Читать книгу River of fairy tales. Unprofessional translation from Russian онлайн

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Meanwhile the Farmer reaped all his harvest by himself, threshed it and put in the sacs. He had to work night and day. Tired and exhausted as he was, the farmer felt happy – not a single seed was lost.

The fall came. The weather turned to cold, winds and nasty rains. There were no mushrooms and berries in the forest anymore. The winter came and each one had whatever he managed to stock during the summer.

The Farmer had a full house of fine, selected wheat. He just grinds the flour and makes pancakes. Enjoys them with tea and jam and rejoices.

And the Merchant sits on his sac of gold, hungry and mad. Finally, he started to shout to the farmer, to call him to his hut. The Farmer came to the ditch filled up with water and asked:

«Now, why have you called me, my good neighbor?»

«Do you remember you offered me your wheat? I thought it over and decided to help you a bit! I agree to take your harvest,» the Merchant said discontentedly.

«Yes, I did,» the Farmer agreed. «But I asked you to help me! You refused to plow and drag; you didn’t have time to fertilize and weed the field away. I had to water my field all alone. And when I asked you to come and reap the harvest, and to thresh it, you even chased me away!»