Magic - Povestea Bradutului
CRACIUN DE POVESTE
Puiutul de brad traia acum momente de groaza. Nu ii spusese nimeni, dar simtea ca ieri vazuse ultimul rasarit de soare al copilariei sale.
Aparuse pe lume intr-o cresa de braduti. Si-a dat seama in timp, pentru ca dupa gardul de sarma care inconjura locul acela, in care el si multi alti braduti se ridicau spre cer, in fiecare zi mai mult, era o padure. Multi brazi, falnici, seniorii. Acestia nu prea vorbeau cu ei. Poate din cauza ca erau ai nimanui. Crescusera din niste seminte puse acolo de mana omului. Padurea era ceva aproape fioros pentru bradutii din cresa. Nimeni nu ii baga in seama. Nu intelegeau ce se intampla. De exemplu, nu intelegeau de ce puiutii de brad din padure aveau mai mare trecere la brazii batrani. Discutase asta cu prietenii lui, dar nici ei nu aveau de unde sa stie.
Incet-incet, i-au mai crescut si lui cateva ramurele. Isi dorea foarte mult ca bradul acela batran, cu cetina bogata, care isi ducea batranetile langa gardutul cresei, sa-l asculte macar o data.
A incercat de multe ori sa-si faca auzit glasul subtirel.
"Domnule Brad, va rog...", dar batranul nu-l lua in seama. Poate nici nu mai auzea prea bine. Era asa de inalt, incat Puiul de brad nici nu-i vedea bine varful.
S-a gandit ce s-a gandit si si-a dat seama ca trebuie sa fie mai puternic, la fel si glasul lui. Asa ca ori de cate ori ploua, Puiul de brad sorbea cu nesat picaturile de ploaie. Cum venea spre el o raza de soare, isi intindea cele cateva crengute de parca ar fi vrut sa inghita tot soarele. Intr-o zi s-a intamplat minunea.
Se trezise plin de incredere si parca visase chiar ca vorbise cu Domnul Brad. Asa ca, plin de speranta, si-a adunat toate fortele si a mai facut o incercare: "Domnule Brad!". De data aceasta, glasul sfios si-a gasit drum spre urechile Batranului Brad. Acesta a mormait putin, si-a aplecat varful, mirat ca tocmai un pui de brad din cresa il deranjeaza. Puiul de brad tremura din toate acele si astepta... "Ce s-a intamplat cu tine, puiutule? De ce nu stai linistit acolo?" "Domnule Brad, Domnule Brad, va multumesc ca vorbiti cu mine!", spuse Puiutul de Brad, cu lacrimi in ochi. ...Nu stia de ce, dar Bradul cel Batran a stat mult de vorba cu el. I-a povestit multe, l-a imbarbatat si l-a sfatuit ca orice s-ar intampla sa nu-si piarda niciodata increderea in sine. Si sa fie curajos mereu... orice s-ar intampla...
Prevestirile rele
Acum, cand se implinea prima dintre prevestirile rele ale Batranului, Puiul de brad se intreba daca nu ar fi fost mai bine sa nu caute sa afle ce soarta pot avea ei, bradutii de cresa. Sau chiar cu un brad crescut asa, in mijlocul padurii. El si alti braduti calatoreau inghesuiti, unii peste altii, in remorca unui camion. Unii dintre ei plangeau, speriati. Altii plangeau pentru ca deja le era dor de pamantul care ii ajutase sa creasca si acum nu se putusera impotrivi smulgerii lor. Nu stiau unde vor fi dusi. Nici Puiul de brad nu stia. Dar ceea ce ii spusese atunci Batranul Brad nu ii dadea nici un motiv de liniste. Incerca sa-i potoleasca pe braduti, sa nu mai planga, spunandu-le: "Asa e viata de bradut de cresa! Ne nastem intr-un loc si suntem dusi in alte locuri sa le facem frumoase, sa tinem umbra...". Bradutii il respectau, caci stiau ca el a putut vorbi cu Bradul cel Batran. Dar unii dintre ei, chiar daca nu mai plangeau in hohote, suspinau gatuiti de emotie si de frica.
Puiul de brad ar fi plans si el, dar stia ca nu are cum sa schimbe ceva. Asa ca si-a strans crengutele pe langa el si a asteptat. Avea o viata inainte ca sa afle...
