Little Songs
He was quite a rake in appearance—he loafed about in the streets and in the roads, sat for hours in the taverns and looked on at the jolly wenches; nothing was sacred to him, and because of that he received very little respect.
Only sometimes he walked out to the crossroads, and began to sing; he knew such words that everything answered him at that moment—the birds in the woods, and the wind in the fields, and the waves in the sea.
The little dog, Sillybark, said:
“It’s bad, bad! It’s all nonsense.”
And the cunning fox said:
“Bad, bad! He sings only earthly songs, he has forgotten God.”
What did it matter? Everything living answered him: the birds of the woods, the waves of the sea, and the roving winds.