It was beautiful in the country!

It was beautiful in the country!

The golden wheat rolled in waves. The grass was green,

the hay was put to the millstone, the sun shone.

In the shade of the reeds, alone at the bottom of the garden,

a duck sat on her nest.

She was sad and very tired of sitting.

All of a sudden the eggshells gaily burst one by one.

All the little ones saw the day.

"What a grand world!"

Of all the brood, one alone was ugly,

without feathers, his feet too long.

"What a horror, a true turkey!"

cried all the gossiping ducks.

All the little ones reached the farmyard.

"Children, hold your feet well apart.

Say hello to the old duck.

She is Spanish!

Do you see that red scarf around her foot?

It is a distinction very rare among the ducks."

The little ones bowed before her.

Soon they knew all the customs of the farmyard.

Sad and all alone

lived the featherless ugly duckling.

His fate was terrible. He knew nothing but hatred.

Everyone wished him to be eaten by the cat.

He was pecked at by the rooster

and by the guinea-fowl. They found him much too ugly.

The turkey, turning red, clucking and inflating himself

like a sail, attacked the little weak and trembling one.

Then the duckling, by flapping his wings, got over the wall of the yard and flew away.

Birds quickly flew away when he approached.

The poor little one thought, "It's because I am ugly that they fly away when I arrive."

He closed his eyes and painfully made his way to a deep pond.

There, to his surprise, he saw wild ducks.

"What is this monster??"

The poor little duck hung his head, all a-tremble.

"You are very grotesque!!"

The poor one made deep bows.

"Don't you dream of marrying one of us!!"

Oh, he was far from dreaming of marriage.

It was the beginning of his sad adventures.

During the autumn months he endured nothing but harm and suffering.

He spent the days trembling in the reeds, ravaged by anguish,

dying of terror,

while hunters shot without stopping, close to the gloomy lake.

Then an enormous dog hurled himself at the duck, wanting to eat him.

The weather became much colder. Little by little the ice covered the waters of the lake.

The duckling had to swim constantly to keep a corner open.

And he experienced other sufferings, other miseries,

during the terrible icy winter.

The clear sun finally regained its strength; nature was revived.

The birds sang and the air was clear. Oh, beautiful springtime!

The duck happily beat his wings,

which felt bigger and stronger.

He flew into space

and landed in a flowering garden.

The park was beautiful!

Suddenly, gliding over the water appeared

three swans, beautiful and graceful.

A strong force attracted him against his will to the proud and noble birds.

Yet if he approached them certainly he would be killed,

because wasn't he truly a monster?

Better to be killed by these beautiful swans,

than to endure again the misfortunes he suffered through the winter.

"All right, kill me!" he said quietly,

and resignedly lowered his head waiting for death.

In the dazzling clear water, he saw his reflection. What joy!

He was no longer a bird without feathers,

but a swan, beautiful and proud.

It is possible to be born in the nest of a duck

as long as the egg is that of a swan!

In the rays of the sun the waters of the lake rocked him,

and tenderly the beautiful swans embraced him.

Could he ever have had such a beautiful dream

when he was a bird without feathers?!