Donkey ears expression. Ears from a dead donkey
On November 5, 2015, it became known that the ministers of justice of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia signed a memorandum of cooperation, which states that they are going to present Russia with a demand for compensation for damages for the period of “Soviet occupation.” At the same time, the head of the Estonian Ministry of Justice noted: “According to international law, damage from the occupation can be claimed both in the form of compensation for material damage and in the form of an apology.”
The Baltic republics are considered the beginning of the “Soviet occupation” in the summer of 1940, when they became part of. Today the Baltic countries, which consider themselves victims, are going to assess the damage from the “occupation” and appeal to legal authorities. It is also worth noting that in 2014, Latvia introduced criminal liability for denying or justifying the so-called “Soviet occupation.” This crime is punishable by up to five years in prison. Moscow rejects these claims, as well as the expression “Soviet occupation” itself, and Russian Deputy Prime Minister Dmitry Rogozin commented on this news with an ironic phrase from “The Twelve Chairs.”
« You'll get ears from a dead donkey, you're defective“,” Rogozin responded on his Twitter to the head of the Estonian Ministry of Justice, Urmas Reinsal, who proposed demanding financial compensation or an apology from Russia. Dmitry Rogozin also provided a link to the words of Vladimir Putin in 2005, where he says: “Naturally, there will never be any negotiations on the platform, even a discussion of any territorial claims against us. Pytalovsky district of the Pskov region? The dead donkey is their ears, not the Pytalovo district.”
Video. Putin: It’s their ears from a dead donkey, not the Pytalovsky district
Do you want to get rid of bad habits and start a new life? In this case, you will be interested to know that
DONKEY EARS.
You've probably already forgotten me. I am the same raven who learned to knock on a computer. And he even gave out a few instructive fairy tales. Maybe someone read it, but they scolded me a lot. No, not for the content, but for the unfortunate commas and periods that I can’t get used to. When speaking, people do without punctuation marks, like this. We are crows, we also croak without a colon or a dash, and nothing, we understand each other. But when writing, be sure to give some signs... It’s not about this topic, period. It is necessary, it is necessary. And I will, of course, try to improve my image, I will certainly try..
So here it is. In a beautiful forest reserve in the mountainous part of our region, a large number of animals and birds have found shelter. Living conditions are normal,
the relationships between the inhabitants are natural. Moreover, they live independently, without human intervention. The forester Ignat carefully protects animals from people, both good and bad. In a word, everyone was protected from the sensors and instruments of annoying scientists, so the female bear and the male can retire in the bushes from shameless peeping. In short, love flows normally in animals; you can see it in the offspring.
As for Ignat, he is a conscientious person and protects the reserve from the slightest encroachment around the clock. The area knows about this. He built his own wooden house, where he lives with his hard-working Ekaterina Mikhailovna.
And a little further from the house he built a large, well-kept fence. This is a forest shelter for lonely children, sick or injured animals. Of course, there is a feeding trough, drinking water and Tuzik, a small breed, who keeps order.
Also, grown up and recovered shelters return to the forest, on their own bread, to their families.
It was into this trough that I poured drops of the intelligence stimulant (SI). In a person, only about 10% of the brain’s capabilities work for the thinking part, the remaining 90% goes to control the body’s work, which is why people think so little, they have nothing to do with it. In the animal world, this figure looks even worse. Crows, you want to say, computer science,
that the dog is full of fleas and is now being clever. I have this weakness: I love to teach.
So, our drops of SI on the experimental subjects are reflected in their unexpected actions and behavior. You can verify this by reading Shakhor’s reports, if you are interested.
