The Sparrow

Once upon a time, there was a sparrow. And he had a splinter in his little foot. He flew here and there, hopping from place to place, until he finally spotted an old woman. The old woman was gathering firewood for her stove—she wanted to light a fire and bake fresh bread.

"Granny, granny!" called the sparrow. "Take the splinter out of my foot, and then you can go back to your work. At least I’ll be able to peck at something in peace, or else I might starve to death."
The old woman pulled the splinter out of the sparrow’s foot and then returned to her tasks.

Meanwhile, the sparrow hopped around for a bit, then came back to the old woman and demanded his splinter back.
"I threw it into the stove fire," replied the old woman.
The sparrow insisted:
"Either give me back my splinter, or I’ll take your bread."

The old woman gave the sparrow her bread, and he flew away. He flew and flew until he met a shepherd who was having lunch with just milk and no bread.
"Shepherd, oh shepherd!" called the sparrow. "Why are you having just milk for lunch, with no bread? Here, take mine. Crumble it into your milk and eat it in good health. At least I’ll be able to peck at something in peace, or else I might starve to death."
The sparrow hopped around for a bit, then came back to the shepherd and demanded his bread back.
"I already ate it," replied the shepherd.
"Well, if that’s the case, then give me a lamb in exchange for the bread!"

The shepherd gave the sparrow a lamb, and he flew away.
He flew and flew until he came across some people preparing to celebrate a wedding. But they had no meat for their feast.
"Don’t worry," said the sparrow. "Take my lamb, slaughter it, and cook something delicious for the celebration. I’ll go peck at something, or else I might starve to death."
The sparrow hopped around for a bit, then came back and demanded his lamb back.
"But we’ve already eaten it," replied the people. "How can we give it back to you?"
"Either return my lamb," shouted the sparrow, "or I’ll take your bride!"
He snatched the bride and flew away.

He flew and flew until he saw a minstrel walking along the road—a wandering musician, beloved by the people.
"Minstrel, oh minstrel!" called the sparrow. "Take the bride for yourself, and I’ll go peck at something, or else I might starve to death."
The sparrow hopped around for a bit, then came back and demanded the bride back.
"The bride went home to her beloved," replied the minstrel.
"Either return the bride, or give me your saz," demanded the sparrow.

The minstrel gave the sparrow his saz. The sparrow slung it over his shoulder and flew away. He found a nice, comfortable spot, perched on a tree branch, took out the saz, and began to play and sing:
"Chark-chvark! Chirp-chvyrk!
I traded a splinter for bread,
And the bread I traded for a lamb.
The lamb I traded for a bride,
And the bride I traded for a saz.
Now I have a saz,
And I’m a sweet-voiced minstrel!
Chark-chvark! Chirp-chvyrk!"

↑ To the top

The Sparrow

More fairy tales