Naughty children fairy tale

Once upon a time there was an old poet—a very kind old poet. One night, as he was sitting at home, there was a terrible storm outside. The rain was pouring; but the old poet sat by the fire, warm and comfortable. The fire was burning brightly and the apples were sizzling. "In this kind of weather, the poor people outside may not have a single thread dry on their bodies." He said, because he is an old poet with a very kind heart. "Ah, please open the door! I'm very cold and my clothes are all soaked." A child shouted outside. He began to cry and knocked on the door. At this time, the rain was pouring down, and the wind blew all the windows.

"You poor little guy!" said the old poet; he walked over and opened the door. There was a little child standing at the door. He was completely naked, and the rain rolled down his long blond hair. He was shivering with cold; had he not walked in, he would have frozen to death in such a storm.

"You poor little fellow!" said the old poet, holding his hand.

"Come to me and I can warm you up. I can give you a little wine and an apple, for you are a beautiful child."

He It is indeed beautiful. His eyes were as bright as two bright stars, and although his blond hair was dripping with water, it was curly and very beautiful. He looked like a little angel, but he was pale with the cold and trembling all over. He held a beautiful bow in his hand, but the rain had damaged it. The colors painted on those beautiful arrows were all blurred by the rain.

The old poet sat by the fireside, took the little boy on his knees, squeezed the rain out of his curls, put his hands in his own to warm them, and warmed him at the same time. Had some liqueur. The kid recovered right away. His cheeks also became rosy. He jumped to the ground and danced around the old poet.

"You are a happy child!" said the old poet. "What's your name?"

"My name is Amul," he replied; "Don't you know me? My bow is right here. You know, this is the bow I use to shoot arrows. ! Look, it's sunny outside and the moon is out. "But your bow is broken," said the old poet. "It's a pity," replied the child, picking up the bow and looking at it. "Hey, it's still dry and not damaged. The string is still tight - I'd like to give it a try!" So he drew the bow, inserted an arrow, aimed at the target, and shot shot into the heart of a kind old poet. "Please see now whether my bow is damaged or not!" he said, laughed loudly, and ran away.

How naughty this kid must be! He actually shot an arrow at the old poet, and the old poet invited him into a warm room, was very kind to him, and gave him the best wine to drink and the best apples to eat!