Today I was interested in the donkey Mag from the nursery. The tiger overtook his mother during childbirth and devoured her. A well-fed predator is disgusted by a slippery living lump,
Apparently, he called, that’s why he remained alive. And then Ignat picked it up. And so he became my test subject. After taking drops of stimulation, our Magician attracted attention with his behavior. For some reason, his ears began to move tensely, his gaze went from carefree-affectionate to sad-concerned. A couple of days later he left the nursery somewhere before dawn. I, of course, followed him unnoticed. After wandering for a long time through dense thickets, our donkey came out to a small shaded ravine, on the edge of which a deer was lying. The deer was breathing heavily, making whistling sounds as it inhaled. His eyes were closed, but when the donkey appeared, he opened them slightly, looked pitifully at the stranger and helplessly closed his eyes again. The magician stood silently for a short time and then continued walking. I'm following him. In an oak grove, a donkey carefully approached a fox lying down with a broken leg. She tried to get up and leave, but fell helplessly. . During the long summer day, the donkey and I also visited several sick forest brothers, but that’s all. They even came close to the sick, elderly lion. He only let out a roar; he didn’t have enough strength for more. I also remember the depressing picture with wild boars. Under a large tree lay a boar, wounded by shot, moaning, and nearby there were piglets in her empty teats,
squealing, poking. With the onset of darkness, the Magician returned home to the reserve, tired and sad. He went up to the old linden tree, lay down on the grass and put his head on his body to sleep. He lowered his long ears low and low. It seemed to me that the donkey was thinking (funny?), it seemed from his eyes.
I also thought for a long time about the actions of the experimental donkey. Why and why did he go to his sick relatives? And also how he figured out their location, using what navigator. I passed out from thoughts and fatigue.
At dawn I saw a sneaking donkey with a bucket in its teeth. He quietly and unnoticeably got out of the nursery and headed towards the lake at a fast trot. Having scooped up some water, he took the handle of the bucket between his teeth and walked slowly so as not to splash out the precious liquid. The boar with many children got water first, then the sick deer got water. A hitch occurred with a jackal cub, which was poisoned by rotten meat. The poor fellow could not lift his head to drink from the bucket. The donkey, in several steps, managed to pour water from his own into the jackal’s mouth. Leo nobly nodded his head as a sign of gratitude to the savior. Yes, the savior, for no one had ever helped the sick and weak inhabitants of the forest when they died of thirst. Well done, donkey.
I myself witnessed how the deer shakily stood up over time, looked around and greedily began to pluck the juicy grass. The boar and her offspring moved to the oak tree, where there were a huge number of acorns. The little jackal had already forgotten about his misfortunes, frolicked with his peers - youth, what can you take from them.
And how is the donkey?, you ask.. Yes, everything was okay with him. He continued to feed the suffering with his hard work, receiving satisfaction from the good services rendered.
The Magician also had enemies. These are birds: vultures, jackals and other predators who want to kill the weak. They began to surreptitiously growl at the donkey and intimidate him with threats. The recovered brothers, thanks to the efforts of the donkey, did not become helpless victims in their teeth. So they got angry.
Even her childhood friend Yala told the Magician that her parents forbid her to communicate with such a good-for-nothing, unpromising person. My parents told me to make more serious choices, and not based on my friend’s crazy actions. The magician hung his head low and was about to leave. But stubborn Yola blocked his path and, looking into his eyes, said that she had made a choice long ago, but did not dare say it. The magician himself could have guessed about her feelings a long time ago....
Enough. It took me a little bit, sorry.
There were often pleasant meetings in the forest. So one day a young jackal jumped out of the dense bushes towards a donkey walking with luggage and, wagging its muzzle, kindly kicked the hero. Nice? Certainly. The deer performed circular races in front of the donkey in the clearing, demonstrating its health. Then he lowered his horns low and disappeared. And many more similar signs of attention were shown to the Serbobolts by his grateful forest brethren.
Good, good, you say. Maybe. But the turn of the bad has come, the sad.
It was a bright day, cloudless, ordinary. Our donkey gave the grumpy wolf something to drink in the morning, having heard enough complaints about his beloved. Doesn't give her any help
Only one is still holding on, it’s torn. He has one thing on his mind. Then the hedgehog gave the prickly one something to drink.
The noble lion seemed to have broken out of the fever; he was already trying to get to his feet, but the poor fellow was terribly emaciated. The magician greeted him in a friendly manner, put the bucket next to him, and moved into the shade. The lion somehow drank convulsively, stood up and pressed the donkey to the ground with his entire body. I only noticed the twitching of the donkey’s legs and heard the squeal of a running flock of jackals.
All. Scenes of violence are not for me. I could not even imagine that the royal beast would stoop to such baseness. Hunger is no big deal and everyone wants to live - these are the subterfuges of scoundrels.
