   Lyubov Talimonova
   The Lullaby Tales
   Translated from the Russian original by David Parfitt

© L. Talimonova, text, illustrations, design

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Uncle Moon

   Night came and threw her shawl across the sky, and so the world became dark. The stars came out of their little houses and settled across the whole sky. Some stars gathered themselves into constellations while others scattered like diamonds across the Night’s shawl. Big stars and little stars played in the sky, drank tea together and chatted.
   And then Uncle Moon rose from behind the mountains and began to make his rounds, making sure that everything was peaceful and quiet in the heavenly kingdom. As Uncle Moon walked, leaning on his staff, the little bells on it rang out: ding-ding, ding-ding. After the Moon had finished his walk he became very tired, so he climbed into the middle of the sky and sat down to rest. Laying his staff down beside him, he twirled his moustache, gazed round at the world and began to sing a song to himself.
   The big stars and the little stars stretched themselves towards Uncle Moon, gathered around him in the middle of the sky and began to sing happy songs. And so the bright stars sang with the Moon till morning when Dawn came. And then Dawn cast the Night’s shawl down onto the Earth and began to shine across the whole sky.

The Beautiful Valley

   Once upon a time there was a Beautiful Valley. She was surrounded by mountains on all sides. If the biting cold Wind blew from the north then the mountains protected the Valley from his cold touch. If the hot dusty Wind rose up in the east, the forests that grew on the mountainsides cooled the East Wind down and brought him to rest on the warm slopes. The stubborn West Wind tried again and again to break through to the Valley, but each time the powerful mountains with their solid, immovable peaks stood in his path. And as the West Wind battled with the mountains he lost his strength and poured rain over the rocky cliffs and ravines.
   But there was also another wind – neither hot nor cold, neither strong nor stubborn, but warm, fresh and pleasant. This was the South Wind that came in Spring. He never quarrelled with the mountains, and when he wanted to see the Beautiful Valley he simply blew in, knocked on the gates and the mountains opened up and made way for him. The South Wind courteously nodded his head towards the old mountains and rushed between them to meet the Beautiful Valley. Then he sat down right at her feet, took out a little flute from his pocket and began to play wonderful sweet melodies that he had picked up from all over the world.
   The whole Valley simply blossomed at the sound of such beautiful music. Her eyes became even brighter, a rosy flush spread across her cheeks, and the rivers formed by the plaits of her hair flowed even faster. When the melodies stopped, the mountains picked up the echo of the music and held it in the air so that the music rang out even longer in the sky.
   Then the South Wind rose up, took off his little hat and with a bow he invited the Beautiful Valley to dance. The Beautiful Valley never refused him a dance because she loved the kind, gentle Wind. While the Valley and the Wind danced, everything around became happy along with them and the flowers and trees burst into blossom.
   When evening came the South Wind said goodbye to the Valley. He took off his little hat and bowed once more, and the Beautiful Valley lowered her eyes, blushed in the rays of the setting sun, and with a sigh waved her handkerchief after the departing Wind. The kind old mountains also sighed softly and whispered to one another: “So when will the wedding be?”

The Mist

   Night left the Earth and went to wake the Morning. The fresh, bright Morning stirred and smiled at the Sun, and then he took a basket of little dew-drops and went to wake the New Day and everything else in the world.
   And at the bottom of a deep valley the Mist slept, rolled up tight into a ball above a marsh. When Morning passed by he lit up the edges of the valley. The Mist opened his eyes and sighed, before falling sound asleep again.
   And when the New Day came into the world, he peeped with his sunny eye into the very bottom of the valley where the Mist was sleeping. The Mist opened his eyes again, sat up with a yawn and stretched, before spreading himself out across the whole valley.

