legenda unui brad in engleza
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Autumn had come. All the migratory birds had left for the warm countries. Only a very mythical pussy could not fly after the flock, her eyes watering with tears. He had a broken wing, just like in the story with the quail's chick, with the French wing of a hunter's alice…
The poor bird, with a heart full of mourning, went with difficulty to the forest to ask for help from the trees.
In a tender voice, he prayed to the trees:
- Look, I have a broken wing. Let me live among your branches until spring comes.
- I can't take you in, pussy! the beech replied grumpily. It's enough for me to take care of my branches. Get out of here and go to the oak!
- I can not either! the wicked oak swayed. I'm afraid you won't eat my acorns. Run, pussy, somewhere else! If not, I'll break your other wing.
That's how they chased the poor pussy and the other trees in the forest. Poor her!
He was on the verge of despair when he heard a voice:
"Where are you going, pussy?"
It was the Christmas tree.
- I don't know where to go anymore, fir tree. The trees have all persecuted me and do not want to receive me into their branches. Look, my wing hurts and I can't fly anymore. Oh, my God, what a pain!
- Come to me! said the fir-tree, moved by the poor bird's fate. You can stay as long as you want between my branches!
Then the pussy climbed up and made its bed among the branches of the tree. But one night, the cold wind began to blow hard. A sign that winter was approaching. The leaves of the trees turned yellow and fell to the ground, one by one.
- Can I shake the fir leaves too? the wind asked Santa Crivăţ, the emperor of the Winds.
- Not! decided old Crivăţ. Don't touch the tree at all. The tree was good with the poor pussy. We must have pity on him too. Green jewelry should never fall off.
It is said that, since then, the good fir has kept its green leaves both in summer and in winter.