verkita de Hans Christian Andersen
tradukita de HeYafu
Iam esin papilio kiu dezirin spozino, ay, az oni povan supozi, hi volin elekti iu tre bela el inter la floros. Hi glansin, per tre kritikema okulo, ciu floraros, ay eltrovin, ke la floros kwiete ay modeste sidin sur sia tigos, precize az devan sidi flawlinos antaw fiancisi; sed lu esin multe nombra, ay simin, ke hia sercado farison tre teda. La papilio ne volin tro jeni si, tial hi forflugin por viziti la dayzos. La fransano noman tiu floro "Margarita," ay lu diran, ke la dayzo kapablan prediri. Lovantos plukan la folios, ay plukante ciu folios, lu askan al sia lovatos , tiel: "Cu hi or xi lovan mi? -- Arde? disatente? Ege? Iomete? Tute ne?" ay tiel plu. Ciu parlan tiu wordos en sia lango. Anke la papilio venin al Margarita por aski, sed hi ne plukin xia folios; sur ciu el xu hi premin kiso, pensante, ke per afableco oni ciam mor gude sukceson.
"Dera Margarita dayzo," hi dirin al xi, "yi esan la most saja madamo el ciu floros. Mi petan, direz al mi, kiu floro mi elektez az spozino. Kiu wedison kum mi? Konante tio, mi tuy flugon al xi ay proponon wediso."
Sed Margarita ne respondin al hi; xi esin ofendita, ke hi nomin xi madamo kiam xi esin nura flawlino; ay ja esan granda difero. Hi biu foye askin xi, ay triu; sed xi restin muta, ay respondin even ne per un wordo. Tiam hi ne plu atendin, sed forflugin, por tuy starti sia wuo. Tio okazin en frua printempo, kiam la krokusos ay la nivdropo fule florin.
"Xu esan tre bela," pensin la papilio; "carma kidinetos; sed tre formala."
Tiam, az la yunulos ofte faran, hi sercin la mor aja kidinos. Hi flugin al la anemonos; tiu esin tre disdolca por hia gusto. La violo, iom sentimentema. La limonfloros, tro eta, ay cetere, xu esin tiom granda familo. La pomfloros, kwankam xu aspektin az rozos, florin hodie, sed eble forfalon morge, okaze de la unu vento tra-blovanta; ay hi supozin, ke wediso kum un el tiu eble adon tro dislonge. La pizofloro most apelin al hi; xi esin wayta ay reda, gracia ay svelta, ay esin un el tiu doma frawlinos, kiu esan bela ay povan utili en la kukeyo. Hi pretin proponi al xi wediso kiam, prokse apud la frawlino, hi vidin pizuyo, kum velkinta floro pendanta.¡¡
"Kiu esan tiu?" hi askin.
"Tiu esan mia fratino," respondin la pizofloro.
"Ha, vere; ay yi iam similon xi," dirin hi; ay hi tuy forflugin, tre xokite.
Lonicero pendin el la hejo, fule floranta; sed ja esin tiom da simila frawlinos, kum longa fasos ay flaveta derm-koloros. Ne; hi tute ne aman xi. Sed kiu hi do aman.¡¡
Printempo pasin, ay somero alproksin til al sia fino; awtuno venin; sed hi ankore ne decidin. La floros nun aperin en sia most belega robos, sed tute vane; mankin al xu la frexa, aroma bonodoro de la yuneco. Car la koro petan aromeco, even kiam ji yam ne esan yuna; ay tio esan nur disfacile trovebla en la dalios or la seka krisantemos; la papilio do turnin si al la surtera mento. Yi konan, ke tiu planto ne havan floro; sed ji esan entute dolca -- aromofula de hedo til pedo, kum flora odoro sur ciu folio.¡¡
"Mi akcepton xi," dirin la papilio; ay hi farin al xi propono. Sed la mento starin silente ay stife, awdante hi. Finfine xi dirin,
"Amikeco, if yi voluz; nio mor. Mi esan disyuna, ay yi esan disyuna, sed mu povan vivi un por la alia juste la sama; sed pri wediso -- ne; ne lasez mu aperi lafinda je mua ajo."
Ay tiel okazin, ke la papilio tute ne trovin spozino. Hi wastin tro da tempo, elektante, kio ciam esan mala ideo. Ay la papilio farisin disyuna frawlulo.