The Day

   The Sun rose and began to play a cheerful Melody on his rays of sunlight, plucking them like strings. The Melody echoed between the Earth and the heavens, then flew across the meadows, forests and fields. Eventually she reached the Clear Day, who was sleeping in a warm little valley, and gently tugged at his moustache. The Day woke up and the first thing he did was to smile at the whole world. Then he sat down, rubbed his eyes and saw the Melody, who had become entangled in a nearby bush. The Clear Day carefully disentangled the twigs and leaves from the Melody’s clothes, sat her on his shoulder and rose up above the Earth to his full height. The Day sighed deeply and slowly stretched his arms, as if embracing the whole world. This made everything around him happy and it all began to shine: the sky brightened, the dew-drops on the grass glittered and the gently flowing river sparkled.
   Before the Sun set off on his daily journey across the Earth, he gave the Clear Day his harp. As the Melody whispered notes and music into his ear, the Day plucked the strings. Everything around them came to life and began to be heard: the grass rustled, the forests stirred, the streams gurgled, the birds sang, the bees buzzed and the air was filled with the sweet smell of a summer’s day.
   By this time the Sun had reached the highest point in the sky and from there he waved his hand at the Day. The Clear Day placed the harp on the ground, sat the Melody behind it and danced in a circle ever faster and faster! The grass, trees and streams stood still, the birds and bees fell silent, the wind died down and even the clouds moved towards the horizon to watch the Day dance. Everything grew quiet and still, and only the sounds of hot Day’s dance could be heard.
   When the Clear Day finished the fast dance he was very tired and sat down in the shadow of an old oak to catch his breath. The Melody had also become tired of playing the harp and so she sat down nearby and sighed.
   It was cool and pleasant in the shade, and the gentle rustling of the oak’s green leaves made them feel sleepy. The Melody soon dozed off without realising it, and the Day’s eyes also began to close of their own accord. And then suddenly a lark with a clear, ringing voice flitted out from the grass straight up into the sky and began to sing a song. The Clear Day woke with a start and thought: “Why am I dozing in the middle of such a beautiful day? That’s not right!” He woke up the Melody, sat her on his shoulder once more, took the Sun’s harp and set off after the Sun to watch him light up the world.
   The kind Day followed the Sun to make sure there was enough warmth and happiness for everyone in the world. If the Day saw a bird that looked sad, he took it in his hands and sang or whistled a cheerful song for it. If some flowers were drooping, he bent down and carefully lifted their heads to the sky and the warm Sun. If the weeping willows were still weeping with morning dew, the Day wiped and dried their tears. When angry storm clouds drifted across the sky, the Clear Day led them in a dance so that they turned into happy white clouds and sailed on their way.
   And so the Day crossed the Earth – dancing, playing, singing songs, making others happy and comforting them. But all of a sudden he stopped with surprise, as there in front of him was the little valley where he had spent the previous night. The kind Day placed the harp on a passing cloud, sat the sleeping Melody on another cloud, and sent them both home to meet the Sun. The Day gently sighed, lay down on the grass in the warm valley and fell sound asleep.

The Shadow

   The Sun rose and lit up the whole world with his rays. Everything on Earth was tinted with his bright colours: things that were dark and black at night became yellow, green, blue, red, white and brown. Everything in the world began to shine and grow warm, even the bleak and barren mountains.
   On a small hill there lived a stone. The stone was neither large nor small, but could be seen on the side of the hill. At night the stone was grey and by day it was dark brown.
   Near this stone lived a Shadow. She was a very ordinary Shadow – grey during the day and totally invisible at night. And like every Shadow she was terribly shy: as soon as a cloud appeared in the sky that was slightly bigger than usual the Shadow froze with fear. She was very unhappy with being like this, and especially with her greyness. “The Sun makes everything bright, beautiful and happy. White clouds float across the blue sky while birds sing in the trees. The lake is also blue and golden fish play in it. Even on the brown stones there are lizards sitting and resting. It is only me that misses out on the Sun’s rays. When the Sun lights up the whole world I still remain grey and drab. The brighter the Sun the darker I become. So what use am I to anyone?” thought the unhappy Shadow.
   And meanwhile the cheery Sun was directly overhead. The Shadow looked glumly at the Sun, grew even darker, and with a sigh took refuge under the stone. And there she sat for several hours in boredom. When the tired Sun finally began to dip towards the Earth, the Shadow peeped out from under her stone and began to gaze sadly at the world around her.
   Then from somewhere a delicate little butterfly appeared. The wind had carried her from far away and so she had decided to settle down somewhere and rest. The butterfly landed on the stone and said unhappily: “Oh, how hot it is! It has scorched my little feet!” The butterfly flapped her multicoloured wings and settled lower down in the shade. Straightening her wings, she settled more comfortably and said: “Ah, how nice to rest in the cool shade after a long hot day!” At first the Shadow froze with amazement, but then she clasped her hands in delight and proudly stretched right out across the side of the hill.

