In a narrow, crooked alley, among other miserable houses, there stood a narrow, tall house, half stone, half wooden, ready to creep away from all sides. Poor people lived in it; The conditions were especially poor and wretched in the closet huddled under the very roof. Outside the window of the closet hung an old cage, in which there was not even a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and overturned with the corked end. An old girl stood by the open window and treated the linnet with fresh woodlice, and the bird happily jumped from perch to perch and burst into song.
“It’s good for you to sing!” - the bottleneck said, of course not the way we speak, - the bottleneck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes talk to themselves mentally. “Yes, you are good at singing! All your bones are probably intact! But if you tried to lose your entire body, like me, and be left with only your neck and your mouth, and plugged with a cork, you probably wouldn’t sing! However, it’s good that at least someone can have fun! I have no reason to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing now! And in old times when I was still a whole bottle, and I would sing if they ran a wet cork over me. I was even once called a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier’s daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it were yesterday! I have experienced a lot, as I think about it, I have gone through fire and water, been both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I’m again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”
And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it through to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in its cage. Below, people were walking and driving along the street, each thinking his own thoughts or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!
It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became completely reconciled with her new situation. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them here! They all came from the same oven, but some were intended for champagne, others for beer, and that’s the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but still the natural purpose of each is immediately revealed by its style - a noble one will remain noble even with wax inside!
All bottles were packed; our bottle too; Then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in essence, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw the white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and washed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she didn’t know what. But then they filled it with wonderful wine, corked it and sealed it with wax, and stuck a label on the side: “First grade.” The bottle seemed to have received the highest mark in an exam; but the wine was really good, and so was the bottle. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and boys, they pick grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the souls of young poets - they, too, often themselves do not know what they are singing about.
One morning they bought a bottle, and a boy from the furrier came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, the most wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything in the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; Her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her arms were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately clear that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - has not yet been matched!
The whole family went to the forest; the girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the neck of the bottle protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red sealing wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbor-painter, the beauty’s childhood playmate, who was sitting next to her. He had just passed his exam with flying colors, and the next day he had to sail on a ship to foreign countries. There was a lot of talk about this during the preparations for the forest, and at these moments no particular joy was noticed in the gaze and expression of the face of the furrier’s pretty daughter.
The young people went wandering through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle didn’t hear this: after all, it remained in the basket and even managed to get bored while standing there. But finally they pulled her out, and she immediately saw that during this time things had managed to take the most cheerful turn: everyone’s eyes were laughing, the furrier’s daughter was smiling, but somehow spoke less than before, and her cheeks were blooming with roses.
Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew... And you experience a strange feeling when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork was literally knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped her, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: peck, peck, peck!
To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beautiful bride.
God bless you! - the old men added. The young sailor filled the glasses again and exclaimed:
Here's to my return home and our wedding in exactly one year! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You witnessed the most beautiful moments of my life, so don’t serve anyone else!
It never occurred to the furrier’s daughter that she would ever again see the same bottle high, high in the air, but she did.
The bottle fell into the thick reeds growing along the banks of a small forest lake. Bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bride or groom, or the happy old people, but for a long time she could hear their cheerful rejoicing and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw the bottle and took it - now it was attached.
The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their elder brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was busy, putting in his chest this and that that he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city to once again say goodbye to his son and convey to him his mother’s blessing. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly the boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than the small one. It could have contained much more tincture, but the tincture was very good and even healing - good for the stomach. So, the bottle was no longer filled with red wine, but bitters, but this is also good for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had seen it, he would not have recognized it; It would never have occurred to him that this was the same one from which they drank in the forest for his engagement and happy return home.
True, there was no longer wine in the bottle, but there was something just as good, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy,” as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that had such a good effect on the stomach. And the medicine retained its effect healing property right down to its last drop. It was a fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was passed over it, and for this it was nicknamed the “big lark” or “Peter Jensen’s lark.”
A lot of time has passed; the bottle had been standing empty in the corner for a long time; suddenly disaster struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or on the way back, the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and leaked, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, capped it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. Little did he know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swinging, swam across the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.
The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: after all, it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back. She experienced calm and new storms, but did not crash on the rocks or fall into the mouth of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves back and forth; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that could get boring.
A scribbled piece of paper, the groom's last farewell to the bride, would bring with it nothing but grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy engagement day? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the birthplace of the bottle? What country was she approaching now? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed through the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. It was not at all her business to rush along the waves, and yet she rushed about until she finally sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was being said around her: they were speaking some foreign, unfamiliar language to her, and not the one to which she was accustomed in her homeland; Not understanding the language spoken around you is a big loss!
