Markova Nataliya S. : другие произведения.

The Tale Of The Fisherman And The Fisherwoman

Самиздат: [Регистрация] [Найти] [Рейтинги] [Обсуждения] [Новинки] [Обзоры] [Помощь|Техвопросы]
Ссылки:
Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
 Ваша оценка:
  • Аннотация:
    A modern version of the Goldfish tale. Сказка о рыбаке и рыбачке translated by the author.
  

THE TALE OF THE FISHERMAN AND THE FISHERWOMAN

  
  

Natalia Markova

  
   Once upon a time, at the very edge of the blue sea, there lived a Fisherman and a Fisherwoman. The Fisherman would go to sea on a trawler while his wife counted down the days to his return working at the fish cannery.
   At night, stretched out on his hard bunk in the stuffy hold, the Fisherman would indulge in dreams, "You just wait, once the fishing season is over, I'll be back home, a tidy sum of money in my pocket, we'll get ourselves new furniture and new curtains, and I'll live in comfort with my beautiful wife."
   Gutting fish in the stench of the cannery, the Fisherwoman would mutter to herself: "You just wait, I'll earn some money, and buy a new dress and a crimson scarf, and I'll go out to the seashore to meet my husband's trawler. I'll wave the crimson scarf at the trawler, and my Fisherman will see me from afar. And those who will see us strolling hand in hand, all decked-out and cheerful, will say, "What a beautiful couple!"
   At the mess room table, cramped between his companions, the Fisherman, munching hardtack and corn beef and washing it down with water from a cracked mug, would console himself, "You just wait, I'll be back home, and we'll get ourselves new red-and-white polka-dot cups, and we'll be having tea and chocolates, my wife and I, and I'll kiss her hard and I'll stroke her fair hair, and we'll live happily ever after."
   At her work bench, the Fisherwoman, washing fish blood and scales from her swollen hands, would tot up her earnings, "You just wait, we'll set aside some money, we'll buy a new house, warm and spacious, and there we'll live, rich and happy."
  
   A year passed. The Fisherman and the Fisherwoman got themselves new curtains and new cups, red-and-white polka-dotted. Another year passed, and the Fisherwoman started going out to the seashore wearing a new silk dress. Once the husband's trawler came in view, she waved her crimson scarf in greeting. In time they could afford new furniture.
   So they saved and saved. Then the cups got smashed, the curtains faded, the silk dress was threadbare, the furniture was rickety-still the new house stayed out of reach.
   The Fisherman and his wife were as frugal as could be; they received no guests, they made no visits, saving every penny for their new house. Now the Fisherwoman didn't have time to meet her husband from the voyage, her crimson scarf stayed idle in the bottom drawer.
  
   Once, sitting over tea and chocolates, the Fisherman glanced at his wife and thought, "Her forehead wrinkled like this, her eyes dull like this, her mouth pursed, how could I think she was pretty?"
   And the Fisherwoman glanced at her husband and thought, "His face is so red, his neck so burly, his voice so coarse, how could I think he was handsome?"
   Without a word said, the Fisherman and the Fisherwoman washed the cups and went to bed.
  
   On the following morning the Fisherman went out to sea on his trawler. As the time passed, an evil thought began eating away at him:
   "Here am I, out on the sea, swayed by the storms, swept by the wind, washed by the waves, while she's staying safely at home, all snug and warm, waiting while I earn the money for a house."
   In the meantime the Fisherwoman was gutting fish at the cannery, feeling very disgruntled.
   "Not a single word from the Fisherman for almost a year. It's all very well for him out there, in the fresh sea breeze and bright sunshine, while I'm suffering here in filth and stench."
   She was scaling and gutting fish, muttering to herself like this, when suddenly she heard a tiny, whining voice.
   "My lovely gracious lady, don't take off my scales! If you kindly throw me back to the sea, I'll grant any wish you care to make."
   "You must be the Goldfish, then," guessed the Fisherwoman. "Well, you can stay in a jar till I finish my work. Hey, how come that for all your magic you got caught in the net?"
   "See, my magic is sort of wretched. It's only the others' wishes that I can fulfill."
   "But will you give my wish, indeed?"
   "I will, but first throw me into the sea. You know, some people already tried to fool me."
   "Won't you fool me yourself?"
   "I can't. If, God forbid, a word of fraud is out, people won't believe me any longer, and I'll end up in a can."
   What could she ask the Fish for? A new dress? Furniture? A house? Her husband to be back?
   Once her shift was over, the Fisherwoman hurried to the seashore.
   "I'd like to have enough money to buy everything I dreamed of. And a new husband, young and handsome. Do it, now!"
   "First throw me into the water!"
   Plonk! With a silent flash of lightning in the dark sky, the Fish disappeared into the water.
  
