English version (excerpt)
HE WHO SAILS BOATS
He who Sails Boats was a staid dwarf. He enjoyed peace. And his peace had just been taken away from him. And it happened because He who Sails Boats had fallen in love. Falling in love always takes your peace away, but falling in love with an unattainable fairy-tale character takes it away completely. And he had fallen in love with a fairy-tale character. In a princess. He knew that the princess was unattainable for him as he was a wise dwarf, and besides many other dwarves had told him so. However, he would answer that if love was about attainability then everybody should have fallen in love with themselves, because everybody is just the easiest attainable person for oneself. And if it was not the case then the conclusion was simple – being in love is about something different, thus he would continue being in love with a princess and it shouldn’t be anybody’s business.
It sounded very definitely, convincingly and reasonably. One could think that He who Sails Boats experienced his being in love very calmly. But these were just appearances. He couldn’t sleep at all. Days and nights he would come at the river, under the castle where the princess lived and would try to see her through narrow windows of the castle. It sometimes seemed to him that the princess was looking at him, but it must have been just an illusion. Would a real princess take note of a simple dwarf, just like this?
He who Sails Boats could not reach the castle. Were he a fish, he could have swum the river, and were he a fly, he could have clambered the wall of the castle to get to princess’s chamber. He was neither a fish nor a fly, though, but a dwarf. Maybe even better, as it’s hard to imagine that any princess would fall in love in a fish or a fly one day. Even in spite of this hopeless situation he had more chances being a dwarf.
One moon-lit night (or maybe it was a sunny day?) he felt he couldn’t stand it anymore and that he had to do something at last. He wrote the most beautiful love poem ever written under the sun shining over the land of dwarves and princesses. But once he finished it he realized that the princess would never read it and he felt awfully sad. He walked down to the river and when he was staring at the water he saw a floating leaf. This gave him an idea. How strange that he had never thought about it before.
The first little boat which he made out of a piece of paper with the poem written on it was slightly crooked, but every next one looked better and better. He who Sails Boats persevered.
He would write subsequent pages down with his unmatched poem, fold them carefully forming little boats and sail them to the water. Something told him that the power of his love would carry them though waves, and even rise them into the air – to the princess. If – He who Sails Boats thought – love would not be able to overcome such trifling obstacles as water and air then what sort of love would that be?
Where the Cat came from - nobody knows. Some said, that he once was one of Dwarves in Big Hats. Others – that he was just about to become one. Some more said that he used to live in one of books read by the Willowman, but then he grew, could not fit in there any more and got out of the book. The Cat did not care at all about what they would say about him. He just was there. And apparently it was all he needed.
The Invisibler was probably the most famous of all Dwarves with Big Hats. He was loved by crowds. Reciprocally. He would get recognised from afar. He was asked for autographs. They would take pictures with him. The Invisibler was truly happy about all this. He believed that the more dwarves recognized him and showed their love (or at least liking) for him, the more he, the Invisibler, was PRESENT. So he would give away autographs, pose to pictures, he would accept invitations to newer and newer meetings. As he was a popular person he was asked many questions and would answer them all willingly. Sometimes he himself felt surprised that he was experienced about so many things. In winter he was asked when spring would come, and in summer when rain would fall down. He was asked where a new bridge should be built and where a big shop, what hats would be trendy in the upcoming season, and what is really life about; he was asked what to do not to burn a cake and who was the best poet of all dwarves; he was asked what was the most beautiful place in our country and why it was once believed that these were storks who brought human babies; what do they make the blue moon out of and how come that trains go and airplanes fly, and not the other way round… The Invisibler would smile, adjust his Big Hat and answer, answer and answer. But it was all a long time ago. A very long time ago. It was when he hadn’t been the Invisibler yet. Because one day the Invisibler started to wonder. Not over the new trends in hats in the upcoming season, not even over the question who was the best poet of all dwarves. He started to wonder what really the life was about. And he thought that maybe it wasn’t at all about all this that he had been doing recently. He slowed down. To all questions he stared to answer with a smile, and after some time they stopped asking him questions at all. Less and less dwarves asked for his autograph. He had more and more time to spend sitting on his favourite bench watching pigeons and nobody would accost him.
One day – he wouldn’t even remember when – he noticed that he became invisible. He wasn’t really sure what was the cause and what was the reason, but his life stopped running by like a blink of eye. It stared to pass, or rather walk – leisurely to the rhythm marked out with moms walking with prams and elder gentlemen, helping themselves in walking with their canes.
The Invisibler would politely give them up his place on his favourite bench. Sometimes he would make crying babies laugh (because only the youngest children could see him in some mysterious way). Sometimes he would hold a newspaper which wind tried to sweep away from an elder man. He felt good with this, although nobody would recognise him anymore or nobody even knew he was just nearby. He looked at the theatre, at the fountain, pigeons and people enjoying almost invisible trivial things and thought to himself that who knows if the life isn’t exactly about all this…
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