Visul
A cazut intr-un somn adanc. Si a visat...
Se facea ca nu fusese smuls din cresa si toti bradutii crescusera acolo mari, frumosi, inalti, ca Batranul Brad. Si pe langa ei rasarisera acum puiuti de brad, dar care nu erau ca ei, niste orfani. Fiecare bradut avea un brad mare care il ingrijea. Cand soarele era prea arzator, il umbrea cu crengile lui; cand vantul era prea puternic, se apleca si il ocrotea pe micut, chiar daca el, marele brad, isi mai pierdea cate un brat. Dupa accidentele acestea, un timp, bradul ranit pierdea multa seva; dar locul se cicatriza si uneori chiar cresteau alte crengute. Iarna, micutii erau sfatuiti sa nu incerce sa-si scoata varful de sub zapada, ca altfel mor inghetati. Era iar primavara, cand pasarelele se harjoneau la lumina soarelui. Puiul de brad zambi in somn. Ce frumos era! Sau atunci cand unii dintre ei se mai imbolnaveau, era chemata imediat Doamna Ciocanitoare; le curata ranile si totul revenea la normal. Se mai temeau cateodata, cand veneau oamenii sa se plimbe prin padure. Era pericol mare! Odata, brazii liberi, din padure, au scapat ca prin urechile acului de o mare nenorocire. Dar cu toate lacrimile lor nu au putut sa-i salveze pe micutii din cresa de la marginea padurii. Atunci, oamenii rai au facut un foc si nu l-au stins bine cand au plecat inapoi in orasul lor. Si noaptea, din cauza vantului, jarul s-a aprins, iar focul a luat viata a mii si mii de puiuti de brad.
Singurul care a supravietuit a fost Batranul Brad de astazi. Cel care l-a ascultat pe micut. Caci el stia ce inseamna sa fii bradut de cresa. Aici, Puiul de brad parca nici nu mai visa. Incepuse sa-si aduca aminte cu groaza de cele povestite de batran. Puiutului i-au dat lacrimile cand a ascultat povestea Batranului. "Dupa ce toti fratii si prietenii mei din cresa au murit, brazii din padure m-au adoptat. Nu au fost rai cu mine. Acum eram de doua ori orfan. Si m-au ajutat sa cresc. E tare mult de atunci si m-am bucurat mult sa vad ca oamenii au facut din nou cresa in locul acesta. Sa stii ca nici un bradut nu vine intamplator pe lume. Fiecare e bun la ceva."
"La ce suntem buni noi, bradutii?", a intrebat atunci Puiutul. Caci in mintea lui credea ca toata viata va trai acolo in tarcul acela. "Eheeei! La multe poate fi bun un brad!", a raspuns Batranul.
Asa a aflat Puiutul ca unii dintre brazi au norocul sa ramana in padure multi, multi ani, pana mor de batranete sau sunt franti de viscol sau ucisi de vreun fulger. Poate ei sunt cei mai fericiti. Alti braduti, din nefericire, mor de mici, asa ca nu ajung niciodata sa priveasca pe deasupra padurii, sa vada muntii, apele, oamenii. Bradutii iubesc oamenii. Nu toti sunt rai! Sunt oameni care vin si ii ingrijesc, care le spun: "Ce mult va iubim, brazilor!". Si atunci, de fericire, brazii isi fosgaie acele si le raspund oamenilor: "Si noi va iubim pe voi!". Ce frumos e sa fii iubit!
Unde ajung bradutii?
Aducandu-si aminte de aceste vorbe ale Batranului Brad, Puiutul s-a bucurat si s-a intristat in acelasi timp. Stia ca pierduse sansa de a mai trai in padure. Dar, cine stie, poate avea noroc. Alti braduti, continuase Batranul, sunt luati de aici, din cresa, si sunt dusi spre alte locuri sa faca frumos acolo. Unii nimeresc in gradinile oamenilor si sunt iubiti si ingrijiti, iar iarna sunt impodobiti ca sa bucure sufletul copiilor. Asta e bine numai daca traiesc in curte. Alti braduti, cand nu au crescut cine stie cat, sunt pur si simplu ucisi! Sunt taiati deasupra radacinii si dusi in casele oamenilor, tot pentru a fi impodobiti. Dar ce pacat ca impodobesc un bradut mort! Si bradutul se usuca, apoi este aruncat la gunoi. Acestia sunt cei mai tristi braduti. "De ce sunt taiati bradutii, Batranule Brad?" "Oamenii vor sa le faca o bucurie copiilor lor, dar nu stiu ca asa indurereaza o padure intreaga, cand ii ucide copiii."