Marina

   Once upon a time there lived a storm cloud, Marina, and her husband, Hurricane. They lived above the sea in a stone house with a stone wall around it. The house was neither big nor small, but it was warm and cosy with a large brightly-coloured stove inside. Marina cooked porridge and stew on the stove for her husband and the many relatives and friends who liked to visit them.
   Marina and Hurricane also had a large farm with cows, horses, sheep and chickens – a whole herd of animals in the sky. Around the house there were fruit trees, a vegetable garden and a nice green lawn.
   Beyond the stone wall were meadows, fields and endless pastures. Each morning, Hurricane drove his herd of animals out onto these pastures. The cows grazed slowly but surely and sailed across the sky as dark heavy storm clouds; the sheep spread out across the fields as white fluffy clouds; and the horses ran through the meadows and their hooves left little cloud trails in the sky.
   One day, when summer was over and autumn had arrived, Marina took a small basket and headed into the vegetable garden to gather some peas. When the basket was full she set off back to the house, but on the way she noticed that her young grandson Breeze, who was staying with Marina and the Hurricane, had forgotten to close the gate. Because of this all the chickens had escaped from the yard. Marina gasped and dropped the basket on the ground. The peas scattered all across the garden in the sky and then fell to the Earth as hailstones. Marina put her hands on her head, looked at the fallen peas, and then picked up the empty basket to gather the escaped chickens. She ran out of the gate and saw that the chickens had scattered across a cornfield and were pecking at the fallen grain. Marina soon realised that she could not manage on her own, so she went to call her husband for help.
   Meanwhile, Hurricane was working in his forge, making new horseshoes for his horses. The fire in the forge lit up the whole horizon with a red glow. When he heard his wife calling him, Hurricane stopped work and went to help her round up the chickens. As they chased the chickens around the field the whole sky became covered with storm clouds. When all the chickens had finally been gathered up into the basket, Marina carried them back into the yard. Hurricane was about to follow her when he suddenly noticed that the grass in the garden was long and needed cutting. He stopped and said: “My dear wife, it’s no good, I’ll have to cut the grass!” And so he went straight to the forge, found his best scythe and began to cut the grass in the yard. The scythe moved back and forth in Hurricane’s skilful hands, and with each stroke a bolt of lightning flew through the air from the sky down to the Earth. When the grass was all cut, Hurricane was pleased with his work and invited Marina to come and inspect it. She was also very pleased with it. And then the tired Hurricane took the scythe back to the forge and headed into the garden to rest. He sat under a cherry-tree and watched as Marina brought some tea and scones with cherry and apple jam, and Breeze went to fetch a tablecloth from the house.
   Marina and Breeze spread out the tablecloth on the grass and arranged the little cups and saucers, and then they all sat and drank tea and ate scones and jam. And there they sat all evening until night fell and it grew dark.

The Rainbow Girl

   In the summer, the storm cloud Marina and her husband Hurricane were very busy looking after their farm in the sky, and so they completely forgot about the Earth.
   One morning Marina looked down from the window of her house in the sky and saw that the Earth had dried up. She let out a little cry, clasped her hands and ran to look for the Rain.
   But the Rain was sleeping high up on a mountain and was having some very happy dreams. Marina finally managed to wake him up, handed him a watering-can full of water and asked him to go and water all the trees and flowers. The sleepy Rain took the watering-can and set off. Along the way he spilt some water and several drops fell onto the sunny little meadow where the Rainbow Girl lived. When she saw the first few drops, the Rainbow ran out of her little house beneath a tree and was happy that her brother, the Rain, was watering her favourite flowers at last. But then she noticed that the Rain had moved on and was watering a nearby forest and lake instead. The Rainbow ran after the sleepy Rain and caught up with him near the river. “Oh dear brother”, she called, “you have watered the forest and the lake, and now you are going to water the river, but you have forgotten to water my dry meadow and my unhappy flowers!” When he heard this the Rain woke up completely and said: “My dear sister Rainbow, I’m so sorry! I was half asleep and must have forgotten them. If you give me your hand and help me to cross the river so that I do not spill any more water, then I will return to your meadow”. And so the Rainbow helped her brother to cross the river and back they went to water the withered flowers.
   The Rain ran here and there with the watering-can and poured the water over every dry flower and blade of grass in the meadow. After this he was very tired so he lay down to rest on the grass. The Sun came out and began to shine, the watered flowers gave out a beautiful sweet fragrance and the damp grass smelled lovely and fresh. The Rain soon dozed off and the Rainbow quietly lay down next to him and fell asleep too.

The Lazy Shore

   Once upon a time, on the warm sand in the shade of some green weeping willows, there lived a Lazy Shore. He never went anywhere and he only saw his nearest neighbours, the willows, the reeds and the lake.
   The weeping willows would talk amongst themselves all the time: “Look at the sky today! And those clouds sailing across the sky! Oh! And how beautifully they are reflected in the lake! And what a lovely colour the lake is today! Oh!”
   The reeds heard what the willows were whispering about, shook their heads and said: “Naughty willows!”
   But the Shore just sat quietly on the golden sand, looked at the lake, watched the clouds speed across the sky, listened to what the weeping willows and the reeds were saying and stayed silent. Even when he wanted to say something to his neighbours, he would started to speak a word or two, but by the third word he was already yawning and starting to doze off. The willows, the reeds and the lake had grown used to such conversations; they were not at all angry with the Lazy Shore and had learned to understand him from just a few words.
   In the mornings the Lazy Shore usually slept late, wrapped up in a warm quilt. Once the Sun was high in the sky and had warmed the Earth, the Shore got up, washed, combed his hair and made his bed.
   When midday came, the Shore would sit down on the warm sand, take out a dog-eared book from under his bed and read a few stories. When he grew tired of reading the stories, the Shore would start to study everything around him very closely: the green willows, the reeds, the lake, the sky and the distant mountains. When this also became boring, he would catch flies and then release them again or count water-boatmen on the lake. And when he was tired of everything, the Shore would lie down on the sand and doze off.
   When the children of the lake, the little Waves, came out to play, their favourite game was to run up to the sleeping Shore and try to splash him. The Waves really enjoyed this game and the Shore didn’t mind it at all. In fact he didn’t even stir, just smiled and said: “What naughty children!”
   And so the day passed. Evening came and the Sun disappeared behind the horizon. The Shore would sit at the edge of the water and watch the reddish-pink sunset. He would say to his neighbours: “Look how beautiful it is!” and the willows and the reeds would answer: “Oh yes, just beautiful!”
   And when the Sun had set fully and Night had come, the Lazy Shore climbed once more under his warm quilt and fell peacefully asleep. The Shore slept deeply and dreamed of the beauty of the Night and the endless sky full of stars burning brightly.