They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out the note, turned it this way and that, but couldn’t take it apart, although they realized that the bottle had been thrown from a dying ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that’s the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large closet that stood in the large room of the large house.
Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, spun and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and in the end completely erased - no one would now be able to say what was on this piece of paper when -something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was all covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered better days when red wine was poured from her in a green forest, when she swayed on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, a final farewell!..
It stood in the attic for twenty years; It would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. They took off the roof, saw the bottle and said something, but she still didn’t understand a word - you can’t learn a language by standing in the attic, even if you stand there for twenty years! “If I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”
The bottle was washed and rinsed - it really needed it. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if she had become younger again; but the note she was carrying inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.
The bottle was filled with some seeds unfamiliar to her; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you have to see something when you travel,” the bottle thought, but it still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off and arrived where she should. Here it was unpacked.
They really tried their best there, abroad! Look how they packed it, and yet it’s probably cracked! - the bottle heard, but it turned out that it was not cracked.
The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the smelting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, in her homeland! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely noticed that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But at home it’s good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the oka had stood there, but it had stood there for more than a year! But then people came again and took all the bottles in the basement, including ours.
The garden was magnificently decorated; garlands of multi-colored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns glowed like transparent tulips. It was a wonderful evening, the weather was clear and calm. The stars and the young moon shone in the sky; However, not only its golden, crescent-shaped edge was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. The side alleys were also illuminated, although not as brilliant as the main ones, but quite sufficient to prevent people from stumbling in the darkness. Here, between the bushes, bottles with lighted candles stuck into them were placed; This is where our bottle was located, which was destined to ultimately serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in delight; She again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, singing and music, laughter and chatter of the crowd were heard, especially thick where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, however, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - it served both for beauty and for benefit, and that’s the whole point. At such moments you will forget even the twenty years spent in the attic - what could be better!
A couple passed by the bottle arm in arm, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier’s daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed transported back in time. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers also walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; Among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - oskazkah.ru - site - after all, she herself participated in that joyful walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you won’t forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn’t recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn’t recognize her. This happens all over the world: old acquaintances meet and go their separate ways without recognizing each other, until they meet again.
And I was waiting for the bottle new meeting with an old friend - they were now in the same city!
From the garden the bottle went to the wine merchant, was again filled with wine and sold to the balloonist, who was scheduled to take off in a hot air balloon the following Sunday. A large audience had gathered, a brass band was playing; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from the basket where it lay next to the live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be lowered down from a height by parachute! The bottle didn’t even know where they would fly - up or down; she only saw that the ball inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally they were cut off, and the balloon soared into the air along with the aeronaut, the basket, the bottle and the rabbit. The music thundered and the people shouted “hurray.”
“It’s somehow strange to fly through the air! - thought the bottle. - Here new way swimming! At least you won’t bump into a rock here!”
A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; The old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with a linnet, which also served as a teacup instead of a glass. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl moved it to the side so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished a balloon in the sky and an aeronaut who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from a bottle to the health of the residents and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé had thrown high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!
The bottle didn’t even have time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny!..
And so she began to fall down, and much faster than the rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her, but not for long - it ran out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; The bottle soon disappeared from the eyes of the spectators. She fell on the roof and was broken. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and galloped along the roof until they found themselves in the yard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It was as if it had been cut with a diamond!
What a nice glass for a bird! - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself had neither a bird nor a cage, and to acquire them only because he came across a bottleneck suitable for a glass would have been too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic might have found it useful, and the bottleneck came to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - they poured fresh water into it and hung it from a cage in which the linnet was still pouring.
Yes, you're good at singing! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a hot air balloon! The rest of the circumstances of his life were unknown to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the talk of the crowd could be heard from the street, and from the closet - the voice of an old girl. An old friend of her own age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about the bottleneck, but about the myrtle tree that stood in the window.
Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter! - said the old girl. - Take my myrtle! See how wonderful it is, all in flowers! It grew from a shoot of the myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never got around to it! Those eyes that were supposed to shine on me for joy and happiness all my life have closed! My dear fiancé is sleeping at the bottom of the sea!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry out, I took the last fresh twig from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally end up at the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!
Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember the friend of her youth, the engagement in the forest, the toast to their health, she thought about her first kiss... but did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there was another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such a noise when they drank to the health of the engaged. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she was saying, but mainly because it thought only of itself.
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In a narrow, crooked alley, among other miserable houses, there stood a narrow, tall house, half stone, half wooden, ready to creep away from all sides. Poor people lived in it; The conditions were especially poor and wretched in the closet huddled under the very roof. Outside the window of the closet hung an old cage, in which there was not even a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and overturned with the corked end. An old girl stood by the open window and treated the linnet with fresh woodlice, and the bird happily jumped from perch to perch and burst into song.
