Сказка про Колобка

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The Bun

Великолепный перевод русской народной сказки. Вам он понравится без сомнения. Я взяла его из детской книжки, которая чудесным образом попала мне в руки в 2000 году, «Теремок» под редакцией Н.Ц. Степанян, корректор Н.Д. Бучарова. Моя первая дочь Катя в 2 года знала эту сказку наизусть и с большим удовольствием пела песенку колобка.

There once lived an old man and an old woman. One day the old man said to his wife: «Come on, old woman, sweep out the corn bin, scrub out the flour tin, there may just be enough flour left for a bun.»

The old woman took a feather brush, swept out the bin, scrubbed out the tin and scraped together about two handfuls of flour. She added some sour cream to it, kneaded the dough, shaped a round bun and put it into the stove to bake. When it was baked crisp and brown, the old woman put it on the window sill to cool.

The bun sat there quietly for a while, then it rolled off the window sill to the bench, from the bench to the floor, across the floor to the door, it hopped over the threshold onto the enteranceway, rolled across the enteranceway to the porch, hopped down the steps into the yard, rolled across the yard to the gate and then out of the gate and down the road.

On and on it rolled and then it met a hare. «Hey, Bun!» said the hare, «You look nice and crisp. I think I shall eat you.» «Don’t eat me, Hare. Better listen to my song.
I am a nice crisp bun,
I was swept in the bin,
I was scrubbed in the tin,
I was kneaded with cream,
I was baked on the grill,
I was cooled on the sill.
From Grandpa I did run,
From Grandma I did run,
And you, Hare, will never eat the bun!»
And off it rolled before the hare could blink an eye.

The bun rolled on and on and then it met a wolf. «Hey, Bun!» said the wolf, «You look nice and crisp. I think I shall eat you.» «Don’t eat me, Wolf. Better listen to my song.
I am a nice crisp bun,
I was swept in the bin,
I was scrubbed in the tin,
I was kneaded with cream,
I was baked on the grill,
I was cooled on the sill.
From Grandpa I did run,
From Grandma I did run,
From the Hare I did run,
And you, Wolf, will never eat the bun!»
And off it rolled before the wolf could blink an eye.

The bun rolled on and on and then it met a bear. «Hey, Bun!» said the bear, «You look nice and crisp. I think I shall eat you.» «Not for you to eat me, Bandy Legs.
I am a nice crisp bun,
I was swept in the bin,
I was scrubbed in the tin,
I was kneaded with cream,
I was baked on the grill,
I was cooled on the sill.
From Grandpa I did run,
From Grandma I did run,
From the Hare I did run,
From the Wolf I did run,
And you, Bear, will never eat the bun!»
And off it rolled before the bear could blink an eye.

The bun rolled on and on and then it met a fox. «Hey, Bun!» said the fox, «Where are you off to?» «I am rolling along the road, Fox. «Why don’t you sing me your song?» So the bun sang:
«I am a nice crisp bun,
I was swept in the bin,
I was scrubbed in the tin,
I was kneaded with cream,
I was baked on the grill,
I was cooled on the sill.
From Grandpa I did run,
From Grandma I did run,
From the Hare I did run,
From the Wolf I did run,
From the Bear I did run,
Nor will you, Fox, ever catch the bun!»
«What a nice song,» said the fox. «It’s a pity I do not hear so well. Come, bun, perch on the tip of my nose and sing the song again, only louder.» So the bun hopped on the tip of the foxes nose and sang the song again, much louder.

And the fox said: «That’s better but I’d love to hear it once again. Come, Bun, perch on the tip of my tongue and sing it one last time.» The bun hopped on the tip of the foxes tongue and the fox shaped his jaws and gobbled it up.

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