Once there was an old Christmas-song who dragged himself along the way. It drizzled and he was frozen. A yellow tit sat with puffy feathers on a birch twig. - Who are you struggling along? it asked.- I am the old Christmas song, said the wanderer. Everyone has forgotten me. Sing me, little tit!
-Me?? I am hoarse and Christmas songs I do not care about. It is spring ditties I like. And the tit flew his way.
The old Christmas song struggled tiredly on. Then he met a rich businessman.- I'm an Old Christmas song. You could knew me well when you were little. Sing Me!-Although I have been able to sing you at the time, I do not anymore. The sound of cash registers is the most beautiful song I know. Go your way, I do not have time to talk, I have to think about Christmas sales!And the wealthy businessman went his way.
The Song continued further. The wind blew cold through the thin clothes. When he met a busy wife.-What kind of a drag are you? said the lady, she could not stand that not everyone was busy.-I am an Old Christmas song. Your mother used to sing me, do you remember me? Sing Me!- As if I have time to sing Christmas songs now, just before Christmas. I must clean the house and cure the ham, cook the turkey and bake Christmas cookies and iron Christmas tablecloths and rolling and polishing and scrubbing and dusting, and .......More did not the old Christmas song hear, for the busy lady was already far behind him as he ran away.
The rain kept up, it froze stiff on the ground and the cold began to bite, but still the old Christmas song walked around seeking someone who would sing it. Then met a famous poet. The old Christmas song was happy.
- I am an Old Christmas song, said to the poet. - You remember me for sure. Will you sing with me? The poet stopped. - So, an Old Christmas song? But my how you look. You're full of rhymes! And with no rhythm. As if I would sing something like that! I am a famous poet, very modern. What I sing is more like: -In solitude. despite the fact that I do not know if you are a green-yellow frost, big, bigger biggest ......The famous poet's voice disappeared in the distance, for the old Christmas song ran away as fast as it could.
Tiredly he sat down on the stairs of a tiny cottage by the forest at the edge of town. - I'm going to die. No one remembers me or want to sing me, he thought sadly. Then came an old woman on the trail. She held the hand of a small child.
-Look, Grandma, there is someone on our stairs, said the child. Grandmother saw with the old, worn eyes, and although she was nearly blind, she knew the old Christmas song again.- It's the old Christmas song, she cried. - It was my grandmother who taught me, and she had learned it from her grandmother, that's how old it is!Sing-me, bade the song low. It couldn't do any more.- But come in, come in, said his wife, And the song went into the poor but warm living room.
And the wife began to sing with the weak and cracked voice, and the bright child's voice fell in too. And the old Christmas song was no longer a gray and tattered wretch, but clear and brilliant with a gown that shone in the glory of the stars and lights.
And it was like the roof lifted up on the little house, and the song spread beyond the notes and hurried out of the dark and dreary world. And everyone who heard it, forgot the bustle and cares and began to sing along. Their childhoods old Christmas song. Oh, THOU HOLY, O THOU Blessed .....
This story is written by Marjatta cure Niemi. The translation to Norwegian is done by Jo Tenfjord and the story was originally published in the book Christmas in our house in the 1980's. Translated into English by myself....
Tiredly he sat down on the stairs of a tiny cottage by the forest at the edge of town. - I'm going to die. No one remembers me or want to sing me, he thought sadly. Then came an old woman on the trail. She held the hand of a small child.
-Look, Grandma, there is someone on our stairs, said the child. Grandmother saw with the old, worn eyes, and although she was nearly blind, she knew the old Christmas song again.- It's the old Christmas song, she cried. - It was my grandmother who taught me, and she had learned it from her grandmother, that's how old it is!Sing-me, bade the song low. It couldn't do any more.- But come in, come in, said his wife, And the song went into the poor but warm living room.
And the wife began to sing with the weak and cracked voice, and the bright child's voice fell in too. And the old Christmas song was no longer a gray and tattered wretch, but clear and brilliant with a gown that shone in the glory of the stars and lights.
And it was like the roof lifted up on the little house, and the song spread beyond the notes and hurried out of the dark and dreary world. And everyone who heard it, forgot the bustle and cares and began to sing along. Their childhoods old Christmas song. Oh, THOU HOLY, O THOU Blessed .....
This story is written by Marjatta cure Niemi. The translation to Norwegian is done by Jo Tenfjord and the story was originally published in the book Christmas in our house in the 1980's. Translated into English by myself....
