Is not present in the life house if the children's sincere laughter if sonorous voices of kids are not audible in it does not sound in it. Is not present in the happiness house if children are not glad to this house. And consequently section with the national fairy tales learning our children to good and justice, simply vital. Well and as our house Tatar, fairy tales collected in it too will be Tatar.
Kids, what a fun it is, this winter's night!
It's warm; the oven fire's burning bright.
You're sitting tightly, not afraid of cold;
You're joyful — not a worry in the world.
And none of you no anguish ever knew,
You're sitting pretty, nothing troubles you,
Immersed into your mother's fairy tales,
You do not feel the night, nor winter gales.
Let strong winds gust beyond, and let it snow,
Let the roof thatch fly forth with every blow;
No bird will venture out, afraid of frost,
But you are warm and fine — no worries lost.
But may at times it cross your tender mind,
Not all enjoy happiness of this kind.
There are some orphan children in the world,
No land they have, no parents, no abode.
In winter nights, no hope they can hold;
Their cheeks and noses freeze of bitter cold.
They will be lucky not to ice to death,
For some indeed meet their end like that.
And if you ever see such poor kids,
With eyes in tears, sad, in many needs,
My children! Offer them your love and warmth,
And comfort them with kind and tender words!
A fair warm day and, by the window glass,
A small Boy's reading for tomorrow's class.
And through the window glass there calls the Sun;
«Come out, my Boy! Stop reading! Have some fun!»
The Nightingale sings from the nearby tree:
«Come on, my Boy, come out, have fun with me!»
The Apple-tree, that in the garden stands,
Says: «Boy, have fun, you'll later make amends!»
«No», says the Boy, «I'11 catch up with the fun,
I'll never play until my work is done».
The Apple-Tree insists: «You've had your way,
Don't toil inside — it's such a pleasant day!»
«Just wait for me, be patient, Tree and Sun;
No fun in playing games, when work's undone».
And when the child was through with all his work,
He left his books, went out for a walk:
«Hey! — said the Boy — who called for me today?
Through with my studies, I am free to play!»
The Sun then granted him his brightest smile;
The Apple-Tree gave him her nicest apple!
The Nightingale then sang his fairest song to him;
The trees bowed their heads in front of him.