   As the Fisherwoman drew closer to her home, she heard the sound of a harmonica coming from the window. As the Fisherwoman opened the door, what she saw was a ragged tramp, sprawled out in a chair, all at his ease, blowing the harmonica.
   "Where do you hail from, who you are?"
   "A homeless tramp I've been, suffering from cold and hunger. Neither kin, nor friends. Not much fun when you're on your own! Then I saved the Goldfish, and it gave me you for a wife."
   "Oh, Goldfish, I really like that! That's what you call granting wishes!" she said to herself. Then she addressed to the tramp again:
   "All right then, go and wash yourself, you're so grubby. It's okay for dinner, but no way to stay overnight!"
   There is the tramp, washed clean, his hair neatly combed, wearing the Fisherman's clothes. He must be very hungry; see, how hurriedly he's gobbling up his dinner. Oh, can it be true? Isn't he rather good-looking? Tall and slim, black-eyed and curly-haired. Ah, if only he wouldn't be a beggar!
   "All right, then. You can stay overnight, but in the morning you'll hit the road!"
   After dinner the Fisherwoman went upstairs to make the bed for the stranger. What's that chest beside the bed?
   "Is that your dowry, you, bridegroom?"
   "That is the gift from the Goldfish. It gave this chest to me saying that only your hand could open it. As long as we are together, this chest will never be empty."
   "Tut-tut!" clucked the Fisherwoman at the sight of the crude chest.
   "Ouff!" she squeaked as she opened the lid.
   "Wow!" the sight made her dizzy, for the chest was crammed with money.
  
   Now the Fisherwoman could buy everything she had dreamed of, a new house, warm and spacious, new furniture and curtains, and a lot of new dresses, silk, lace and satin.
  
   There she is, sitting at the table, having tea and chocolates, watching her new young husband affectionately. Sparing no expense to please him - the latest things in Italian shoes, the trendiest French suits, the fanciest American car, the best Japanese camcorder.
  
  But sometimes she felt as if a needle pricked her in the very heart. Whenever the Fisherwoman found herself on the seashore, she heard the waves reproach her, "You wasted no time in forgetting the Fisherman." Every glance into the mirror made her sigh bitterly, "If the mirror sees my graying hair and wrinkles, so does my beloved husband. Does he indeed? No, he doesn't, he's so nice and courteous. Or does he? Goodness only knows. An autumn and a winter we've whiled away together, still I can't guess what he's up to, blowing his harmonica from dawn till sunset, gazing through the frosty window."
  
   Then spring came, alive with golden cowslips and cats' mewling. The sun was smiling merrily from the blue sky and calling everyone outdoors. The young husband's eyes glittered excitedly.
  
"Farewell, full cupboard and cozy bed!
Snowdrops are calling me ahead.
Farewell, my wife, farewell, my dear,
The call of spring is loud and clear."

"How can you leave me alone here!"

"Forgive me being so unfair,
You'll get another man in your care.
Easy come and easy go."
"You stayed with me for bread and home?"

"The vagabond's destiny is to roam."
  
