The Tale of Ivasyk

Once upon a time, there lived a husband and wife, and they had a little son named Ivasyk. As Ivasyk grew a bit older, he began to ask his father:

"Father, make me a little boat and an oar. I will catch fish and take care of you in your old age."

"You're still too young, son," replied the father.

But Ivasyk kept insisting: "Make it for me, make it for me!" So the father crafted him a little boat and an oar, and Ivasyk began to fish. He would row far, far down the river, while his mother would cook food for him, pour it into two little pots, take a clean white shirt for Ivasyk, and go to the riverbank. She would stand there and call out:

"Ivasyk, Ivasyk,
Come row, come row
To the riverbank:
I'll give you food and drink,
And let you rest well."

And when Ivasyk heard her, he would say:
"That's my mother's voice. Row, row, little boat, to the riverbank."

He would row back, have his meal, take the clean white shirt, thank his mother, give her the fish he had caught, and then return to the river.

One day, a witch spotted Ivasyk and thought to herself:
"It wouldn't be bad to taste Ivasyk's meat. I'll lure him in."

So at lunchtime, she went to the riverbank and called out:

"Ivasyk, Ivasyk,
Come row, come row
To the riverbank:
I'll give you food and drink,
And let you rest well."

Ivasyk listened and listened, then said:
"No, that's not my mother's voice. My mother's voice is soft as silk, but this one is like a wolf's. Row, row, little boat, farther away!"

The witch realized she couldn't lure him this way, so she ran to the blacksmith:
"Blacksmith, forge me a voice as soft as Ivasyk's mother's."

The blacksmith forged her a delicate voice, and she went back to the riverbank. This time, she called out in her new voice:

"Ivasyk, Ivasyk,
Come row, come row
To the riverbank:
I'll give you food and drink,
And let you rest well."

"That's my mother's voice," said Ivasyk. "Row, row, little boat, to the riverbank."

As soon as Ivasyk reached the shore, the witch grabbed him and dragged him to her hut. She brought him inside and said to her daughter:
"Here, Alyonka, is a little boy. Roast him for my lunch."

"Alright, mother," replied Alyonka. "I've already heated the oven."

"Then I'll go fetch some salt," said the witch. "By the time I return, the roast should be ready."

The witch left for the salt, and Alyonka took a shovel and said to Ivasyk:
"Sit down, boy, on the shovel."

"But I don't know how!"
"Sit down, sit down!"

Ivasyk kept pretending he didn't know how to sit, placing his hand here, his head there, but never sitting properly. Finally, he said to Alyonka:
"Show me how to sit, and I'll do it."

"Like this, see?"

Alyonka sat down on the shovel, and Ivasyk—whack!—shoved her into the oven, closed the door, and she roasted inside.

Ivasyk ran out of the hut, but then he heard the witch returning. He quickly climbed up a sycamore tree and hid in its branches.

The witch entered the hut and saw that Alyonka was gone.
"That cursed girl! I step out for a moment, and she's already run off. I'll teach her a lesson! Well, I'll eat alone then." She pulled the roast from the oven, ate her fill, went outside, lay down under the sycamore tree, and began to rock back and forth, saying:
"I'll rock and roll, having feasted on Ivasyk's meat."

But Ivasyk couldn't resist and called out from the tree:
"Rock and roll, having feasted on Alyonka's meat!"

"Ah, you little rascal! Just you wait, I'll eat you yet!"

And the witch began gnawing at the sycamore tree, her teeth clicking as she chewed. Ivasyk saw that things were bad, and then—lo and behold—a flock of geese flew by. He called out to them:

"Geese, geese, my swans!
Take me on your wings,
Carry me to my father,
Where there's food and drink,
And a good place to rest."

But they replied:
"We're in a hurry. Let the ones behind take you."

And they flew away. The witch kept gnawing, and the sycamore tree began to shake.

Then the last geese flew by, and Ivasyk called out again:

"Geese, geese, my swans!
Take me on your wings,
Carry me to my father,
Where there's food and drink,
And a good place to rest."

"Let the very last one take you!" they said and flew off.

The witch had nearly gnawed through the tree, and it was about to fall. Then a little goose flew by—one of its wings was injured, and it had fallen behind the flock. Ivasyk wept and called to it:

"Oh, little goose, my swan,
Take me on your wing,
Carry me to my father,
Where there's food and drink,
And a good place to rest."

The little goose took pity on Ivasyk:
"Alright, climb on. Maybe we'll make it somehow."

Ivasyk climbed onto the goose, and they flew away.

When the witch saw that Ivasyk had escaped, she became so enraged that she swelled up and burst.

Meanwhile, Ivasyk and the little goose flew and flew until they landed by his father's window. Ivasyk stood under the window and listened to what the old folks were saying inside. His mother was taking pies out of the oven, placing them on the windowsill, and saying:

"This one's for you, grandpa, and this one's for me."
From outside the window, Ivasyk replied:
"And none for Ivasyk!"

"Oh, old man," said the mother, "I thought I heard Ivasyk's voice!"
"Where would he be, old woman? Our Ivasyk is long gone."

The old woman wiped her tears and went back to the pies:
"This one's for you, grandpa, and this one's for me."
Again, Ivasyk called out:
"And none for Ivasyk!"

"No, old man," said the mother, "I hear him clearly. It's him!"

The old couple stepped outside and saw Ivasyk standing under the window. They greeted him, hugged him joyfully, and were overjoyed! The mother washed Ivasyk's hair, gave him a clean white shirt, fed him, and gave the little goose the best grain.

And so they lived together happily ever after. And to this day, they're still alive. And they chew their bread.

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The Tale of Ivasyk

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