The subject, in short, fell victim to my experiment, believed in goodness, in earthly brotherhood. Of course, the kindness of the Magician was inherent in him by nature, but my drops of intelligence influenced only his auditory capabilities. His hearing became so acute that he began to pick up the pain of his brothers within a large radius. From my point of view, it would not hurt heaven to give such ears to our rulers. Maybe, like a donkey, they would do something for the suffering. A stupid raven's fantasy, right?
A report has been drawn up and another point has been made. Before leaving this forest, I decided to visit these wonderful places once, maybe I’ll see some of my friends and note something else about the donkey.
I sat down on a thick branch of a birch tree that extended its branches over the path of life, observing. The path was so named because you can go down to the lake, to the water. During the day it is almost empty, but at night...... Forgive me, a familiar figure noticed. Well, of course, this is Yala. And how wonderful and cheerful she looks. They also talk about female fidelity. Without a year, a week, like a magician... and she. Look how she preens herself, her mane has flown, everything is blooming. Whoa, whoa.. she ran... To whom, I wonder, did she rush so zealously. Here's the creature. I wonder what mine would do if I died. The same, probably. All the ladies are like this, indiscriminately.....Stop, brothers! Yes, this is our donkey, Magician. And a bucket in your teeth. He is it. True, the donkey’s neck is adorned with a red scar, and the skin on its forehead is torn off. The magician stopped at the meeting, looked affectionately at the lady of his heart and then stood patiently while his Yala licked his wounds with her tongue, in order to speed up healing.
That's it. It turns out that the whole crowd of jackals finished off the lion and freed the donkey. And then Maga Yala and friends of the reserve treated her and put her back on her feet.
My conclusions: 1. Noble origin is not a sign of nobility.
2. Not all ladies are bad.
3. Working hard like a donkey is not an insult.
4 You can conquer the world with goodness. It is a pity that none of the commanders tried to do this. Your SHAHOR
Have you ever thought about why some of us found Safronkov’s speech at the UN so offensive and unacceptable? As they say, the devil is in the details.
The fact is that it sounds rude only to native Russian speakers. After all, he, being a diplomat, addresses himself in his speech on “you”. When translated into English, the phrase will sound simpler: “Look at me! Don’t turn your eyes away.” It doesn't contain anything supernatural. But in Russian I immediately remember “To get dirty in your eyes,” when the Gopniks squeezed you in an alley. That is, the aggressive nature of Safronkov’s actual statement is still incomprehensible to a non-native Russian speaker.
Translation of realities, that is, words and set expressions that cause grinning or indignation among one people or even a social group, and are completely unclear for others, has always presented a difficult task for translators and editors. How to translate them? Wouldn't it come out too rude and vulgar? Wouldn't this distort the meaning? Maybe translate it word for word and then explain it in detail?
Thus, the UN meeting in New York, held on October 12, 1960, went down in history with the famous speech of the First Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee Nikita Khrushchev. Or rather, not the speech itself, but the legend that Khrushchev allegedly promised to show the Americans “Kuzka’s mother” and tapped his shoe on the UN podium. The famous photograph of Khrushchev with a shoe in his hand is nothing more than a photomontage, a fake. But Khrushchev actually uttered the famous phrase about “Kuzka’s mother,” but this happened on July 24, 1959 at the opening of an exhibition in the USSR and, naturally, did not pose any threat.
Translation of not only sayings, but also set expressions and phraseological units is extremely difficult. For example, Russian immigrants often experience difficulties in correctly conveying the meaning of such simple phrases as (You have been through so much, I’m so excited, I’m sorry for you or You poor thing) and so on. It is difficult for people who do not live in the sphere of the English language to imagine what a huge role the expression “don’t be unreasonable” or “I see no logic in it” plays in the lives of people living in the English-speaking world. For us, “don’t be angry” and “you’re not logical” sound more like a search for reconciliation, but in English-speaking countries they sound like an accusation of inadequacy and rudeness. Such a monstrous phrase for us: “Fuck you!” often translated as “what the heck!” or “leave me alone,” but is not a curse word at all.
A separate problem is allusions or wordplay in feature films or literary works. When watching a film in translation, you always feel that you are being deceived, so even films with complex vocabulary I often watch in translation, but with English subtitles. And I constantly feel annoyed, screaming: “But that’s not what he said at all!” That’s not what he meant, it’s clear that the translation is far from making sense!
