Little Songs

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Little Songs

He was quite a rake in appearance⁠—he loafed about in the streets and in the roads, sat for hours in the taverns and looked on at the jolly wenches; nothing was sacred to him, and because of that he received very little respect.

Only sometimes he walked out to the crossroads, and began to sing; he knew such words that everything answered him at that moment⁠—the birds in the woods, and the wind in the fields, and the waves in the sea.

The little dog, Sillybark, said:

“It’s bad, bad! It’s all nonsense.”

And the cunning fox said:

“Bad, bad! He sings only earthly songs, he has forgotten God.”

What did it matter? Everything living answered him: the birds of the woods, the waves of the sea, and the roving winds.