The Most Beautiful Song in the World, by Max Bolliger (A story for Michaelmas, shared by Suvi-Maaria Lehtonen)
(Original. Die Schönste Lied written by Max Bolliger, translated by Suvi-Maaria Lehtonen from a Finnish version Maailman kaunein laulu)
Once upon a time there was a king. The king had a dream.
He saw a tree, and there was a bird in the tree that sang a song.
In the morning, the king called the bird-catcher to him. He said to him:
"I had a dream. And in a dream I saw a tree, and there was a bird on the tree singing a song. Go and catch the bird for me!"
"Yes, Mr. King," said the bird-catcher, "what kind of bird was it?"
But the king did not know that. "Go and find it!" he commanded. "I will give you seven days."
The bird-catcher was frightened, for he was afraid of the king's wrath.
He took his flute and net and went into the garden. He hid behind a wall and played like a blackbird sings. And when the blackbird came out of his nest, he caught it in his net, shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird"
On the second day, the bird-catcher took his net and went to the meadow. He hid behind a bush and played as a lark sings. And when the lark came out of its nest, he caught it in his net, and shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the third day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the riverbank. He hid behind a rock and played as an oriole sings. And when the oriole came out of his nest, he caught it in a cage and brought the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the fourth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went into the forest. He hid behind a tree and played as a robin sings. And when the redwing came out of its nest, he caught it in his net, locked it in a cage, and brought it to the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the fifth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the edge of the forest. He hid behind a bush and played as a wren sings. And when the wren came out of his nest, he caught it in his net, and shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the sixth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the park. He hid behind a well and played as a nightingale sings. And when the nightingale came out of his nest, he caught it in a net, shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
But on the seventh day, the bird-catcher didn't know any more new birdsongs. He walked in front of the castle and hid nowhere anymore. He took his flute and played his very own song. "I will play for the last time," he thought, "for the king will put me in prison and take away my flute." And he played more beautifully than ever before.
The king, who was at breakfast, put down his fork and knife. "That's the song," he shouted. "That's the song I heard in my dream." He immediately called the bird-catcher to him.
"Where is the bird?" he asked.
"It wasn't a bird," said the bird-catcher, "it's my own song."
"Your own song?" asked the king, astonished. He wanted to hear it one more time. And jubilantly, he threw a party. But after the feast, he let all the birds and of course the bird catcher back into freedom.
(Original. Die Schönste Lied written by Max Bolliger, translated by Suvi-Maaria Lehtonen from a Finnish version Maailman kaunein laulu)
Once upon a time there was a king. The king had a dream.
He saw a tree, and there was a bird in the tree that sang a song.
In the morning, the king called the bird-catcher to him. He said to him:
"I had a dream. And in a dream I saw a tree, and there was a bird on the tree singing a song. Go and catch the bird for me!"
"Yes, Mr. King," said the bird-catcher, "what kind of bird was it?"
But the king did not know that. "Go and find it!" he commanded. "I will give you seven days."
The bird-catcher was frightened, for he was afraid of the king's wrath.
He took his flute and net and went into the garden. He hid behind a wall and played like a blackbird sings. And when the blackbird came out of his nest, he caught it in his net, shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird"
On the second day, the bird-catcher took his net and went to the meadow. He hid behind a bush and played as a lark sings. And when the lark came out of its nest, he caught it in his net, and shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the third day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the riverbank. He hid behind a rock and played as an oriole sings. And when the oriole came out of his nest, he caught it in a cage and brought the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the fourth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went into the forest. He hid behind a tree and played as a robin sings. And when the redwing came out of its nest, he caught it in his net, locked it in a cage, and brought it to the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the fifth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the edge of the forest. He hid behind a bush and played as a wren sings. And when the wren came out of his nest, he caught it in his net, and shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king. "No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
On the sixth day, the bird-catcher took his flute and net and went to the park. He hid behind a well and played as a nightingale sings. And when the nightingale came out of his nest, he caught it in a net, shut it up in a cage, and brought it to the king.
"No," said the king, "it was not this bird."
But on the seventh day, the bird-catcher didn't know any more new birdsongs. He walked in front of the castle and hid nowhere anymore. He took his flute and played his very own song. "I will play for the last time," he thought, "for the king will put me in prison and take away my flute." And he played more beautifully than ever before.
The king, who was at breakfast, put down his fork and knife. "That's the song," he shouted. "That's the song I heard in my dream." He immediately called the bird-catcher to him.
"Where is the bird?" he asked.
"It wasn't a bird," said the bird-catcher, "it's my own song."
"Your own song?" asked the king, astonished. He wanted to hear it one more time. And jubilantly, he threw a party. But after the feast, he let all the birds and of course the bird catcher back into freedom.