Now I participate in regular webinars “Dry Grammar, Advanced Course” for those who already understand the difference, have studied English and really want to know it better, so that they can feel free when traveling abroad, communicating with foreigners or watching Hollywood films . I really like the fact that there is nothing superfluous in the program, this allows you to concentrate on the main thing. This is a course created “by our own for our own”; the author has been running a popular entertainment blog for many years.
The webinar format is ideal for the modern pace of life and our busy schedule, and also allows you not to worry if you don’t know the answer to a question asked by the teacher. You learn to enjoy self-development without any stress. You can simply listen to the explanations and answers of others, because no one will call you to the board, so I, in a friendly manner, recommend that you find out how you can learn English with minimal investment of money and time.
Nowadays, not knowing English at all is... the same as being completely deaf in one ear. Because you don’t understand half of the realities, or, even worse, you only think that you understand, but in reality everything is different.
Even if you travel with a guide and translator or read an adapted book, you are missing out on a lot! Therefore, watch films in the original and with subtitles, listen to speeches of politicians and read articles and news mainly in the original language and turn to the original source, otherwise the meaning is distorted, the essence is unclear, and all the mistakes and misconceptions of an incompetent translator become your own.
Searching the Internet yielded very scant information: some houses, a train station, a church built in the 1930s. In general, in the end I went to Pytalovo (a town in the Pskov region) personally, with the goal of either finding something interesting there, or making sure that there was nothing to do there. And now I want to show what I found. Among other things, there is the wooden St. Nicholas Church, unique for Russia, 1929-32. the buildings.
The Pskov region borders Estonia and Latvia, and in 1920-30. these countries belonged, respectively, to two of its regions.
Estonia included Setumaa, or Petserimaa - Pechora region. In addition to the monastery, the district center of the city is interesting, almost entirely formed under the Estonians.
Latvia included the so-called Jaun-Latgale, that is, New Latgale - Pytalovo region. But if Pechory is an ancient city and already quite mature by 1920, then Pytalovo was by that time only a small station village on the Petersburg-Warsaw Railway (transformed from a village in 1871). Before Latvia, there was essentially no history here.
(photo from the Pytalovsky Museum)
In 1925, Pytalovo received the status of a city and the name Jaunlatgale (Novo-Latgalsk), in 1938 it was renamed Abrene, and after the Second World War in 1945 it was included in the Pskov region of the RSFSR with the return of the Russian name. 20 years of being part of another country seems to be the only significant event in the history of this place: Pytalovo cannot be compared even closely with Pechory or Sortavala.
From here.
The wooden stadium is one of the most interesting buildings of Latvian times, but has not survived to this day:
(photo from the Pytalovsky Museum).
The current Pytalovo is a small, small (6.2 thousand inhabitants) town 100 km from Pskov. A commuter train, consisting of a locomotive and three general carriages, runs there twice a day, the journey takes 2 hours, and its final destination is not Pytalovo, but the Skangali station on the border. About halfway between Pskov and Pytalovo there is the ancient town of Ostrov - I also visited it.
General view of the station square. On the left is the station, on the right is the post office.
Pytalovo is a border station, so everything at the station is very strict. People are only allowed onto the platform when the train arrives, and people are carefully monitored. I didn’t dare photograph the station from the tracks (although its façade is more interesting). The architecture is very atypical for Russia - late northern modernism of the 1920s.
Inside there is a small waiting room and all sorts of customs premises. However, besides freight trains, the only trains that cross the border in Pytalovo are St. Petersburg-Riga and St. Petersburg-Vilnius. Nearby is the old station building (visible in the frame with the square) - the brick eclecticism gives away the 1870s, when Pytalovo became a stop station on the St. Petersburg-Warsaw road (the line itself was built in 1851-62, the second in Russia after Nikolaevskaya).
This station is the oldest building in Pytalov. It looks more interesting from the side of the tracks, but I didn’t dare take it out in the open, and the glass of the car was too dirty. Nowadays the old station is used as a customs office.
The street leading from the station towards the border:
The post office building (also Latvian, although it looks like a Stalinist building) is opposite the station. Behind the post office is the bus station, and to the left (if you face the post office) is a taxi rank.