The Evening

   The Day passed. The tired Sun bowed down towards the Earth. Behind the high dark mountains the old Evening awoke and lifted his head, and his pale blue beard spread out through the valleys.
   Then the old Evening sat up, sighed and began to look at the world. The Sun was almost gone and only the last few rays of light still played across the Evening’s head. As these little rays flew past they said: “Old Evening! Try and catch us! You won’t be able to!”
   The old Evening said nothing, but smiled quietly into his beard and stroked his long moustache.
   At last the Sun disappeared completely behind the horizon. The old Evening glanced around, picked up his staff and cloak, sighed once more and stood up. The mischievous little rays of light took fright as they thought the Evening really was trying to catch them, so they hid themselves behind the horizon with the Sun. But the Evening just watched them with a smile and set off across the Earth. He strode through the valleys and the valleys grew dark; he leaned on the hills with his staff and they turned a light blue colour. The long folds of his purple cloak fluttered and spread across the mountains, which also made them turn purple.
   And then the first bold little stars flew in and perched on the Evening’s shoulders. They liked to sit and dangle their legs and sing their cheerful songs. But the old Evening remained silent and looked around at the world, then quietly smiled into his beard, stroked his moustache, and continued on his way across the Earth.

The Night

   The Day disappeared behind the horizon. The Night stirred on her soft sky-bed, then sat up and stretched herself with her eyes still closed. She bent down to the Earth, scooped up some clear water from a lake to wash her face and then woke up completely. The Night then threw off her fluffy cloud quilt and came down from the sky to the Earth. She glanced into the lake, set her hair straight and paused for a second, before gently splashing a wave on the Lazy Shore. The Shore was mesmerised by the sight of the beautiful Night. The Night started to laugh and then spread herself through the valleys and over the mountains, across the meadows and hills, the woods and the rivers. She gazed upon everything with love and nothing escaped her attention. Wherever the Night went she radiated peace, stillness and calm.. She sent the valleys, streams and rivers into a deep sleep and gave the ancient oak warm dreams of summer. The Night made everything rest peacefully.
   Finally she came to an autumn wood with yellow, red and brown leaves. The magical Night smiled, tenderly stroked the tops of the trees with her hand and covered the whole wood with a heavy veil of darkness. The trees gratefully whispered and rustled “Thank you!”
   Enchanted by the beauty of the autumn wood, the Night sat down nearby to rest, gathered some fallen twigs and began to weave a basket. When the basket was finished the Night lifted her head and gazed at the dark blue sky. It seemed empty and featureless, and the Night wanted to decorate it somehow. She thought for a moment and began to gather up different leaves in her basket: birch, oak, maple and beech. Then the Night stood up and strode into the sky, glanced at the heavens around her and started to hang the different coloured leaves here and there. Occasionally she lowered herself to the Earth just to make sure she was putting the leaves in the right place. When the whole sky was decorated with the autumn leaves, the Night glanced into the basket and noticed that there were still some leaves left in the bottom. She decided to scatter them across the sky at random, and that is what she did – all of the leaves then turned to stars and began to shine brightly. Once she had finished her work she became so tired that her eyes began to close.
   With a sigh the tired Night took the empty basket and plodded back home. She noticed that the Lazy Shore was already asleep, so she climbed into her soft sky-bed, covered herself with her cloud quilt and fell asleep too.

The Rain

   The Rain passed across the Earth. Over the forests and lakes, the rivers and fields. Sometimes slowly and other times fast, remembering his childhood when he was a small spring shower, light and playful.
   And so the Rain rushed through the meadow, leaving behind fresh grass sparkling with little droplets of water, brightly coloured flowers and a shining rainbow. When the Rain reached the forest he slowed down, let out a sigh and smiled as he remembered how in the old days he used to travel through the sky in a chariot pulled by wind-horses. The horses would gallop furiously, bolts of lightning raining down from under their hooves, and the wheels of the chariot thundered across the whole sky. Then the Rain would pour onto the Earth in great torrents, and when he had finished there was not a single dry place left, and even the thickest forests were left soaking wet. “Ah!” said the Rain, and with a smile he stopped at the edge of the forest. He took out a pipe from under his belt and lit it so that the forest became shrouded in mist from the pipe smoke.
   The Rain carried on over the forest and his route began to take him higher and higher. The oak and beech trees were soon left far behind and were replaced by dark pine forests and alpine meadows. And still the Rain plodded on, stopping occasionally to light up his pipe and smiling into his moustache.
   The meadows soon gave way to a wasteland of short stubbly grass and marshes with stones scattered here and there. The Rain was startled and said to himself: “Why am I moving so slowly? And where am I? I seem to have lost my way!” He stopped, glanced around and noticed the slopes of a mountain nearby, so he decided to climb to the very top and see what lay beyond it.
   When the Rain reached the top of the mountain he could see a huge valley on the other side, flooded with the red and golden light of the setting Sun. He sat down on a stone, and reached for his pipe again. The Rain became thoughtful and was so carried away by the beauty of the world that after a while he dozed off, with his unlit pipe still in his hands. He dreamed of his happy childhood, a summer’s day and the Beautiful Valley.
   And in the morning the autumn Rain came down from the mountain and began to cover the world with a fine drizzle.

