Knjigice
Fairy tale · Animal stories
The Ant and the Grasshopper
Aesop's fable of the busy ant and the merry grasshopper
Also in: Mravlja in muren (Slovenian) · Mravec a svrček (Slovak)
In the middle of summer the meadow smelled of honey and sunshine. From morning till evening the ant carried grain into her storeroom under the old turf — seed by seed, each one bigger than she was. A little higher, on a green stem, sat the grasshopper with his tiny walnut-shell fiddle, playing so merrily that even the daisies sang along.
1
"Ant, oh ant!" called the grasshopper. "Why do you toil in this heat? Look how lovely it is! Come and dance with me!" The ant set down her seed and wiped her brow. "I'd love to, grasshopper. But summer does not last forever. When winter comes, whoever has stored nothing goes hungry." The grasshopper only laughed and struck up a new tune.
2
Slowly the summer ripened. The ant found a full ear of wheat by the path and dragged it home piece by piece; her corridors smelled of grain. The grasshopper held a concert for the whole meadow: ladybirds danced and bumblebees hummed the bass. "Who would think of winter," he sang, "when the world is so green and full of songs!"
3
Then came late summer. The grasses turned gold and seeds all but fell into your hands. The ant went back and forth across the meadow, back and forth — a hundred trips a day. "This seed too. And this one." In the evenings the grasshopper played more softly than usual. The air grew cool, and the first mist settled over the meadow.
4
Then the rain began. It drummed on the leaves for three days and three nights. The grasshopper huddled under a big brown leaf, careful to keep his fiddle dry. The ant peeped out one last time, shut her little round door and lit the fire in her warm kitchen. The meadow fell silent. Only the wind still sang — and its song was cold.
5
One morning the meadow was silver. Frost had whitened the stems, and the last seeds had frozen in the hard ground. The grasshopper searched up and down but could not find a single grain. His tummy rumbled, his legs were freezing, and the fiddle under his arm was silent. For the first time in his life he did not feel like singing.
6
Then the snow came down. The grasshopper trudged through the white silence, starving and chilled to the last little leg. All at once, under the old turf, he spotted a tiny round door, and from beneath it came the smell of bread and a warm glow. "The ant's house!" he sighed. He gathered his last strength and knocked: tap, tap.
7
The door opened, and there stood the ant. "Grasshopper! You're frozen through!" — "Ant," he said quietly, "all summer long I played, and I stored nothing. I'm hungry and cold." The ant took him by the leg and pulled him inside. "Come to the stove. There is grain enough for two — and you shall play for me, so the winter feels shorter."
8
And so it was. Outside the winter winds blew, but the warm little room under the turf smelled of porridge and honey. The ant counted her stores, and the grasshopper played — of summer, of sunshine, of daisies. Sometimes the ant put down her work and they danced among the sacks of grain. No winter had ever passed so quickly and so merrily.
9
When summer returned, the meadow was green and full of seeds again. Now two walked across it: the ant with her seed and the grasshopper with his. "Who would have thought," he laughed, "that carrying can be a song!" In the evenings they sat by the little door: the ant listened, the grasshopper played — and the whole meadow with them.
10The End