Povestile Batranului Brad
Acum statea Puiutul de brad si se gandea cum sa le spuna el asta fratilor lui, care calatoreau - cine stie unde? - alaturi de el in acel camion!
Batranul Brad avea multe de povestit. Traise cateva veacuri. Si in fiecare zi, cand se trezea din somn, Puiutul isi ridica repede varful si il chema pe Batran sa-i mai spuna ceva. Unele dintre povesti le traise chiar el, altele le auzise de la brazii cei batrani, care de mult nu mai erau in radacinile lor. Fiecare brad are de dat un tribut. Unii sunt facuti sa faca umbra toata viata, altii sa bucure copiii oamenilor, altii, avea sa afle intr-o dimineata Puiutul, sunt lasati sa creasca, apoi vin oamenii si ii taie. "Asa mari?" "Asa mari!"
Si ce se intampla cu ei? Si acestia au o soarta diferita. Unii vor fi pusi pe foc, pentru ca sa fie cald in casele oamenilor, altii vor fi facuti bucati, vor fi curatati de scoarta si iar taiati in bucati si mai mici si ajung fie vreo masa, fie vreun scaun. Cine stie, depinde de ce vor oamenii sa faca din ei! "Ingrozitor!", a raspuns Puiutul.
Acum, Puiul de brad era la prima calatorie din viata lui. Spera sa fie si ultima. Sa fie dus undeva si sa se hotarasca o data ce vor face cu el! Tremura din toate acele si voia sa afle mai repede care era soarta lui. Ce au hotarat oamenii?
Au calatorit mult cu camionul acela. A venit noaptea si bradutii au crezut ca au ajuns la destinatie, caci, la un moment dat, masina s-a oprit. Dar nu a fost asa. In zori au plecat mai departe. In sfarsit, dupa doua zile si doua nopti, s-au trezit luati pe sus de varfuri si aliniati frumos langa un gard. De acolo, o mana de femeie ii lua si ii planta intr-un ghiveci mare, de lemn.
Dupa cateva zile de la plantarea in ghiveci, Bradutul, care intre timp isi mai revenise, si alti cativa prieteni de ai lui au vazut apropi-indu-se de ei un Om Mare cu o fetita de mana. "Pe care vrei sa il luam?", a intrebat Omul Mare. Fetita s-a tot invartit pe langa braduti. In cele din urma, a spus ca vrea trei braduti. Si Puiul de brad a fost urcat intr-o masina alaturi de doi prieteni de-ai lui de la cresa. Iarasi se intrebau ce se va intampla cu ei. "Numai sa nu ne impodobeasca, sa ne taie radacinile si sa murim!", isi spunea Puiutul in gand. "Dar asta e! Batranul Brad mi-a spus ca asa sunt bucurati Puii de Om. Atunci, asa sa fie. Noi sa murim, iar ei sa se bucure!"
Aproape ca se impacase cu soarta lui, cand iarasi s-a trezit apucat de varf, apoi radacinile i-au fost puse intr-o groapa si au fost acoperite cu pamant. Puiutul fusese plantat intr-o gradina frumoasa in care mai erau si alti copaci. Ceilalti doi braduti au fost si ei plantati in aceeasi gradina, dar fiecare in alt colt al ei. In fiecare zi, Fetita venea si vorbea cu el, apoi se ducea si la ceilalti, vorbea si cu ei, ii mangaia, ii uda, le vorbea frumos. Cand a venit iarna, Fetita l-a impodobit pe Puiut cu becuri colorate si cu fasii de hartie poleita. Ce frumos era! Acum stia ca nu avea sa moara niciodata, decat de batranete.
Cat despre fratii lui de cresa, noaptea, ii ruga pe ceilalti copaci sa nu-si mai fosneasca frunzele, sa faca putina liniste, si atunci schimbau si ei cateva vorbe. Le era dor unul de altul, dar stiau ca va veni ziua cand vor fi destul de mari incat sa se poata vedea pe deasupra tuturor copacilor. Puiutul de brad era fericit. Dar viata de brad are multe surprize...
de Carmen Anghel, publicat in Jurnalul National
http://www.jurnalul.ro/stire-special/magic-povestea-bradutului-31014.html
Magic - The Story of the little fir tree
THE CHRISTMAS STORY
Fir baby now live moments of horror. There had told anyone, but felt that yesterday had seen the last sunrise of his childhood.