The Frost-Child

   Somewhere in the sky a new Frost-Child was born. He was small but bright and cheerful, with lively blue eyes and rosy cheeks. From the moment he was born the Frost-Child wore a little blue hat and a fur coat with a white frosty collar.
   For several days the little Frost-Child was unable to walk, so he sat in one place and inspected everything around him. He was most interested in a thick green forest that he could see in the distance. As soon as the Frost-Child was able to stand, he headed straight for the forest as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him.
   The green forest rustled and swayed before falling silent once more. When the Frost-Child reached the forest he thought that it was waving its branches at him, calling him and inviting him to play. So the Frost-Child joyfully ran across the treetops and began to jump from branch to branch: maple to birch, birch to aspen, aspen to oak. Then he found a stout beech tree and swung from one of its branches for a while. By evening the Frost-Child had become so tired that he lay down on a soft spruce branch, covered himself with another branch and fell sound asleep.
   In the morning the Frost-Child woke up and climbed to the top of the spruce tree. He glanced around and was very surprised to see that during the night the thick green forest had turned golden, red and bronze. And the forest was not as thick as it had been the day before. The Frost-Child frowned and rubbed his brow – he could not understand what had happened. He looked around for somewhere new to play, and finally he spotted a fresh green glade in the distance, so he headed straight for it.
   When the Frost-Child reached the glade he noticed some grass with large seeds, the last autumn flowers and a tall thistle with a white fluffy head. The little Frost-Child began to clap his hands, run through the forest and turn somersaults in the air. He then studied the thistle carefully, especially its white fluffy head. The Frost-Child carefully gathered up the little white parachutes that made up the thistle-head and joyfully scattered them in the wind. After this he was tired so he sat down on a tree-stump to rest. When he looked around him he did not recognize the glade any more: the green grass had suddenly dried up, the bright flowers had become dull, the tall thistle was bent over and everything was covered with frost. The Frost-Child could not understand what had happened, but he just shrugged his shoulders and set off on the path towards the river.
   It had rained on the path and so there were a lot of puddles. The little Frost-Child peered into the biggest puddle he could find and when he saw his reflection in the water he began to laugh. He stamped his feet and jumped right into the middle of the puddle to try and make the biggest splash he could. But when he landed he was surprised to find that the puddle had turned to ice. The Frost-Child pouted his lips and sulked as he headed on towards the river.
   The banks of the river were overgrown with trees and bushes, and the river itself flowed slowly and quietly. The little Frost-Child looked at the river, sat down on a fallen tree and picked up a twig. He dipped the twig in and out of the water and then whirled it round and round to try and make the biggest splashes. But the Frost-Child soon grew tired of this game and so he then began to try and catch the autumn leaves that were floating along the river. Once he had collected a heap of leaves he lay down on the river bank and blew on the water with all his strength to make waves on the river. As he blew a thin crust of ice began to form on the surface of the water. The Frost-Child knitted his brow and pouted – it seemed that the river did not want to play with him anymore! So he climbed onto the fallen tree again and angrily turned his back to the river.
   At this point the Earth suddenly began to shake and there was a loud crash. The Frost-Child heard a voice: “Frost-Child! Where are you? Where are you hiding from your grandfather?” The little Frost-Child leapt in the air with joy and called: “Oh grandpa!!!” He hoped that his beloved grandfather would explain why no-one wanted to play with him. Perhaps his grandfather would feel sorry for him and play with him instead? And so the Frost-Child rushed through the forest to meet his grandfather, the great Hard Frost, calling loudly as he went: “Grandpa! Grandpa! I’m here!”