“It’s good for you to sing!” - the bottleneck said, of course not the way we speak, - the bottleneck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes talk to themselves mentally. “Yes, you are good at singing! All your bones are probably intact! But if you tried to lose your entire body, like me, and be left with only your neck and your mouth, and plugged with a cork, you probably wouldn’t sing! However, it’s good that at least someone can have fun! I have no reason to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing now! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, I would sing if they ran a wet cork over me. I was even once called a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier’s daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it were yesterday! I have experienced a lot, as I think about it, I have gone through fire and water, been both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I’m again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”
And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it through to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in its cage. Below, people were walking and driving along the street, each thinking his own thoughts or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!
It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became completely reconciled with her new situation. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them here! They all came from the same oven, but some were intended for champagne, others for beer, and that’s the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but still the natural purpose of each is immediately revealed by its style - a noble one will remain noble even with wax inside!
All bottles were packed; our bottle too; Then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in essence, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw the white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and washed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she didn’t know what. But then they filled it with wonderful wine, corked it and sealed it with wax, and stuck a label on the side: “First grade.” The bottle seemed to have received the highest mark in an exam; but the wine was really good, and so was the bottle. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and boys, they pick grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the souls of young poets - they, too, often themselves do not know what they are singing about.
One morning they bought a bottle, and a boy from the furrier came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, the most wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything in the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; Her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her arms were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately clear that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been matched!
The whole family went to the forest; the girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the neck of the bottle protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red sealing wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbor-painter, the beauty’s childhood playmate, who was sitting next to her. He had just passed his exam with flying colors, and the next day he had to sail on a ship to foreign countries. There was a lot of talk about this during the preparations for the forest, and at these moments no particular joy was noticed in the gaze and expression of the face of the furrier’s pretty daughter.
The young people went wandering through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle didn’t hear this: after all, it remained in the basket and even managed to get bored while standing there. But finally they pulled her out, and she immediately saw that during this time things had managed to take the most cheerful turn: everyone’s eyes were laughing, the furrier’s daughter was smiling, but somehow spoke less than before, and her cheeks were blooming with roses.
Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew... And you experience a strange feeling when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork was literally knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped her, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: peck, peck, peck!
To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beautiful bride.
God bless you! - the old men added. The young sailor filled the glasses again and exclaimed:
Here's to my return home and our wedding in exactly one year! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You witnessed the most beautiful moments of my life, so don’t serve anyone else!
It never occurred to the furrier’s daughter that she would ever again see the same bottle high, high in the air, but she did.
The bottle fell into the thick reeds growing along the banks of a small forest lake. Bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bride or groom, or the happy old people, but for a long time she could hear their cheerful rejoicing and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw the bottle and took it - now it was attached.
The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their elder brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was busy, putting in his chest this and that that he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city to once again say goodbye to his son and convey to him his mother’s blessing. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly the boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than the small one. It could have contained much more tincture, but the tincture was very good and even healing - good for the stomach. So, the bottle was filled not with red wine, but with bitters, but this is also good for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had seen it, he would not have recognized it; It would never have occurred to him that this was the same one from which they drank in the forest for his engagement and happy return home.
True, there was no longer wine in the bottle, but there was something just as good, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy,” as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that had such a good effect on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties until its last drop. It was a fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was passed over it, and for this it was nicknamed the “big lark” or “Peter Jensen’s lark.”
A lot of time has passed; the bottle had been standing empty in the corner for a long time; suddenly disaster struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or on the way back, the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and leaked, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, capped it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. Little did he know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swinging, swam across the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.
The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: after all, it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back. She experienced calm and new storms, but did not crash on the rocks or fall into the mouth of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves back and forth; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that could get boring.
A scribbled piece of paper, the groom's last farewell to the bride, would bring with it nothing but grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy engagement day? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the birthplace of the bottle? What country was she approaching now? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed through the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. It was not at all her business to rush along the waves, and yet she rushed about until she finally sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was being said around her: they were speaking some foreign, unfamiliar language to her, and not the one to which she was accustomed in her homeland; Not understanding the language spoken around you is a big loss!
They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out the note, turned it this way and that, but couldn’t take it apart, although they realized that the bottle had been thrown from a dying ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that’s the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large closet that stood in the large room of the large house.
Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, spun and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and in the end completely erased - no one would now be able to say what was on this piece of paper when -something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was all covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days, when red wine was poured from her in the green forest, when she swayed on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, a last farewell!..
It stood in the attic for twenty years; It would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. They took off the roof, saw the bottle and said something, but she still didn’t understand a word - you can’t learn a language by standing in the attic, even if you stand there for twenty years! “If I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”
The bottle was washed and rinsed - it really needed it. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if she had become younger again; but the note she was carrying inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.