Yam esin disfrue en la awtuno, kum pluva ay nuba wetero. La frosta vento blovin trans la kurva dorsos de la salikos, tial ke lu denove krekin. Ne esin wetero por flugi en somera dreso; sed boncanse la papilio ne esin en ji. Hi hazarde trovin xirmo. Tio esin en cambro warmizita de forno, tiel warme az en somero. Hi povin egzisti ci tie, hi dirin, sufice gude.¡¡
"Sed ne sufican nur egzisti," hi dirin, "mi bezonan libero, sunlumo, ay floreto az kumino."
Tiam hi alflugin fenetro-vitro, ay hi esin vidita ay admirita de tiu en la cambro, kiu kaptin hi ay trapinglin hi en kesto de kurioso. Lu ne povin fari mor por hi.
"Nun mi percan sur tigo, same az la floros," dirin la papilio. "Tio ne esan plezura, certe; mi imagan, ke ji iom similan wedeco; car ci tie mi esan fiksite." Ay per tiu penso hi iomete konsolin si.
"Tio sime esan tre mala konsolo," dirin un el la plantos, kreskanta en poto, en la cambro.
"Ha," pensin la papilio," oni tamen ne povan trusti tiu enpota plantos; lu tro prokse rilatan kum la humaro."
There was once a butterfly who wished for a bride, and, as may be supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He glanced, with a very critical eye, at all the flower-beds, and found that the flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens should sit before they are engaged; but there was a great number of them, and it appeared as if his search would become very wearisome. The butterfly did not like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies. The French call this flower ¡°Marguerite,¡± and they say that the little daisy can prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf, they ask a question about their lovers; thus: ¡°Does he or she love me?¡ªArdently? Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?¡± and so on. Every one speaks these words in his own language. The butterfly came also to Marguerite to inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness.
¡°Darling Marguerite daisy,¡± he said to her, ¡°you are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly directly to her, and propose.¡±
But Marguerite did not answer him; she was offended that he should call her a woman when she was only a girl; and there is a great difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third; but she remained dumb, and answered not a word. Then he would wait no longer, but flew away, to commence his wooing at once. It was in the early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom.
¡°They are very pretty,¡± thought the butterfly; ¡°charming little lasses; but they are rather formal.¡±
Then, as the young lads often do, he looked out for the elder girls. He next flew to the anemones; these were rather sour to his taste. The violet, a little too sentimental. The lime-blossoms, too small, and besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple-blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall off to-morrow, with the first wind that blew; and he thought that a marriage with one of them might last too short a time. The pea-blossom pleased him most of all; she was white and red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer, when, close by the maiden, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.
¡°Who is that?¡± he asked.
¡°That is my sister,¡± replied the pea-blossom.
¡°Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day,¡± said he; and he flew away directly, for he felt quite shocked.
A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom; but there were so many girls like her, with long faces and sallow complexions. No; he did not like her. But which one did he like?
Spring went by, and summer drew towards its close; autumn came; but he had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes, but all in vain; they had not the fresh, fragrant air of youth. For the heart asks for fragrance, even when it is no longer young; and there is very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry chrysanthemums; therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on the ground. You know, this plant has no blossom; but it is sweetness all over,¡ªfull of fragrance from head to foot, with the scent of a flower in every leaf.
¡°I will take her,¡± said the butterfly; and he made her an offer. But the mint stood silent and stiff, as she listened to him. At last she said,¡ª
¡°Friendship, if you please; nothing more. I am old, and you are old, but we may live for each other just the same; as to marrying¡ªno; don¡¯t let us appear ridiculous at our age.¡±
And so it happened that the butterfly got no wife at all. He had been too long choosing, which is always a bad plan. And the butterfly became what is called an old bachelor.
It was late in the autumn, with rainy and cloudy weather. The cold wind blew over the bowed backs of the willows, so that they creaked again. It was not the weather for flying about in summer clothes; but fortunately the butterfly was not out in it. He had got a shelter by chance. It was in a room heated by a stove, and as warm as summer. He could exist here, he said, well enough.
¡°But it is not enough merely to exist,¡± said he, ¡°I need freedom, sunshine, and a little flower for a companion.¡±
Then he flew against the window-pane, and was seen and admired by those in the room, who caught him, and stuck him on a pin, in a box of curiosities. They could not do more for him.
¡°Now I am perched on a stalk, like the flowers,¡± said the butterfly. ¡°It is not very pleasant, certainly; I should imagine it is something like being married; for here I am stuck fast.¡± And with this thought he consoled himself a little.
¡°That seems very poor consolation,¡± said one of the plants in the room, that grew in a pot.
¡°Ah,¡± thought the butterfly, ¡°one can¡¯t very well trust these plants in pots; they have too much to do with mankind.¡±