The Brothers Cold

   Wherever they went, from the far north to the warm south, the four Brothers Cold travelled in a cart pulled by oxen. The eldest Cold, with his long drooping moustaches and flowing beard, held the reins in his hands and dozed off now and again while wrapped up in his warm sheepskin coat. His younger brother, the middle Cold, sat on the cart with his hat pushed to one side, tugged at his moustache and kept his eye on his elder brother to make sure that he did not drop the reins. The young Cold lay in the cart with his hands behind his head, looking at the Sun during the day and the stars at night. He would sing songs about travelling or tell his brothers tales and funny stories to make the journey pass more quickly. The fourth brother was a little Cold-Child, and his brothers were taking him on the road with them for the first time. He was travelling on the cart too, pressed tightly to the young Cold, looking to either side and listening to what his older brothers were saying.
   The Colds were heading south to market to sell or exchange the produce from their icy northern farm. All summer the brothers had mined snow-salt and shorn wool from their fluffy white cloud-sheep. The eldest Cold’s wife, Severe Cold, had spun the wool during the summer, wound it into balls and then knitted warm cardigans with beautiful frosty patterns on them. The middle brother’s wife, Blizzard, had gathered white swan feathers in summer and made warm fluffy pillows and quilts. The young Cold’s wife, Snowflake, was very good at making lace and weaving delicate shawls.
   Grandmother Snowstorm also lived with the Colds and looked after her beloved youngest grandson. She also grew snowflakes and icicles in her ice-garden. Sometimes she knitted hats, scarves, mittens and socks for her grandchildren and for sale at market. She rarely travelled to market herself, but when her grandchildren went she often asked them to bring back unusual items for her, such as warm air from the South Wind in exchange for a hat or scarf. Severe Cold, Blizzard and Snowflake usually asked them to bring back satin and silk for making clothes and various southern sweets that they could not buy in the north.
   And so each year the Brothers Cold filled their cart with salt, wool, quilts, pillows, lace and shawls and travelled south. And this is what they were doing now, the oxen plodding slowly along and the wheels of the cart creaking gently. As the wheels creaked the eldest brother began to fall asleep, followed the middle brother, and then the young Cold nodded off too. The little Cold-Child was the last to fall asleep. The eldest Cold dropped the reins but none of the brothers noticed, and so the oxen were now able to go wherever they pleased.
   The road gradually began to climb upwards. At the very top of the hill the oxen for some reason decided to turn off the road. One wheel of the cart then hit a large stone and broke, so that the cart turned over on its side and scattered the pillows, quilts, sacks of salt, shawls and lace all over the ground. The Brothers Cold also fell off the cart and woke up with a start. They smoothed their beards and moustaches, shook their heads, rolled up their sleeves and set about repairing the wheel.
   At this point all the Winds from every direction suddenly appeared. They had come for the snow-salt and did not want to wait until the brothers reached the market. The South Wind gave the Colds a bag of warm air for grandmother Snowstorm in exchange for one of the sacks of snow-salt.
   Once they had stocked up with snow-salt the Winds flew away in different directions just as they had come. But when the sacks of salt had fallen from the cart, some of them had torn slightly in places without anyone noticing. And so as the Winds carried them across the world, snow-salt poured slowly out of the holes and fell on the ground as a blizzard.
   When the Colds had finished repairing the wheel they realised that their youngest brother, the Cold-Child, was nowhere to be found. They set about looking for him all over the hillside but they could not find him anywhere, so they went back to the cart and began to push aside the fallen goods. And there amongst the quilts and pillows they discovered the Cold-Child fast asleep. The Brothers Cold sighed happily, gathered all the goods and stacked them back on the cart. Then they carefully laid their youngest brother on top of the soft quilts and set off on the road again, but this time the three eldest Colds did not sleep and kept a close eye on the oxen.
   When they reached the top of the next hill they could see the southern market in the valley below. It was not long before the Colds entered the gates of the market, and they were immediately surrounded by those wanting to buy and exchange their goods. The Fields and the Meadows immediately bought all the quilts and pillows to keep them warm in the winter. The Forests exchanged multi-coloured satin leaves for woolly shawls. The ancient Oaks bought scarves for themselves and the Rivers and Lakes chose cardigans with nice frosty patterns. The Flowers exchanged their summer honey smells for hats and mittens. The Guelder Rose and Rowan chose scarves for winter in exchange for guelder rose and rowan berries that the wives of the brothers Cold could use. The Bushes, Stones and Tussocks bought snow-wool and wound it around themselves in thick snowdrifts.
   When the brothers had only a few icicles and a basket of frosty snowflakes left, the Clouds from distant lands arrived at the market. They soon became interested in the white snowflakes, which sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds. And so the Clouds bought the basket of snowflakes and sailed off with them. When the Clouds were happy they liked to pour out the beautiful snowflakes wherever the Earth had become dark and gloomy after the autumn rains. The Clouds also liked to decorate the dark green spruce trees with snowflakes to brighten them up a little.
   At the end of the day the Sun himself called in at the market. He had already been looking closely at the icicles from high up in the sky, and had now decided to buy them. When the warm spring came he would use them to decorate the trees, the river banks and valleys, and the houses of those strange creatures called people. But the Brothers Cold decided to give the icicles to the Sun as a present. The Sun accepted the gift, and in return he gave them a box full of northern lights, so that whenever the Colds and their wives opened the box, the northern lights would light up their harsh, icy land with a beautiful and mysterious light. The Sun then said goodbye and set off back to his home beyond the horizon to hide the icicles until spring.
   Now the Colds began to pack up and wrap everything that they had bought or exchanged. They carefully stowed away the satin leaves for their wives’ clothes and safely packed the little bottles of flower scent. Into the cart went the southern sweets and fruit, the sack of warm air for their grandmother Snowstorm, and the rowan berries. The box of northern lights was put in pride of place on the cart, the oxen were harnessed and the Colds set off on their homeward journey.
   As before, the eldest Cold held the reins in his hands and dozed off now and again. The middle Cold kept his eyes on the road, which was now thoroughly covered with snow-salt or sprinkled with snowflakes. The young Cold lay on the cart, singing songs during the day and telling stories that made his elder brothers happy or sad. At night he looked at the stars, which in winter you could almost reach out and touch. The little Cold-Child sat and looked at everything with wide eyes. He was amazed at how the Earth had changed, with everything now covered with quilts, huddled up in scarves, hats and cardigans or wrapped in wool. The Cold-Child remembered that on the way to the market everything around had looked completely different. He could not wait to tell his grandmother about all the wonderful things he had seen on the road and at the market, and all his adventures along the way. Most of all though, he really just wanted to go home. But the oxen were not in any hurry, and they slowly plodded on their way from the southern market to the far north with the wheels of the cart creaking gently behind them. The little Cold-Child finally fell asleep, pressed tightly to his brother, the young Cold.