The bottle was filled with some seeds unfamiliar to her; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you have to see something when you travel,” the bottle thought, but it still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off and arrived where she should. Here it was unpacked.
They really tried their best there, abroad! Look how they packed it, and yet it’s probably cracked! - the bottle heard, but it turned out that it was not cracked.
The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the smelting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, in her homeland! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely noticed that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But at home it’s good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the oka had stood there, but it had stood there for more than a year! But then people came again and took all the bottles in the basement, including ours.
The garden was magnificently decorated; garlands of multi-colored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns glowed like transparent tulips. It was a wonderful evening, the weather was clear and calm. The stars and the young moon shone in the sky; However, not only its golden, crescent-shaped edge was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. The side alleys were also illuminated, although not as brilliant as the main ones, but quite sufficient to prevent people from stumbling in the darkness. Here, between the bushes, bottles with lighted candles stuck into them were placed; This is where our bottle was located, which was destined to ultimately serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in delight; She again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, singing and music, laughter and chatter of the crowd were heard, especially thick where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, however, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - it served both for beauty and for benefit, and that’s the whole point. At such moments you will forget even the twenty years spent in the attic - what could be better!
A couple passed by the bottle arm in arm, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier’s daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed transported back in time. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers also walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; Among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that joyful walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you won’t forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn’t recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn’t recognize her. This happens all over the world: old acquaintances meet and go their separate ways without recognizing each other, until they meet again.
And a new meeting with an old friend was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!
From the garden the bottle went to the wine merchant, was again filled with wine and sold to the balloonist, who was scheduled to take off in a hot air balloon the following Sunday. A large audience had gathered, a brass band was playing; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from the basket where it lay next to the live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be lowered down from a height by parachute! The bottle didn’t even know where they would fly - up or down; she only saw that the ball inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally they were cut off, and the balloon soared into the air along with the aeronaut, the basket, the bottle and the rabbit. The music thundered and the people shouted “hurray.”
“It’s somehow strange to fly through the air! - thought the bottle. - Here's a new way of swimming! At least you won’t bump into a rock here!”
A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; The old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with a linnet, which also served as a teacup instead of a glass. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl moved it to the side so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished a balloon in the sky and an aeronaut who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from a bottle to the health of the residents and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé had thrown high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!
The bottle didn’t even have time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life’s path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny!..
And so she began to fall down, and much faster than the rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her, but not for long - it ran out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; The bottle soon disappeared from the eyes of the spectators. She fell on the roof and was broken. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and galloped along the roof until they found themselves in the yard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It was as if it had been cut with a diamond!
What a nice glass for a bird! - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself had neither a bird nor a cage, and to acquire them only because he came across a bottleneck suitable for a glass would have been too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic might have found it useful, and the bottleneck came to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - they poured fresh water into it and hung it from a cage in which the linnet was still pouring.
Yes, you're good at singing! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a hot air balloon! The rest of the circumstances of his life were unknown to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the talk of the crowd could be heard from the street, and from the closet - the voice of an old girl. An old friend of her own age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about the bottleneck, but about the myrtle tree that stood in the window.
Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter! - said the old girl. - Take my myrtle! See how wonderful it is, all in flowers! It grew from a shoot of the myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never got around to it! Those eyes that were supposed to shine on me for joy and happiness all my life have closed! My dear fiancé is sleeping at the bottom of the sea!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry out, I took the last fresh twig from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally end up at the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!
Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember the friend of her youth, the engagement in the forest, the toast to their health, thought about the first kiss... but did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there was another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such a noise when they drank to the health of the engaged. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she was saying, but mainly because it thought only of itself.
In a narrow, crooked alley, among other miserable houses, there stood a narrow, tall house, half stone, half wooden, ready to creep away from all sides. Poor people lived in it; The conditions were especially poor and wretched in the closet huddled under the very roof. Outside the window of the closet hung an old cage, in which there was not even a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and overturned with the corked end. An old girl stood by the open window and treated the linnet with fresh woodlice, and the bird happily jumped from perch to perch and burst into song.
“It’s good for you to sing!” - the bottleneck said, of course not the way we speak, - the bottleneck cannot speak - it just thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes talk to themselves mentally. “Yes, you are good at singing! All your bones are probably intact! But if you tried to lose your entire body, like me, and be left with only your neck and your mouth, and plugged with a cork, you probably wouldn’t sing! However, it’s good that at least someone can have fun! I have no reason to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing now! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, I would sing if they ran a wet cork over me. I was even once called a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier’s daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it were yesterday! I have experienced a lot, as I think about it, I have gone through fire and water, been both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I’m again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”
And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it through to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in its cage. Below, people were walking and driving along the street, each thinking his own thoughts or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!
