the Tale of Serbia
Lived alone among beautiful Balkan Mountains a close-knit family once. Brothers always helped the father of a mouth of sheep and to plow the earth, together they built to themselves the high new house, together beat off attacks of wild neighbors - Turks from the southern mountains and northern fair-haired barbarians.
Somehow ached the father and called the sons.
- my Children, - the father told, - heart prompts to me that my days are considered. I feel, it will be difficult for you without me, well what to do, life is so arranged, the person cannot eternally go on a green fragrant grass, on the native earth …
Elder brothers grew sad, and younger, by the name of Bosnjak, it seems, and not really was upset. To tell the truth, very much it liked one black-eyed Turkish woman - it was seen by him few years ago when in mountains there passed the horde from the South. The hot beauty charmed heart of the thoughtless young man, and since then Bosnjak almost did not think of relatives - all thoughts were occupied by the southern beauty. Meanwhile the gray-haired father continued to tell
- I Know, hardly it is necessary to you - time will come and angry people will run, strangers will want to appropriate our generous earth and our corpulent meadows, the shady woods and blue mountains. But you remember one - as rods in this broom, - the father pointed to a hut corner, - you have to keep together … The eldest son, take - that broom.
the Elder brother by the name of the Serbian, being perplexed, executed the father`s order.
- And now, - the father says to it, - try to break rods at one stroke.
the Serbian strong hands began to bend a broom - that slightly bent and cracked, but did not break.
Then the father ordered to the average brother, the Croat, to break rods, then to Bosnjak, younger. Neither that, nor another could break strong coordinated harmonous bunch of rods.
- And you have to be on friendly terms and support strong one another both in trouble, and in pleasure! - the father told them.
A then demanded to untie a sheaf and to try to break on one twig. And now rods broke quickly and with a crash.
- Remember, together you - force! One by one any enemy will cope with you easily. Remember!.
Long he was ill, from time to time it became slightly better for him when drank broths of curative herbs, but eventually old wounds prevailed - the father died.
his brothers Buried, pokruchinitsya - but life prevails, day passed behind day, it appeared many and to grieve works was once. Brothers gradually began to forget prophetic words of the old father.
The first unconsciousness seized the younger son. Bosnjak changed orthodox belief of the fathers and grandfathers, married the southern beauty and became the Muslim.
Soon and the Croat became the stranger for the brothers - he in increasing frequency glanced at the North, and eventually accepted Catholic belief instead of orthodox, and in wives took the girl from the northern people.
to Brothers became close in the fatherly house. Squabbles began between them, young wives whispered to husbands something on an ear all the time, and already the younger brother with hostility looks at the senior, and average, the Croat, with a squint looks at both brothers.
I happened so that someone from brothers or their wives too strongly heated the center - fire licked a wooden bench, was thrown on a table and a cloth, and then on strong wooden walls... But that even the strongest walls when they are gnawed from within by the treacherous fire can - the flame flashed with a new force and … by the evening the fatherly house burned down. The elder brother tried to fill in with water the flaring logs - yes everything vainly, it was not succeeded to rescue the native dwelling …
A relatives of their wives came to lands of brothers, and divided among themselves and meadows and the woods, and the rivers and mountains. Hostility, having lodged in the hearts of brothers, did not cease, all of them blamed one another, having absolutely forgotten the will of the father. However, the eldest son remembered sometimes the story about twigs which are easy for breaking one by one - but did not can make anything any more.
Poor, poor distressful earth. She cries morning dews, the sky autumn rains over a grave of the old person whose wise words are forgotten by the children who are not knowing relationship …
in day on June 25 any more - Day of friendship, a unification of Slavs cries!.