He apear in the world-tree in a nursery school. And realized in time, because after the wire fence surrounding that place, in which he and many other small fir rise to heaven each day more, was a forest. Many trees, lofty, seniors. They do not really talk to them. Maybe because they were of one person. Seeds grown in some man-made there. Forest was something almost fierce for little fir tree of nursery. No one strike in mind. Do not understand what is happening. For example, does not understand why little fir-tree forest trees were more crossing the elderly. Discussed this with friends, but they had no way of knowing.
Slowly and it had grown and some twigs.He wanted very much like that old tree, with fir rich, who went fence nursery near old age, to listen to him just once.
He tried many times to make thin voice heard.
"Mr. Brad, please ...", but the old do not take into account. Can no longer hear well. Was so high, that little fir-tree not did see good tip.
He thought and thought what was realized that there must be strong, so is his voice. So whenever it rains, the tree sipping chicken avidly raindrop. How he came to sunshine, stretched out the few twigs as if they wanted to swallow all the sun. One day the miracle happened.
He woke up full of confidence and just like he had dreamed that he had spoken with Mr. Fir tree. So hopefully, he gathered all the forces and did another test: "Sir Fir tree?". This time, shy voice has found its way to the ears of the old Fir tree. He grunted a little, he leaned over the top, just wondering as a young tree nursery bothers him. Little fir-tree shaking all those and wait ... "What happened to you, baby tree? Why not stay quiet over there?" "Mr. Fir tree, Mr Fir tree, thanks for talking with me, baby fir tree said, with tears in her eyes. ... Do not know why, but the Old tree stood over it with him. Told many, to be strong and advised that any would happen, not ever lose his confidence. And be brave and ever ... Whatever happens ...
Bad feelings
Now, when it met the first of bad feelings old, baby-tree are wondering if it was better not to seek to know what fate may have it, little fir tree child care. Or even like a rose tree in the middle of the forest. He and other traveling little fir tree crowded, some more than others, in the trailer of a truck. Some of them crying, scared. Others have complained that they missed the ground to help them grow and now not had been able to resist their pull. Do not know where they will be deported. No little fir-tree knew. But what the old man had told not gave any reason for silence. Tried to appease Elder tree, not to cry, telling them: "That's life tree nursery! We are born in a place and we are taken to other places to make them beautiful, to keep the shadow ..." .The little fir tree respected him, because they knew that he could talk to the Elder Tree. But some of them, even if not sob, sob strangled by emotion and fear.
Little fir-tree he had complained, but knew not how to change something. So he raised twigs around him and waited. He had a life before you know ...
Dream
He fell into a deep sleep. And the dream ...
The cause had not been pulled from nursery and all grown up there little fir trees large, beautiful, tall, like Old Man Fir tree. And besides the baby now born fir tree, but they were not, some orphans. Each had a small fir tree that had nursed great. When the sun was too scorching, it's the shadow of the branches, when the wind was too strong, lean and protect the small, even though he, the great tree, he lost one arm in May. After these accidents, a long, tree sap lose much hurt, but instead be healed and sometimes even increase other branches. In winter, the children were advised not to try to take off the top of the snow, freezing or else die. He and spring, when birds are gambol in the sunlight. Little fir-tree smile in his sleep. How beautiful it was! Or when some of them sick in May, was immediately called Mrs. Woodpecker, they clean the wounds and everything returned to normal. May be afraid sometimes, when people came to walk through the woods. It was great danger! Once free trees from the forest, escaped a narrow squeak of a great misfortune. But with all the tears have not been able to save the kids from nursery to the forest. Then the bad guys made a fire and did not back off well when they left their city. And at night because of wind, wat remain from the fire was lit and the fire took the lives of thousands of baby-tree.