It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became completely reconciled with her new situation. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them here! They all came from the same oven, but some were intended for champagne, others for beer, and that’s the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but still the natural purpose of each is immediately revealed by its style - a noble one will remain noble even with wax inside!
All bottles were packed; our bottle too; Then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in essence, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw the white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and washed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she didn’t know what. But then they filled it with wonderful wine, corked it and sealed it with wax, and stuck a label on the side: “First grade.” The bottle seemed to have received the highest mark in an exam; but the wine was really good, and so was the bottle. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and boys, they pick grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the souls of young poets - they, too, often themselves do not know what they are singing about.
One morning they bought a bottle, and a boy from the furrier came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, the most wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything in the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; Her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her arms were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately clear that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been matched!
The whole family went to the forest; the girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the neck of the bottle protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red sealing wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbor-painter, the beauty’s childhood playmate, who was sitting next to her. He had just passed his exam with flying colors, and the next day he had to sail on a ship to foreign countries. There was a lot of talk about this during the preparations for the forest, and at these moments no particular joy was noticed in the gaze and expression of the face of the furrier’s pretty daughter.
The young people went wandering through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle didn’t hear this: after all, it remained in the basket and even managed to get bored while standing there. But finally they pulled her out, and she immediately saw that during this time things had managed to take the most cheerful turn: everyone’s eyes were laughing, the furrier’s daughter was smiling, but somehow spoke less than before, and her cheeks were blooming with roses.
Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew... And you experience a strange feeling when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork was literally knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped her, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: peck, peck, peck!
– For the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beautiful bride.
- God bless you! - the old men added. The young sailor filled the glasses again and exclaimed:
– For my return home and our wedding in exactly one year! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You witnessed the most beautiful moments of my life, so don’t serve anyone else!
It never occurred to the furrier’s daughter that she would ever again see the same bottle high, high in the air, but she did.
The bottle fell into the thick reeds growing along the banks of a small forest lake. Bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bride or groom, or the happy old people, but for a long time she could hear their cheerful rejoicing and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw the bottle and took it - now it was attached.
The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their elder brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was busy, putting in his chest this and that that he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city to once again say goodbye to his son and convey to him his mother’s blessing. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly the boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than the small one. It could have contained much more tincture, but the tincture was very good and even healing - good for the stomach. So, the bottle was filled not with red wine, but with bitters, but this is also good for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had seen it, he would not have recognized it; It would never have occurred to him that this was the same one from which they drank in the forest for his engagement and happy return home.
True, there was no longer wine in the bottle, but there was something just as good, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy,” as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that had such a good effect on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties until its last drop. It was a fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was passed over it, and for this it was nicknamed the “big lark” or “Peter Jensen’s lark.”
A lot of time has passed; the bottle had been standing empty in the corner for a long time; suddenly disaster struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or on the way back, the bottle did not know - after all, it never went ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and leaked, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, capped it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. Little did he know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swinging, swam across the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.
The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: after all, it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back. She experienced calm and new storms, but did not crash on the rocks or fall into the mouth of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves back and forth; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that could get boring.
A scribbled piece of paper, the groom's last farewell to the bride, would bring with it nothing but grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy engagement day? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the birthplace of the bottle? What country was she approaching now? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed through the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. It was not at all her business to rush along the waves, and yet she rushed about until she finally sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was being said around her: they were speaking some foreign, unfamiliar language to her, and not the one to which she was accustomed in her homeland; Not understanding the language spoken around you is a big loss!
They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out the note, turned it this way and that, but couldn’t take it apart, although they realized that the bottle had been thrown from a dying ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that’s the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large closet that stood in the large room of the large house.
Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, spun and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and in the end completely erased - no one would now be able to say what was on this piece of paper when -something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was all covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days, when red wine was poured from her in the green forest, when she swayed on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, a last farewell!..
It stood in the attic for twenty years; It would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. They took off the roof, saw the bottle and said something, but she still didn’t understand a word - you can’t learn a language by standing in the attic, even if you stand there for twenty years! “If I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”
The bottle was washed and rinsed - it really needed it. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if she had become younger again; but the note she was carrying inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.
The bottle was filled with some seeds unfamiliar to her; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you have to see something when you travel,” the bottle thought, but it still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off and arrived where she should. Here it was unpacked.
- They really tried their best there, abroad! Look how they packed it, and yet it’s probably cracked! - the bottle heard, but it turned out that it did not crack.