The same from the train window:
Pushkin Street, the best preserved street, begins at the red house. But we will go there a little later, for now we will continue to explore the station square:
Shop of the Turiba society in a constructivist style:
Corner of the station square and Krasnoarmeyskaya street:
The petty-bourgeois-looking house of Zavyalov is there:
In fact, all the old Abrene in Pytalovo is two parallel streets, a train station and a church. Pushkin Street seemed to me more integral and picturesque than Krasnoarmeyskaya. The main part of its development consists of pointed wooden houses characteristic of the Baltics:
Latvia, or a remake?
Apparently, a Latvian building, lined with bricks:
The monument to Soviet soldiers is not devoid of Baltic features - I remembered folklore sculptures and pictures, such a recognizable manner of all three Baltic countries:
The wooden House of Culture was also built during the Latvian period. He is already standing again on Krasnoarmeyskaya:
And behind the house of culture you can see the building that for me justified the trip here - St. Nicholas Church, built in 1928-32 by the architect Vladimir Shervinsky in the style of the Russian North.
Orthodox Church of the 1920s! At the time of my trip (see date of post) I didn’t even know that it had analogues in Russia. Over the following years, I discovered that several dozen churches still managed to be built in Soviet times - most often these were simple self-built buildings on the outskirts. However, the Abrene Church surpasses those in scale and complexity - nevertheless, it was built legally and by an architect well-known in Latvia at that time.
This is how Shervinsky himself described his idea: “...What if I take the churches of the Russian North as an example, the churches that are disappearing there one after another? What if our Latgale is architecturally turned into a small Russian North?” - and it was a beautiful idea. As a result, he built only 10 wooden churches in Latgale, and this one is considered the best.
The unusual shape of the apse, the very picturesque arrangement of the domes on the cardinal points and the roof cavities in the corners:
Above the gate is an icon of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, and for some reason with the sign of two fingers. It is worth remembering that Latgale is one of the main Old Believer “enclaves”, and Shervinsky was not the first who tried to take there the traditions of the Russian North untouched by the “Antichrist”.
As far as I understand, there are analogues of the St. Nicholas Abren Church on the other side of the border. In general, wooden Latgale is a very interesting topic (especially Old Believer churches), which I will definitely devote some time to when I go to Latvia (in the near future, however, this is not expected). It’s good that we have a piece of it, like a piece of wooden Ukraine.
And the local history museum in the church building. Why the Red Army soldiers are depicted in an “Olympic” look is a mystery:
The features of a church can still be discerned in the building. Initially it was topped with a tower:
Photos from the museum (by the way, its full name is the Pytalovo Museum of Friendship of Peoples) will be in another post dedicated to the surroundings of Pytalovo (since a significant part of the exhibition is ethnographic). For a museum founded in 1986 and occupying one room, it’s not bad at all.
A rare unit on the street - it seems to be a steam generator:
Other streets in the former Abren (which can be walked from end to end in 5-7 minutes, and all of Pytalovo, built up mainly with five-story buildings, takes 15-20):
It’s worth saying that Pytalovo is one of the most depressing cities I’ve ever seen. The Pskov region in general among the regions of Russia stands out for its poverty and decline - but Pytalovo is terrifying even after other regional centers of the Pskov region. I don’t remember that in any other city I have seen so many sleeping faces, and the number of women with signs of alcoholism is doubly depressing. I don’t remember anywhere else where I so often saw bruises, hematomas, and knocked out teeth on passers-by. The railway station and customs workers here are almost an elite caste, as unemployment in the city is off the charts. I was scared to walk and take photographs here: I constantly caught myself with either hateful or frightened looks. I was especially afraid that the police would take an interest in me - who would believe that I was a tourist and did not come to cross the border.
Although, I’ll make a reservation especially for those who are offended, of course, not all torturers are lumpens, it’s just that the share of the latter here is inadequately high.
But what is most striking is not even the visible poverty, but the general atmosphere of decline and degradation... Latvians should think about whether they need such an angle?
Photo: Ruslan Kolokolenkov, taken from the group of photo jokes on VKontakte.
I left here with a feeling of relief, and even the Island seemed to me the height of civilization.
Ahead is a story about the surroundings of Pytalovo, then about the town of Ostrov, and finally, some photographs from Pskov, where a very pleasant surprise awaited me.
DONKEY EARS.