   For three days and three nights was the Fisherwoman crying bitterly over the empty chest; then she washed herself, combed her hair and set off to the seashore.
   "Whimsical was the sand castle, and gone with the waves in seconds; you've granted me happiness, Goldfish, and I proved unable to keep it. Oh Goldfish, please come and help me out once again!"
   The Fish's head thrust up from the sea.
   The woman burst out sobbing, "Everything you gave me proved so fickle!"
   "Blame it on yourself, my dear," now, speaking from the sea, the Fish sounded tough and self-assured. "You spent my money without bothering to count it, whereas you could've bought a canning plant lock, stock and barrel. Sure, running a cannery isn't easy, but you would have had a stable income. And you've squandered everything on trifles. Complaining that your husband has deserted you? For good reason he did it. Why did you venerate him as if he were an icon? Had he been toiling for you, that would have attached him with a rope as stout as iron. Indeed, helping the stupid is useless, and changing you is beyond my power."
   "Hang on, Goldfish, don't leave me! Since I'm unable to think of a new happiness, at least bring back my old husband!"
   A distant thunder rumbled in the seamless blue sky, and the Fish was off.
  
   The woman had her wish, back came the Fisherman, but hard to recognize. No more strength in his large hands, the eyes drained of their blueness, the suntan faded, the voice faint and weak.
   The Fisherwoman's heart shuddered.
   "Are you all right? Where have you been so long?"
   "As soon as you stopped waiting for me, my good fortune faltered. A huge wave rolled over me, hurled me off the deck and whirled me into the blue-and-green gloom. A long time I lay there, heaped up with white sand, until your will and the Fish's spell raised me from the sea-bed."
   The Fisherwoman put a kettle on the fire.
   "Warm up yourself and rest, dear. I've been missing you so badly!"
   The Fisherman and the Fisherwoman had tea in silence. Eagerly the woman waited for her husband to stroke her hair, to kiss her hard. In vain. Silently she did the dishes, silently she made the bed, silently she swallowed her tears.
  
   In the dead of night, the Fisherwoman woke up as the ray of moonlight peeked through the window.
   She saw her husband, his eyes closed, get up from bed and leave, led by the moon-ray. The Fisherwoman followed him, calling after him. He didn't hear, walking on and on toward the sea. There he was, ankle-deep in water, the water glistening in the darkness; there he was, up to his knees, up to his waist in the sea, the moon-ray shimmering on the ripples. Then his shoulders went underwater, then his neck disappeared ...
   The Fisherwoman wept bitterly on the shore - once again she had lost her husband.
   "Fish, oh Goldfish, please come and help me out, just for the last time!"
   The Fish emerged from the foam.
   "You again? I'm really sick of you! You don't know yourself what you want! Now, out with your wish and get a move on!"
   "I... I don't know what to wish, no idea. Please, Goldfish, just make me happy!" dd>   dd>   ---------------------------------------------------- THE FIRST ENDING
   Off went the Fish without a sound. The sky became slightly pinkish. The trawler sprang up on the horizon. The ship came closer and closer, while staying as distant as before. On the deck, the suntanned Fisherman was yelling something over the roar of the engine. The Fisherwoman was waiting on the seashore, her crimson scarf flowing in the breeze.
   ------------------------------------------------------- THE SECOND ENDING The Fisherwoman looked around. Again, she found herself in the old house, her shabby miserable house. Old furniture. Faded curtains. Cups, red-and-white polka-dot. dd>  'Oh Fish, why did you do it to me? I didn't ask you to make me the Mistress of the Sea, did I?' The door flung open. 'Mom, hurry up, mom! Daddy's trawler is coming!' Things that had never existed came into being - husband's hand on the heavy belly, labour pains, uh, it hurts! - when suddenly - joy and relief, breasts full of milk, little lips smacking avidly at her nipple, cooing, holding up his head, crawling, staggering on his little feet, uttering his first word, short trousers... and again, birth, breastfeeding, again childhood diseases, the whir of a sewing machine, - the little girl needs a pretty dress, the kid's schoolbag, scuffles in the schoolyard... All that had happened to her, it's her pain and fears, she's happy now! Here's the crimson scarf! All three of them are running to the sea to meet the Fisherman's trawler.
 Ваша оценка:
Связаться с программистом сайта.

Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души" М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"

Как попасть в этoт список

Кожевенное мастерство | Сайт "Художники" | Доска об'явлений "Книги"