The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the smelting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, in her homeland! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely noticed that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But at home it’s good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the oka had stood there, but it had stood there for more than a year! But then people came again and took all the bottles in the basement, including ours.
The garden was magnificently decorated; garlands of multi-colored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns glowed like transparent tulips. It was a wonderful evening, the weather was clear and calm. The stars and the young moon shone in the sky; However, not only its golden, crescent-shaped edge was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. The side alleys were also illuminated, although not as brilliant as the main ones, but quite sufficient to prevent people from stumbling in the darkness. Here, between the bushes, bottles with lighted candles stuck into them were placed; This is where our bottle was located, which was destined to ultimately serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in delight; She again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, singing and music, laughter and chatter of the crowd were heard, especially thick where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, however, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - it served both for beauty and for benefit, and that’s the whole point. At such moments you will forget even the twenty years spent in the attic - what could be better!
A couple passed by the bottle arm in arm, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier’s daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed transported back in time. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers also walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; Among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that joyful walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you won’t forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn’t recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn’t recognize her. This happens all over the world: old acquaintances meet and go their separate ways without recognizing each other, until they meet again.
And a new meeting with an old friend was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!
From the garden the bottle went to the wine merchant, was again filled with wine and sold to the balloonist, who was scheduled to take off in a hot air balloon the following Sunday. A large audience had gathered, a brass band was playing; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from the basket where it lay next to the live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be lowered down from a height by parachute! The bottle didn’t even know where they would fly - up or down; she only saw that the ball inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally they were cut off, and the balloon soared into the air along with the aeronaut, the basket, the bottle and the rabbit. The music thundered and the people shouted “hurray.”
“It’s somehow strange to fly through the air! - thought the bottle. - Here's a new way of swimming! At least you won’t bump into a rock here!”
A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; The old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with a linnet, which also served as a teacup instead of a glass. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl moved it to the side so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished a balloon in the sky and an aeronaut who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from a bottle to the health of the residents and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé had thrown high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!
The bottle didn’t even have time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life’s path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny!..
And so she began to fall down, and much faster than the rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her, but not for long - it poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; The bottle soon disappeared from the eyes of the spectators. She fell on the roof and was broken. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and galloped along the roof until they found themselves in the yard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It was as if it had been cut with a diamond!
- This is a nice glass for a bird! - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself had neither a bird nor a cage, and to acquire them only because he came across a bottleneck suitable for a glass would have been too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic might have found it useful, and the bottleneck came to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - they poured fresh water into it and hung it from a cage in which the linnet was still pouring.
- Yes, you’re good at singing! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a hot air balloon! The rest of the circumstances of his life were unknown to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the talk of the crowd could be heard from the street, and from the closet - the voice of an old girl. An old friend of her own age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about the bottleneck, but about the myrtle tree that stood in the window.
“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” - said the old girl. - Take my myrtle! See how wonderful it is, all in flowers! It grew from a shoot of the myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never got around to it! Those eyes that were supposed to shine on me for joy and happiness all my life have closed! My dear fiancé is sleeping at the bottom of the sea!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry out, I took the last fresh twig from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally end up at the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!
Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember the friend of her youth, the engagement in the forest, the toast to their health, she thought about her first kiss... but did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there was another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such a noise when they drank to the health of the engaged. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she was saying, but mainly because it thought only of itself.
In a narrow, crooked alley, among other miserable houses, there stood a narrow, tall house, half stone, half wooden, ready to creep away from all sides. Poor people lived in it; The conditions were especially poor and wretched in the closet huddled under the very roof. Outside the window of the closet hung an old cage, in which there was not even a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and overturned with the corked end. An old girl stood by the open window and treated the linnet with fresh woodlice, and the bird happily jumped from perch to perch and burst into song.
“It’s good for you to sing!” - the bottleneck said, of course not the way we speak, - the bottleneck cannot speak - it just thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes talk to themselves mentally. “Yes, you are good at singing! All your bones are probably intact! But if you tried to lose your entire body, like me, and be left with only your neck and your mouth, and plugged with a cork, you probably wouldn’t sing! However, it’s good that at least someone can have fun! I have no reason to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing now! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, I would sing if they ran a wet cork over me. I was even once called a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier’s daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it were yesterday! I have experienced a lot, as I think about it, I have gone through fire and water, been both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I’m again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”
And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it through to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in its cage. Below, people were walking and driving along the street, each thinking his own thoughts or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!
It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became completely reconciled with her new situation. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them here! They all came from the same oven, but some were intended for champagne, others for beer, and that’s the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but still the natural purpose of each is immediately revealed by its style - a noble one will remain noble even with wax inside!