You've probably already forgotten me. I am the same raven who learned to knock on a computer. And he even gave out a few instructive fairy tales. Maybe someone read it, but they scolded me a lot. No, not for the content, but for the unfortunate commas and periods that I can’t get used to. When speaking, people do without punctuation marks, like this. We are crows, we also croak without a colon or a dash, and nothing, we understand each other. But when writing, be sure to give some signs... It’s not about this topic, period. It is necessary, it is necessary. And I will, of course, try to improve my image, I will certainly try..
So here it is. In a beautiful forest reserve in the mountainous part of our region, a large number of animals and birds have found shelter. Living conditions are normal,
the relationships between the inhabitants are natural. Moreover, they live independently, without human intervention. The forester Ignat carefully protects animals from people, both good and bad. In a word, everyone was protected from the sensors and instruments of annoying scientists, so the female bear and the male can retire in the bushes from shameless peeping. In short, love flows normally in animals; you can see it in the offspring.
As for Ignat, he is a conscientious person and protects the reserve from the slightest encroachment around the clock. The area knows about this. He built his own wooden house, where he lives with his hard-working Ekaterina Mikhailovna.
And a little further from the house he built a large, well-kept fence. This is a forest shelter for lonely children, sick or injured animals. Of course, there is a feeding trough, drinking water and Tuzik, a small breed, who keeps order.
Also, grown up and recovered shelters return to the forest, on their own bread, to their families.
It was into this trough that I poured drops of the intelligence stimulant (SI). In a person, only about 10% of the brain’s capabilities work for the thinking part, the remaining 90% goes to control the body’s work, which is why people think so little, they have nothing to do with it. In the animal world, this figure looks even worse. Crows, you want to say, computer science,
that the dog is full of fleas and is now being clever. I have this weakness: I love to teach.
So, our drops of SI on the experimental subjects are reflected in their unexpected actions and behavior. You can verify this by reading Shakhor’s reports, if you are interested.
Today I was interested in the donkey Mag from the nursery. The tiger overtook his mother during childbirth and devoured her. A well-fed predator is disgusted by a slippery living lump,
Apparently, he called, that’s why he remained alive. And then Ignat picked it up. And so he became my test subject. After taking drops of stimulation, our Magician attracted attention with his behavior. For some reason, his ears began to move tensely, his gaze went from carefree-affectionate to sad-concerned. A couple of days later he left the nursery somewhere before dawn. I, of course, followed him unnoticed. After wandering for a long time through dense thickets, our donkey came out to a small shaded ravine, on the edge of which a deer was lying. The deer was breathing heavily, making whistling sounds as it inhaled. His eyes were closed, but when the donkey appeared, he opened them slightly, looked pitifully at the stranger and helplessly closed his eyes again. The magician stood silently for a short time and then continued walking. I'm following him. In an oak grove, a donkey carefully approached a fox lying down with a broken leg. She tried to get up and leave, but fell helplessly. . During the long summer day, the donkey and I also visited several sick forest brothers, but that’s all. They even came close to the sick, elderly lion. He only let out a roar; he didn’t have enough strength for more. I also remember the depressing picture with wild boars. Under a large tree lay a boar, wounded by shot, moaning, and nearby there were piglets in her empty teats,
squealing, poking. With the onset of darkness, the Magician returned home to the reserve, tired and sad. He went up to the old linden tree, lay down on the grass and put his head on his body to sleep. He lowered his long ears low and low. It seemed to me that the donkey was thinking (funny?), it seemed from his eyes.
I also thought for a long time about the actions of the experimental donkey. Why and why did he go to his sick relatives? And also how he figured out their location, using what navigator. I passed out from thoughts and fatigue.
At dawn I saw a sneaking donkey with a bucket in its teeth. He quietly and unnoticeably got out of the nursery and headed towards the lake at a fast trot. Having scooped up some water, he took the handle of the bucket between his teeth and walked slowly so as not to splash out the precious liquid. The boar with many children got water first, then the sick deer got water. A hitch occurred with a jackal cub, which was poisoned by rotten meat. The poor fellow could not lift his head to drink from the bucket. The donkey, in several steps, managed to pour water from his own into the jackal’s mouth. Leo nobly nodded his head as a sign of gratitude to the savior. Yes, the savior, for no one had ever helped the sick and weak inhabitants of the forest when they died of thirst. Well done, donkey.