The Sound

   Beside a river at the bottom of a deep ravine lived the Sound. He was invisible but everyone could hear him. Wherever the Sound went, whatever he did, the whole world heard him. Even when he was asleep at night on the riverbank he could be heard as a deep murmur in the water. Only when the Sound sat on a big smooth stone in the middle of the river and quietly meditated was the air filled with a ringing silence.
   When the Sun rose and lit up the sides of the ravine, the Sound also rose high up into the sky and sang with the birds. When the summer evening sky was filled with dark storm clouds and the rain came pouring down, the Sound joyfully clapped his hands as the raindrops pattered on the ground and splashed in the puddles. After a thunderstorm the Sound followed the streams of water as they gushed down the ravine into the overflowing river. He thundered with the stones as they washed over the riverbed and gurgled with the whirlpools made by the rushing water. Once everything had become calm again the Sound settled down on the riverbank for a well-earned rest. When autumn arrived, the Sound accompanied the fine rain as it whispered across the grass and pattered quietly on the yellow leaves that were strewn on the ground. He played hide-and-seek with the autumn mist at the bend in the river, appearing first on one riverbank and then on the other.
   In winter the cold Winds often rode through the ravine on their frosty horses. The Sound followed them with a whistle, which spurred the frosty horses on even faster, covering the ravine and the river with snow thrown up by their hooves. After the Winds came the mischievous Snowstorm. She whirled around laughing, covering everything in her path and singing songs as she went. The Sound loved to dance with this snowy beauty and would join in with her as she sang.
   With the coming of spring, the Sound was usually so busy and so happy with the bright shining Sun that he hardly ever had time to rest. He creaked with the breaking ice and gurgled noisily with the water from the melting snow as it poured into the river. The Sound ran through the forests and fields, woke the birds from their sleep and reminded them of their cheerful songs. He sang softly to the first flowers and leaves about the new life ahead of them. He filled the wings of beetles and bumble-bees with humming and buzzing. Wherever he went, the Sound was busy with the spring tasks; in fact he did not sit down all day, and so by evening he was awfully tired. And so the Sound went down to the bottom of the warm ravine and lay down to sleep on the soft green grass beside the river. As he slept he murmured with the quiet water and lapped with the soft waves against the riverbank under the moonlit starry sky.