All bottles were packed; our bottle too; Then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in essence, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw the white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and washed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she didn’t know what. But then they filled it with wonderful wine, corked it and sealed it with wax, and stuck a label on the side: “First grade.” The bottle seemed to have received the highest mark in an exam; but the wine was really good, and so was the bottle. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and boys, they pick grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the souls of young poets - they, too, often themselves do not know what they are singing about.
One morning they bought a bottle, and a boy from the furrier came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, the most wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything in the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; Her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her arms were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately clear that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been matched!
The whole family went to the forest; the girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from
In a narrow, crooked alley, among other miserable houses, there stood a narrow, tall house, half stone, half wooden, ready to creep away from all sides. Poor people lived in it; The conditions were especially poor and wretched in the closet huddled under the very roof. Outside the window of the closet hung an old cage, in which there was not even a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and overturned with the corked end. An old girl stood by the open window and treated the linnet with fresh woodlice, and the bird happily jumped from perch to perch and burst into song.
“It’s good for you to sing!” - the bottleneck said, of course not the way we speak, - the bottleneck cannot speak - it just thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes talk to themselves mentally. “Yes, you are good at singing! All your bones are probably intact! But if you tried to lose your entire body, like me, and be left with only your neck and your mouth, and plugged with a cork, you probably wouldn’t sing! However, it’s good that at least someone can have fun! I have no reason to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing now! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, I would sing if they ran a wet cork over me. I was even once called a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier’s daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it were yesterday! I have experienced a lot, as I think about it, I have gone through fire and water, been both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I’m again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”
And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it through to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in its cage. Below, people were walking and driving along the street, each thinking his own thoughts or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!
It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became completely reconciled with her new situation. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them here! They all came from the same oven, but some were intended for champagne, others for beer, and that’s the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but still the natural purpose of each is immediately revealed by its style - a noble one will remain noble even with wax inside!
All bottles were packed; our bottle too; Then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in essence, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw the white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and washed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she didn’t know what. But then they filled it with wonderful wine, corked it and sealed it with wax, and stuck a label on the side: “First grade.” The bottle seemed to have received the highest mark in an exam; but the wine was really good, and so was the bottle. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and boys, they pick grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the souls of young poets - they, too, often themselves do not know what they are singing about.
One morning they bought a bottle, and a boy from the furrier came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, the most wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything in the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; Her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her arms were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately clear that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been matched!
The whole family went to the forest; the girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the neck of the bottle protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red sealing wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbor-painter, the beauty’s childhood playmate, who was sitting next to her. He had just passed his exam with flying colors, and the next day he had to sail on a ship to foreign countries. There was a lot of talk about this during the preparations for the forest, and at these moments no particular joy was noticed in the gaze and expression of the face of the furrier’s pretty daughter.
The young people went wandering through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle didn’t hear this: after all, it remained in the basket and even managed to get bored while standing there. But finally they pulled her out, and she immediately saw that during this time things had managed to take the most cheerful turn: everyone’s eyes were laughing, the furrier’s daughter was smiling, but somehow spoke less than before, and her cheeks were blooming with roses.
Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew... And you experience a strange feeling when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork was literally knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped her, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: peck, peck, peck!
– For the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beautiful bride.
- God bless you! - the old men added. The young sailor filled the glasses again and exclaimed:
– For my return home and our wedding in exactly one year! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You witnessed the most beautiful moments of my life, so don’t serve anyone else!
It never occurred to the furrier’s daughter that she would ever again see the same bottle high, high in the air, but she did.
The bottle fell into the thick reeds growing along the banks of a small forest lake. Bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bride or groom, or the happy old people, but for a long time she could hear their cheerful rejoicing and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw the bottle and took it - now it was attached.
The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their elder brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was busy, putting in his chest this and that that he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city to once again say goodbye to his son and convey to him his mother’s blessing. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly the boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than the small one. It could have contained much more tincture, but the tincture was very good and even healing - good for the stomach. So, the bottle was filled not with red wine, but with bitters, but this is also good for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had seen it, he would not have recognized it; It would never have occurred to him that this was the same one from which they drank in the forest for his engagement and happy return home.
True, there was no longer wine in the bottle, but there was something just as good, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy,” as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that had such a good effect on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties until its last drop. It was a fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was passed over it, and for this it was nicknamed the “big lark” or “Peter Jensen’s lark.”
A lot of time has passed; the bottle had been standing empty in the corner for a long time; suddenly disaster struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or on the way back, the bottle did not know - after all, it never went ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and leaked, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, capped it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. Little did he know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swinging, swam across the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.
The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: after all, it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back. She experienced calm and new storms, but did not crash on the rocks or fall into the mouth of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves back and forth; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that could get boring.
