on a mass of dark clouds that were gathering; they were like overlapping mountain peaks, green and heavy, each rising higher and higher.They come together from three aspects.Like a fossilized, upside-down sea, they pressed down on the wood; and the wood, as if possessed, became silent.
There was no movement in the air; every bird became dumb.There is a majesty in nature—a tense silence.But on the roads and byways, pedestrians, riders, and motorists were busy seeking shelter.
At this time, it seemed that a flash of light burst out from the sun, burning, dazzling, and swallowing everything up.A thunderclap brought the darkness back.The rain was pouring down.A moment of night, a moment of day; a moment of silence, a moment of loud noise.The slender, brown, feathery reeds of the moor swayed back and forth like long waves.The branches in the woods were shrouded in mist.Then there was darkness, and then flashes; again silence, and then loud noise.Grass and wheat were beaten to the ground and soaked in water as if they would never rise again.But presently the rain was reduced to individual specks; the sun came out; the drops shone like pearls on the leaves and grass; the birds were singing; fish were leaping from the lake; the gnats were dancing.On the great rock in the salty, undulating waters sat Summer himself—a muscular man with thick limbs and long, dripping hair.He sat in the warm sun, and looked even more refreshed after taking a cold bath.Nature around me came alive again; everything seemed lush, strong and beautiful.It's summer, warm, lovely summer.
From the lush clover field rose a pleasant and sweet aroma; bees were humming and singing on the site of a fair.Thorns were spreading over the stone table that served as an altar.This altar, washed by the rain, shines in the sun's rays.The queen flew thither with her swarm of bees, busy making wax and honey.Only "Xiamen" and his strong wife saw this scene.This altar, heaped with the offerings of nature, is for them.
The evening sky shone with golden light, and no church dome was so gorgeous.The moonlight shines between the evening glow and the morning glow ①: This is summer.
Many days have passed, many weeks have passed, and the Harvest Man shines brightly. In northern Europe, especially in Sweden, there is a period in the summer when there is hardly any night.
Sickles glowed in the wheat fields; apple-tree branches bent down with reddish-yellow fruit.The hops hung low in clumps, giving off a sweet aroma.Clusters of nuts hang from the hazelnut grove.A man and woman—Summer and his quiet wife—rest here.
"What richness!" she said. "There is a sense of abundance all around, which makes one feel warm and comfortable. But I don't know why, I long for quiet and rest-I don't know how to express this feeling. Now everyone Working in the fields again. People always want more, more. Behold, storks come in flocks, and follow far behind the plowshares. Birds of Egypt that bring our children from the air Ah! Do you remember how we came to this northern country, when we were a pair of little children? We brought flowers, and the pleasant sunshine, and the green coat of the woods. The wind was very rough on the woods. Those trees were like the southern Like the trees, they turned black and brown; but they didn't bear golden fruit like those trees!"
"Do you want to see the golden fruit?" "Xiamen" said, "then please enjoy it."
He raises his arm.Then the leaves in the woods were dyed a deep red and golden; so the whole woods were dyed with beautiful colors.Roses glowed with bright red briar-seeds; clusters of black fruit hung heavy on elder-boughs; ripe wild chestnuts fell out of their shells.Deep in the woods, the violets are blooming again.
But this "Queen of the Year" grows quieter and paler day by day.
"The wind is blowing cold!" she said, "and the night has brought a damp mist. I long to return to my childhood home."
Then she saw the stork fly away.Every one flew away!She stretched out her hand behind them.She looked up at their nest - it was empty.In one nest grew a long-stemmed cornflower; in another a mustard plant grew, as if the nest was there to protect it.
So the sparrow flew up.
"Squeak! Where did the master go? When the wind picked up, he couldn't bear it anymore, so he left the country. I wish him a pleasant trip!"
The leaves in the woods are gradually turning yellow and falling one by one; the violent autumn wind is howling.It was late autumn; and the Queen of the Year lay on the yellow leaves, watching the shining stars with her gentle eyes, while her husband stood by her side.There was a gust of wind sweeping over the leaves; the leaves fell again, and the queen was gone, and only a butterfly—the last creature of the year—flew across the cold air.
A damp fog descended; then came a freezing wind and a long night.
This year the King's hair was all white, but he didn't know it; he thought it was snowflakes flying down from the clouds.Soon, a thin layer of snow covered the green fields.
At this time the Christmas bells were struck in the church.
"This is the birth bell!" said the king of the year, "and soon the new king and queen will be born. I shall go to rest like my wife—to the bright stars rest."
In a fresh, snow-covered green fir grove stood the Christmas Angel.He named these young trees as decorations for his Christmas party.
"May the drawing-room and under the green branches be filled with joy!" said the old king of the year.
Within a few weeks, he had become an old man with gray hair. "My time of rest is near. A young couple of the year will get my crown and king's day."
"Yet the rights are yours," said the Angel of Christmas, "you have rights, you cannot rest! Let the snow cover the young seeds warmly! Please learn to bear with the fact that others are honored, Although in reality you rule. Please learn to bear with the fact that others forget you, although in reality you are alive! When spring comes, your time of rest will not be far away."
"When will spring come?" "Winter" asked.
"He comes when the stork returns!"
"Winter" with white hair and beard, looks cold, stooped and old, but he is as strong as a winter storm and as strong as ice.He sat on the top of the snow in the snow, looking south, just as he had sat and looked the previous "winter".The ice was scraping; the snow was creaking; the skaters were floating on the smooth surface of the lake;The wind didn't move at all.In the soundless air, "Winter" clenched his fists tightly, and the ice formed several feet thick between the peaks.
At this time, the sparrow flew out of the city again, and asked at the same time, "Who is the old man over there?"
The Duwu sat there again—perhaps this was his son, all the same anyway—and said to them, "It was 'Winter'—the old man of last year. He didn't die as the almanac says; He is the protector of the coming spring."
"When will Spring come?" asked the Sparrow. "Only when he comes will we have happy times and better reigns! The old fellow is no good at all."
"Winter" looked at the leafless black forest and nodded thoughtfully.Every tree in the grove reveals the beautiful forms and curves of its branches.During this time of hibernation, icy mists descended from the clouds; and the ruler was reminded of his boyhood.When it was almost dawn, the whole forest had been covered with a layer of beautiful hoarfrost.This is "winter" summer night dream.Then the sun drove the hoarfrost from the branches.
"When will 'spring' come?" asked the sparrow.
"Spring!" came like an echo from the snow-covered hills.The sun is shining warmer, the snow is melting, and the birds are singing "spring is here"!
So the first stork flew high out of the sky, and then the second came too.On the back of each stork sat a beautiful child.They descended on the field and kissed the earth and the silent old man.Then the old man disappeared in a cloud of mist, like Moses standing on the mountain.
The story of this year is over.
"That's very nice!" said the sparrows, "and it's very beautiful, too, but it doesn't match what the almanac says, so it's wrong."
① According to the legends of the ancient Hebrews, Moses was their earliest lawgiver (see Chapter 34 of Exodus in the Old Testament), and the laws he made were negotiated with God when he stood on Mount Sina of.
① This is an old custom in Denmark: Every year on December 31, young people hit earthen pots on the door of the farmhouse, making a loud noise.At this time, the master came to chase them, and finally invited them to the house for a drink.
① The stork is a migratory bird.According to Danish folklore, it flies to Egypt to avoid the cold in winter; it is also a special envoy for "sending children": children are sent by it from faraway places.
① Refers to Jesus, whose birthday is Christmas.
② The custom of Christian countries: At Christmas time, there is always a richly decorated fir tree in the living room, and many Christmas gifts for children are hung on it.