The one that survived was the Old Man Fir tree today. One who has listened to little. He knew what it means to be a tree in the nursery school. Here, baby-tree like no dream no more. Began to remember the horror of the narrative of old. When he heard the story of the old fir tree, the baby fir tree cry. "After all brothers and friends died in nursery, trees from the forest I was adopted. They didn’t were mean to me. Now I was an orphan twice. And helped me to grow. It's very much since then and I enjoyed very much to see that people have made new nursery in this place. You know, no tree does not come by chance in the world. Each is good at something. "
"At what are good the little fir tree?" asked baby. Because in his mind, he thought that he will live all life in that pence. "Eheeei! On many a tree can be good!" Answered Old Fir tree.
So he found some of baby trees have the luck to stay in the forest many, many years until dying of old age or France by blizzard or killed by some lightning. Maybe they are most happy. Other fir, unfortunately, die young, so do not ever get to look over the forest, to see mountains, waters, people. Little fir tree loves people. Not all are bad! There are people coming and caregivers who say: "How much we love you, fir trees." And then, fortunately, trees rub their needles and answer to the people and say: "And we love you!". How nice it is to be loved!
Where are going the little fir tree?
With and remember these words of the old Brad, baby was happy and sad at the same time. He knew that lost a chance to live in the forest. But who knows, may get lucky. Other fir, old man continued, are taken here in nursery, and are taken to other places to do well there. Some fir tree fall in gardens and are loved and cared for, and in winter are adorned to rejoice the soul of childrens. That's good unless you live in the yard. Other fir, have increased who knows what, are simply killed! It cut over and taken root in people's houses, all to be decorated. But what a pity that adorn a tree dead! Little fir tree dries and then is thrown in the trash. These are the sad trees. "Why are cut little fir trees, Old Fir tree?" "People will make them a joy to their children, but do not know so make sad an entire forest when he kills children."
Stories of a Old Fir tree
Now baby-tree stood and thought how to tell him that his brothers, who traveled - who knows where? - With him in that truck!
Old Man Firtree had much to tell. He had lived several centuries. And every day when he woke from sleep, baby quickly raises his top and his name to Elder and something else. Some of the stories they had experienced himself, others he had heard from the old trees which were not much in their roots. Each tree has given a tribute. Some are made to make shadow all his life, other people's children to enjoy, others have to find a morning baby, are left to grow, then come and cut it by people. "That big?" "So big!"
And what happens to them? They have a different fate. Some will be put on fire, for make warm in homes, others will be ripped to pieces, will be cleaned and the bark and cut into pieces and smaller and end up being any mass or any seat. Who knows, it depends on what will people make of them! "Horrible!" answered baby.
Now, little firtree was the first trip of his life. Hopes to be the last. To be taken somewhere and decide what will be with him! Trembling from all those and quickly learn that it was his fate. What they decided?
They traveled a lot with that truck. It's night and thought little firtree have reached their destination, because, at some point, the car stopped. But it was not so. In the morning went on. Finally, after two days and nights were taken up above the hills and near a fence line up nicely. From there, a woman took with her hand and planted in a large flower pot, wooden.
After several days after planting in pots, little firtree recover, and several other of his friends have seen close- a big man with a girl by the hand. "Which do you take it?" Big Man asked. The little girl was still wandering near trees. Eventually, said she wanted three trees. And little-tree was climbed in a car with two friends from the nursery. Again wondered what will happen to them. "But do not decorate us, cutting the roots and die!" Said his baby in mind. "But this is old man Brad told me that so m the little children are enjoying. Then so be it. We die, and they enjoy!"
Almost come to terms with his fate when he woke again grabbed the top, then the roots were placed in a hole and was covered with earth. Baby had been planted in a beautiful garden where there were other trees. The other two small fir were also planted in the same garden, but each in a different corner of it. Every day, little girl came and spoke to him, then lead to others, talking with them, comfort them, wash them, they speak well. When winter came, the little girl in the baby with lights adorned with strips of colored paper and polished. How beautiful it was! Now he knew that would not die ever, than old age.
As for his brothers nursery at night it pray the other trees to not longer rub the leaves, do some quiet, and then they changed and few words. They missed each other, but knew that will come the day when they will be big enough to can see over all trees. Baby-tree was happy. But life has many surprises for the little firtree ...
write by Carmen Anghel, and published in Jurnalul National
http://www.jurnalul.ro/stire-special/magic-povestea-bradutului-31014.html
http://rucsaculcupovesti.blogspot.com/-Carmen Anghel' blog