A scribbled piece of paper, the groom's last farewell to the bride, would bring with it nothing but grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy engagement day? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the birthplace of the bottle? What country was she approaching now? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed through the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. It was not at all her business to rush along the waves, and yet she rushed about until she finally sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was being said around her: they were speaking some foreign, unfamiliar language to her, and not the one to which she was accustomed in her homeland; Not understanding the language spoken around you is a big loss!
They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out the note, turned it this way and that, but couldn’t take it apart, although they realized that the bottle had been thrown from a dying ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that’s the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large closet that stood in the large room of the large house.
Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, spun and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and in the end completely erased - no one would now be able to say what was on this piece of paper when -something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was all covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days, when red wine was poured from her in the green forest, when she swayed on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, a last farewell!..
It stood in the attic for twenty years; It would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. They took off the roof, saw the bottle and said something, but she still didn’t understand a word - you can’t learn a language by standing in the attic, even if you stand there for twenty years! “If I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”
The bottle was washed and rinsed - it really needed it. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if she had become younger again; but the note she was carrying inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.
The bottle was filled with some seeds unfamiliar to her; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you have to see something when you travel,” the bottle thought, but it still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off and arrived where she should. Here it was unpacked.
- They really tried their best there, abroad! Look how they packed it, and yet it’s probably cracked! - the bottle heard, but it turned out that it did not crack.
The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the smelting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, in her homeland! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely noticed that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But at home it’s good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the oka had stood there, but it had stood there for more than a year! But then people came again and took all the bottles in the basement, including ours.
The garden was magnificently decorated; garlands of multi-colored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns glowed like transparent tulips. It was a wonderful evening, the weather was clear and calm. The stars and the young moon shone in the sky; However, not only its golden, crescent-shaped edge was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. The side alleys were also illuminated, although not as brilliant as the main ones, but quite sufficient to prevent people from stumbling in the darkness. Here, between the bushes, bottles with lighted candles stuck into them were placed; This is where our bottle was located, which was destined to ultimately serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in delight; She again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, singing and music, laughter and chatter of the crowd were heard, especially thick where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, however, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - it served both for beauty and for benefit, and that’s the whole point. At such moments you will forget even the twenty years spent in the attic - what could be better!
A couple passed by the bottle arm in arm, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier’s daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed transported back in time. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers also walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; Among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that joyful walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you won’t forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn’t recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn’t recognize her. This happens all over the world: old acquaintances meet and go their separate ways without recognizing each other, until they meet again.
And a new meeting with an old friend was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!
From the garden the bottle went to the wine merchant, was again filled with wine and sold to the balloonist, who was scheduled to take off in a hot air balloon the following Sunday. A large audience had gathered, a brass band was playing; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from the basket where it lay next to the live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be lowered down from a height by parachute! The bottle didn’t even know where they would fly - up or down; she only saw that the ball inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally they were cut off, and the balloon soared into the air along with the aeronaut, the basket, the bottle and the rabbit. The music thundered and the people shouted “hurray.”
“It’s somehow strange to fly through the air! - thought the bottle. - Here's a new way of swimming! At least you won’t bump into a rock here!”
A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; The old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with a linnet, which also served as a teacup instead of a glass. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl moved it to the side so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished a balloon in the sky and an aeronaut who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from a bottle to the health of the residents and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé had thrown high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!
The bottle didn’t even have time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life’s path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny!..
And so she began to fall down, and much faster than the rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her, but not for long - it poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; The bottle soon disappeared from the eyes of the spectators. She fell on the roof and was broken. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and galloped along the roof until they found themselves in the yard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It was as if it had been cut with a diamond!
- This is a nice glass for a bird! - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself had neither a bird nor a cage, and to acquire them only because he came across a bottleneck suitable for a glass would have been too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic might have found it useful, and the bottleneck came to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - they poured fresh water into it and hung it from a cage in which the linnet was still pouring.
- Yes, you’re good at singing! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a hot air balloon! The rest of the circumstances of his life were unknown to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the talk of the crowd could be heard from the street, and from the closet - the voice of an old girl. An old friend of her own age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about the bottleneck, but about the myrtle tree that stood in the window.
“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” - said the old girl. - Take my myrtle! See how wonderful it is, all in flowers! It grew from a shoot of the myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never got around to it! Those eyes that were supposed to shine on me for joy and happiness all my life have closed! My dear fiancé is sleeping at the bottom of the sea!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry out, I took the last fresh twig from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally end up at the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!
Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember the friend of her youth, the engagement in the forest, the toast to their health, she thought about her first kiss... but did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there was another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such a noise when they drank to the health of the engaged. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she was saying, but mainly because it thought only of itself.