I myself witnessed how the deer shakily stood up over time, looked around and greedily began to pluck the juicy grass. The boar and her offspring moved to the oak tree, where there were a huge number of acorns. The little jackal had already forgotten about his misfortunes, frolicked with his peers - youth, what can you take from them.
And how is the donkey?, you ask.. Yes, everything was okay with him. He continued to feed the suffering with his hard work, receiving satisfaction from the good services rendered.
The Magician also had enemies. These are birds: vultures, jackals and other predators who want to kill the weak. They began to surreptitiously growl at the donkey and intimidate him with threats. The recovered brothers, thanks to the efforts of the donkey, did not become helpless victims in their teeth. So they got angry.
Even her childhood friend Yala told the Magician that her parents forbid her to communicate with such a good-for-nothing, unpromising person. My parents told me to make more serious choices, and not based on my friend’s crazy actions. The magician hung his head low and was about to leave. But stubborn Yola blocked his path and, looking into his eyes, said that she had made a choice long ago, but did not dare say it. The magician himself could have guessed about her feelings a long time ago....
Enough. It took me a little bit, sorry.
There were often pleasant meetings in the forest. So one day a young jackal jumped out of the dense bushes towards a donkey walking with luggage and, wagging its muzzle, kindly kicked the hero. Nice? Certainly. The deer performed circular races in front of the donkey in the clearing, demonstrating its health. Then he lowered his horns low and disappeared. And many more similar signs of attention were shown to the Serbobolts by his grateful forest brethren.
Good, good, you say. Maybe. But the turn of the bad has come, the sad.
It was a bright day, cloudless, ordinary. Our donkey gave the grumpy wolf something to drink in the morning, having heard enough complaints about his beloved. Doesn't give her any help
Only one is still holding on, it’s torn. He has one thing on his mind. Then the hedgehog gave the prickly one something to drink.
The noble lion seemed to have broken out of the fever; he was already trying to get to his feet, but the poor fellow was terribly emaciated. The magician greeted him in a friendly manner, put the bucket next to him, and moved into the shade. The lion somehow drank convulsively, stood up and pressed the donkey to the ground with his entire body. I only noticed the twitching of the donkey’s legs and heard the squeal of a running flock of jackals.
All. Scenes of violence are not for me. I could not even imagine that the royal beast would stoop to such baseness. Hunger is no big deal and everyone wants to live - these are the subterfuges of scoundrels.
The subject, in short, fell victim to my experiment, believed in goodness, in earthly brotherhood. Of course, the kindness of the Magician was inherent in him by nature, but my drops of intelligence influenced only his auditory capabilities. His hearing became so acute that he began to pick up the pain of his brothers within a large radius. From my point of view, it would not hurt heaven to give such ears to our rulers. Maybe, like a donkey, they would do something for the suffering. A stupid raven's fantasy, right?
A report has been drawn up and another point has been made. Before leaving this forest, I decided to visit these wonderful places once, maybe I’ll see some of my friends and note something else about the donkey.
I sat down on a thick branch of a birch tree that extended its branches over the path of life, observing. The path was so named because you can go down to the lake, to the water. During the day it is almost empty, but at night...... Forgive me, a familiar figure noticed. Well, of course, this is Yala. And how wonderful and cheerful she looks. They also talk about female fidelity. Without a year, a week, like a magician... and she. Look how she preens herself, her mane has flown, everything is blooming. Whoa, whoa.. she ran... To whom, I wonder, did she rush so zealously. Here's the creature. I wonder what mine would do if I died. The same, probably. All the ladies are like this, indiscriminately.....Stop, brothers! Yes, this is our donkey, Magician. And a bucket in your teeth. He is it. True, the donkey’s neck is adorned with a red scar, and the skin on its forehead is torn off. The magician stopped at the meeting, looked affectionately at the lady of his heart and then stood patiently while his Yala licked his wounds with her tongue, in order to speed up healing.
That's it. It turns out that the whole crowd of jackals finished off the lion and freed the donkey. And then Maga Yala and friends of the reserve treated her and put her back on her feet.
My conclusions: 1. Noble origin is not a sign of nobility.
2. Not all ladies are bad.
3. Working hard like a donkey is not an insult.
4 You can conquer the world with goodness. It is a pity that none of the commanders tried to do this. Your SHAHOR
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