The Rooster Painted on a Scroll
This happened a long, long time ago. In a village, there lived an elder. He loved to buy all sorts of curious and exotic trinkets. He owned vessels of unseen beauty, plates that shimmered with silver, and as for paintings and scrolls—they were countless. In short, he was a wealthy man.One day, a foreign merchant arrived in the village. He had come from far away, bringing with him an abundance of goods. The wealthy elder invited him over. They sat and chatted.
"I've heard," said the merchant, "that you are very rich and that you possess many wonders."
"Oh, nonsense!" the elder waved his hand dismissively. "What wonders? You, no doubt, have traveled the world and seen so much that nothing could surprise you."
"That's true," agreed the merchant. "There are many unseen things in the world. But take this, for example." He pulled out a small box and handed it to the elder. The elder opened it and saw a fishing hook inside.
"What is this?" he asked, surprised.
"This is no ordinary hook," explained the merchant. "It is the very same hook that the gods once held—it can help one descend into the underwater kingdom."
"Now that's a wonder!" exclaimed the elder. "The very same hook?"
"Do you have anything unusual yourself?" asked the merchant.
"I do," nodded the elder. "I bought a remarkable scroll. It has a rooster painted on it. When you look at it, it’s as if it were alive! But the real marvel is that every morning, at dawn, the rooster crows!"
"That can't be!" the merchant didn’t believe him. "Since when do painted roosters crow?"
"Stranger things have happened in this world!" laughed the elder.
"Well, I never," the merchant continued to marvel. "I’ve lived a long time, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. I don’t believe it. Let’s make a bet. If your rooster really crows at dawn, I’ll give you all my goods. But if it doesn’t, you’ll give me as much of your wealth as my horses can carry."
"Why bet?" the elder didn’t understand. "You’ll lose anyway—the rooster crows every morning."
"I don’t believe it!" the merchant insisted. "Let’s bet!"
"Alright," agreed the elder, "let’s do it."
Dawn wasn’t far off. As soon as the first light appeared, the rooster on the scroll lifted its head and crowed: "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
What strange things happen in this world!
"It’s crowing! It’s crowing!" exclaimed the merchant. "What a marvel!"
He gave all his goods to the elder and set off for home that very day. When he returned, he told everyone in his land about the rooster on the scroll.
"What a fool you are!" they laughed at him. "You gave away all your goods for a single 'cock-a-doodle-doo'!" "That’s true," thought the merchant, "it’s not fair."
The merchant began to regret giving away his goods and desperately wanted to get them back.
"The rooster is indeed a wondrous treasure," he thought, "but goods are better—you can get a lot of money for them."
He prepared for the journey and returned to the village where the elder lived. The elder was delighted to see him:
"Come in," he invited, "I’m very glad to see you."
"I liked your rooster," said the merchant. "I told everyone in my land about it. But people don’t believe me! 'Such things don’t happen!' they say."
"How can they not happen?" the elder was surprised. "You saw my rooster with your own eyes and heard it crow!"
"That’s just it," the merchant shook his head. "You see, doubt has crept into my mind: I thought I heard your rooster, but maybe I didn’t. I don’t know—maybe its crowing was a dream…"
"A dream?" the elder didn’t understand. "We heard the rooster together."
"I don’t know… I don’t know…" the merchant hesitated and then proposed: "Let’s listen to it again at dawn. But we’ll have to bet again. If the rooster crows, you’ll keep my goods. If it doesn’t, I’ll take them back. Deal?"
"This is all very strange," the elder shrugged. "But you’re my guest, so let it be as you wish. I agree!"
He went to bed and fell into a deep sleep. But the merchant didn’t sleep—he had a wicked plan. He got up quietly, approached the scroll, stood there for a while, and then pulled something out from under his coat and touched the rooster.
Soon, dawn broke. The village roosters began to crow, one after another. But the rooster on the elder’s scroll remained silent.
The elder approached the scroll, unable to understand why his rooster wasn’t crowing.
"What’s happened? What’s gone wrong?"
"I thought as much," yawned the merchant. "It must have been a dream that your rooster crowed. People were right: a painted rooster can’t crow at the top of its lungs."
"How can it not?" the elder cried. "For so many days, it delighted me with its crowing."
"If the rooster didn’t crow this morning, you’ve lost the bet," said the merchant. "Give me back my goods."
The elder said nothing. The merchant loaded his sacks onto his horses and set off. But the elder was beside himself: "Has my rooster fallen ill?" he wondered. He approached the scroll and looked closely—there, stuck in the rooster’s throat, was the very same hook the merchant had shown him! "This is what greed leads to!" the elder fumed. "For the sake of his sacks, he didn’t spare my wondrous rooster." He removed the hook and tried to heal the rooster. But its voice never returned. No one ever heard the painted rooster crow again.
Meanwhile, the merchant rode home, pleased with himself. "That’s what you get," he thought, "let no one else have such a rooster!" He rode and rode, but he didn’t notice when his horse stumbled. The merchant’s sacks fell into a puddle, and he fell with them. There he sat, stuck in the mud.
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