The Winds and the Silence

   On the Top of the World, all the Winds from land and sea had gathered. The oldest Winds were seated on soft fluffy clouds, and they watched as the adult Winds tried to outdo each other in feats of strength and whistling competitions. The Wind-children played their games and got under the feet of the adults, while the very youngest sat near the old Winds and listened to their stories about how to become a real Wind.
   Suddenly all the Winds died down. Very quietly, and without anyone noticing, the Queen of Silence had appeared. Perhaps she came down from high up in the sky, or maybe she rose up from the depths of the ocean; no-one could tell because she always moved everywhere so quietly. And now the Queen of Silence stood silently on the Top of the World, looking at the Winds with her head slightly to one side. Her delicate crown sparkled with frost and her dark star-covered cloak billowed out around her. The Queen of Silence liked nothing better than to surprise the Winds and they always fell silent when they saw her.
   But then the Winds began to rouse themselves. The old Winds nodded their heads to welcome the Queen, the adult Winds politely bowed and the Wind-children ran up to her and held the edge of her cloak, ready to follow her wherever she went. The very youngest Winds gazed in wonder at the Queen of Silence, blinked and smiled from ear to ear.
   And then the Queen clasped her hands together and started to laugh, and a sound like little silver bells rang out across the whole sky. She bowed to the old Winds, patted the Wind-children on the head and smothered the baby Winds with kisses.
   In the meantime, some of the adult Winds had found the most beautiful fluffy white cloud, carried it to the Top of the World, and made the softest, most comfortable seat for the Queen of Silence. The Queen was tired after her journey and so she took off her purple cloak, sat down on the fluffy white cloud and let out a big sigh.
   The Wind-children glanced at one another and then dashed off to fetch the Queen of Silence a little jug of cool water from a pure clear spring. The Queen took a sip, settled herself a little more comfortably on the soft cloud and said: “Strong Winds, fast Winds, light Winds, warm Winds, Winds snowy and hot, stormy and powerful, Wind-children and baby Winds! You fly above the world, see and hear everything, and know all there is to know. Tell me, dear Winds, what gives you pleasure in our world, what makes you happy and what surprises you. Tell me, Winds, how do people live, what do they sing songs about, how high do the birds fly, how do the flowers bloom in spring, how does the sea makes waves, how does the forest stir, how does winter arrive without a sound”.
   The Winds became worried and tried to think of the most amazing and beautiful things they had seen in the world. And then the oldest Wind stroked his long beard and began to speak: “I have travelled far across the Earth, and only yesterday I was flying above the sea with its blue waters and white waves. When these waves reached land they were dashed against the shore and formed mighty cliffs. I was carried away by the sight of such strength and beauty. I sat down on a cliff and fell into thought, and then the moon rose up into the sky. The blue sea grew quiet and a shaft of moonlight danced across it. I have never seen anything more beautiful and powerful than the sea, dear Queen!” And so the old Wind spoke and then fell silent.
   The Winds began to talk amongst themselves again, trying to decide who had the best story to tell the Queen of Silence. At last, another old Wind began to speak: “One winter I was strolling through forests of oak and fir, quietly singing songs in the treetops, breaking off the dry branches and blowing the old autumn leaves to the ground. The winter was just like any other. But then one night a storm cloud drifted over the forest and covered everything with fresh snow. In the morning, dear Queen, I did not recognize the forest – it had turned into a fairy tale! The oaks had put on white woolly scarves, the fir-trees had dressed themselves up in lacy cloaks of frost and snowy fur coats, and the grass and flowers had covered themselves with a thick white quilt. When morning came, all these garments of frost and snow began to sparkle in the sun like jewels. So what was I to do? It seemed a shame to destroy such a fairy-tale, so I died down and left it as it was. And then I heard people singing somewhere in the distance. I decided to find out what had made them so happy and what they were celebrating, so I followed the singing and eventually came to a village. I quietly peeped into the windows of the houses and saw people gathered there to greet the New Year – they were baking little pies and columns of smoke rose up from their chimneys into the sky. There was joy and happiness everywhere! Then they began to sing a new song and my soul was so filled with warmth that I wanted to join the people in their celebrations. I found a house where they were singing, tapped on the window, and then slipped through a gap under the door and began to sing in the chimney. You would have liked it dear Queen!” And so the old Wind finished his story and fell silent. All the other Winds nodded their approval, and the Queen of Silence agreed that she would have loved to see such a winter fairy-tale and people welcoming the New Year.
   And then a warm south Wind stepped forward and said: “Old Winds! Why are you entertaining our guest with such stories of winter and bad weather? There are other kinds of beauty in the world”. All eyes turned to the warm Wind as he sat down opposite the Queen of Silence and began his tale: “Each spring my brothers arrive from the south to drive away the cold snow clouds from the northern lands, to melt the snow and break the ice on the rivers and lakes. They carry the first birds on their shoulders and warm the first flowers with their breath. This year, as usual, I followed the first warm Winds to a far-off cold land. I love to see how the first blades of grass struggle out of the ground, how the new young leaves burst out on the trees, how streams gurgle over the land. As I flew over the gardens filled with cherries, plums and apples, the thought came to me that my younger brothers had never seen spring gardens and flowering meadows before. And so I decided to return home and carry the Wind-children with me to show them the whole world”.
   “When I reached my home on the Top of the World, two Wind-children and little baby Wind were waiting for me. I scooped them all up into a basket and we set off across the mountains, forests and deep blue sea to visit the spring gardens. By evening we had reached a little garden that had a seat in it for weary travellers to rest, so we decided to stop there for the night. But the naughty Wind-children did not want to go to bed yet, and they jumped out of the basket and started to run across the grass. They hid themselves in the raspberry-bushes, chased each other round the trees and played with the first young leaves, before falling asleep in the branches of an apple-tree together with the baby Wind. While the tired little Winds slept peacefully, large pink buds appeared on the apple-tree. At dawn the baby Wind was the first to wake, and when he saw the blossoms around him he began to laugh with joy. He then blew gently on the apple-tree and it broke into blossom. And that is the end of my story, dear Queen”, said the south Wind.
   The Queen of Silence whispered: “What a wonderful story”, and then gradually fell into a deep sleep. Soon afterwards the old Winds also dozed off, the adult Winds grew quiet and the Wind-children and baby Winds lay down in their soft little beds. Everything died down and became silent on the Top of the World and the world itself sank into a beautiful and peaceful sleep.

Lyubov Talimonova The Lullaby Tales Translated from the Russian original by David Parfitt