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THE POPLAR AND THE STREAM
Once upon a time . . . a woodcutter called Ivan lived ln a huge forest in
the north of Russia. A sturdy young man, with his bare hands he built himself
a stout log cabin and when it was finished, he thought he would look for a
wife. His dream was of a beautiful maiden, tall, slender and fair, with blue
eyes and a creamy skin.
On Sundays he roamed to distant villages looking for the girl of his
dreams. But the only girls he ever saw were dull and not pretty enough.
As it so happened, the path he took to work passed close to a pretty little
house with green shutters. Often, the corner of a curtain would be raised and
a sweet-faced girl would watch the woodcutter as he went by. For he had
unwittingly lit the flames of love in a maiden's heart. This young girl c
alled Natasha; she was very shy, but her love for the woodcutter was so great
that, one day, she plucked up enough courage to stop him on the path.
"I picked this basket of strawberries myself," she said. "Please eat them
and think of me!"
"Well, she's not exactly ugly," said Ivan to himself as he stared woodenly
at Natasha, who was blushing to the roots of her hair.
"I don't like strawberries," he replied bluntly. "But thanks all the same!"
Tears sprang to Natasha's eyes as she watched him stride away. A few days
later, the girl again stopped Ivan and held out a woolen jacket saying: "The
air will be chilly tonight when you go home. This will keep you warm. I made it
myself."
But Ivan coldly replied: "What makes you think that a man like me is afraid
of the cold?"
And this time, at Ivan's refusal, two tears rolled down Natasha's rosy
cheeks and she fled sobbing into the house.
However, Natasha again watched for the woodcutter. This time, she held out
a bottle and said: "You can t refuse a liqueur that I distilled from all the
fruits of the forest! It will ..." But Ivan broke in saying: "I don't like
liqueurs," and I marched straight on. However, he realized he had been very
rude, so he turned round, but Natasha had gone. As he walked, he said to
himself: " She has gentle eyes . . . and she must be very kind-hearted!
Perhaps I should take at least one of her gifts, but . . ." The picture of his
dream girl slipped into his mind. "I'm so unhappy!" he sighed.
At that very moment, on a golden cloud appeared a beautiful lady. "Will you
sing a song for me? I'm Rosalka, one of the woodland fairies!" Ivan stood
thunderstruck.
"I'd sing for you for the rest of my life!" he exclaimed "If only I could
. . ." and he stretched out his hand to touch the fairy, but she floated out
of reach amongst the branches.
"Sing then! Sing! Only the sound of your voice will ever send me to sleep!"
So Ivan happily sang all the old lullabies and love songs, while the drowsy
fairy urged him on: "Sing! Sing!"
Cold and weary, his voice getting hoarser the woodcutter sang till evening,
as he tried to help the fairy to fall asleep. But when night fell, Rosalka was
still demanding: "If you love me, sing on! Sing!"
As the woodcutter sang on, in a feeble voice, he kept thinking: "I wish I
had a jacket to keep me warm!"
Suddenly he remembered Natasha.
"What a fool I am!" he told himself. "I should have chosen her as my bride,
not this woman who asks and gives nothing in return!"
Ivan felt that only the gentle-faced Natasha could fill his empty heart. He
fled into the darkness, but he heard a cruel voice call: ". . . you'll never
see her again! All her tears for her great love have turned her into a stream!
You'll never see her again!"
It was dawn when Ivan knocked at Natasha's door. No one answered. And the
woodcutter saw, with fear, that close by flowed a tiny sparkling stream he had
never noticed before. Weeping sorrowfully, he plunged his face into the water.
"Oh, Natasha, how could I have been so blind! And I love you now!" Lifting
his gaze to the sky, he silently said a prayer:"Let me stay beside her
forever! " ||
Ivan was magically turned into a young poplar tree and the stream bathed its
roots. Natasha had, at last, her beloved Ivan by her side for ever.