Fairy tale by H. H. Andersen (1857)
In a narrow, crooked alley, in a row of other miserable houses, stood a narrow, high house, half stone, half wooden, ready to crawl out from all over. Poor people lived in it; especially poor, miserable conditions were in the closet, huddled under the very roof. Outside the closet window hung an old cage, which did not even have a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and turned down with a stoppered end. An old girl was standing at the open window and treating the linnet plant with fresh wood lice, while the bird jumped merrily from perch to perch and sang a song.

"You sing well!" - said the bottle neck, of course, not in the way we speak, - the bottle neck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes mentally speak to themselves. “Yes, you sing well! You must have all the bones! But if you tried to lose, like me, your entire body, to remain with one neck and a mouth, moreover, plugged with a cork, I suppose you would not sing! However, it's good that at least someone can have fun! I have nothing to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing today! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, and I sang, if they drove a wet cork over me. I was even called once a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier's daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it was yesterday! I experienced a lot, as I think, I went through fire and water, I visited both under the earth and in the skies, not like others! And now I am again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”

And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it over to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in the cage. Below, along the street, people were walking and riding, each thinking his own or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!

It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled off and became quite reconciled to her new position. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them! They all came from the same oven, but some were for champagne, others for beer, and that's the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but nevertheless, the natural purpose of each is immediately given out by its style - a noble will remain noble even with wax inside!

All bottles were packed; our bottle too; then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in fact, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and rinsed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she herself did not know what. But here it was poured with wonderful wine, corked and sealed with sealing wax, and a label was pasted on the side: “First grade”. The bottle looks like it got a perfect mark on an exam; but the wine was really good, the bottle too. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about such things that she herself had no idea about: green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and guys that they gather grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the soul of young poets - they also often do not know what they are singing about.

One morning they bought a bottle - a furrier's boy came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything into the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her hands were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately obvious that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been betrothed!

The whole family went to the forest; a girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbour, the painter, the friend of the beauty's childhood games, who was sitting next to her. He had just brilliantly passed his exam, and the next day he was already supposed to sail on a ship to foreign countries. This was talked about a lot during the preparations for the forest, and at that moment no special joy was noticed in the look and expression of the face of the pretty daughter of the furrier.

Young people went to wander through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle had not heard of this: after all, she remained in the basket and even managed to get bored standing there. But at last they dragged her out, and she immediately saw that things had taken the most cheerful turn during this time: everyone's eyes were laughing, the furrier's daughter smiled, but somehow spoke less than before, her cheeks were still blooming with roses.

Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew ... And you feel a strange sensation when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork seemed to be knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped from it, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: clew-clew-cleck!

- To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beauty of the bride.

- God bless you! added the old men. The young sailor refilled his glasses and exclaimed:

- For my return home and our wedding exactly one year later! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You were a witness to the most beautiful moments of my life, so don't serve anyone else!

It never occurred to the furrier's daughter then that she would see the same bottle again someday high, high in the air, but she had to.

The bottle fell into thick reeds that grew along the banks of a small forest lake. The bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bridegroom, or the bride, or the happy old men, but for a long time she heard their cheerful jubilation and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw a bottle and took it - now it was attached.

The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their older brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was bustling about, putting into his chest this and that, which he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city in order to say goodbye to his son again and convey his mother's blessing to him. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than a small one. Much more tincture could have entered into it, but the tincture was very good and even healing - useful for the stomach. So, the bottle was no longer filled with red wine, but with bitter tincture, but this is also good - for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had, he would not have recognized it; it would never have occurred to him that this was the same one they drank from in the woods to celebrate his engagement and his happy return home.

True, there was no more wine in the bottle, but something no worse, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy”, as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that worked so well on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties right down to its last drop. It was fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was driven over it, and for this it was nicknamed the "big lark" or "Peter Jensen's lark."

It's been a long time; the bottle had long stood empty in the corner; suddenly trouble struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or already on the way back - the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and a leak, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled up the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, corked it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. He did not know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swaying, swam along the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.

The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back then. She experienced both calm and new storms, but did not break on the rocks, did not fall into the jaws of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves to and fro; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that can get boring.

A scribbled piece of paper, the last forgiveness of the groom to the bride, would bring with it one grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy day of the engagement? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the very birthplace of the bottle? Which country was she now approaching? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed along the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. Rushing on the waves was not at all her business, and yet she rushed, until at last she sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was said around her: they spoke in some foreign, unfamiliar language, and not in the one she was used to in her homeland; not to understand the language spoken around is a great loss!

They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out a note, twirled it this way and that, but did not make it apart, although they understood that the bottle had been thrown from the sinking ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that's the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large cupboard in the big room of the big house.

Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, twirled and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and completely erased in the end - no one would now say what was on this piece of paper when something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days when they poured red wine from her in the green forest, when she rocked on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, the last forgive! ..

She stood in the attic for twenty whole years; would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. The roof was removed, they saw the bottle and started talking, but she still did not understand a word - after all, you can’t learn the language by standing in the attic, stand there for at least twenty years! “Now, if I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”

The bottle was washed and rinsed, which she needed so much. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if rejuvenated again; but the note that she carried inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.

The bottle was filled with some unfamiliar seeds; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you must see something when you travel,” thought the bottle, but still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off on her journey and arrived where she was supposed to. Here it is unpacked.

- They really tried something there, abroad! Look, how they packed it, and yet it, perhaps, cracked! - I heard the bottle, but it turned out that it did not crack.

The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the melting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, at home! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely paid attention to the fact that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But the house is good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the eye had stood there, and yet she had stood for more than a year! But here again people came and took all the bottles that were in the basement, including ours.

The garden was splendidly decorated; garlands of multicolored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns shone like transparent tulips. The evening was wonderful, the weather clear and calm. Stars and a young moon shone in the sky; however, not only the golden crescent-shaped edge of it was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. Illumination was also arranged in the side alleys, although not as brilliant as in the main ones, but quite sufficient so that people would not stumble in the dark. Here, between the bushes, bottles were placed with lighted candles stuck in them; here was our bottle, which was destined in the end to serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in awe; she again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, there was singing and music, laughter and talk of the crowd, especially dense where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, it is true, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - she served both for beauty and for good, and this is the whole point. At such moments you will forget even twenty years spent in the attic - what better!

A couple walked arm in arm past the bottle, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier's daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed to be transported into the past. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that merry walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you will not forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn't recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn't recognize her either. This happens all the time in the world: old acquaintances meet and part, not recognizing each other, until a new meeting.

And a new meeting with an old acquaintance was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!

From the garden the bottle went to a vintner, was refilled with wine and sold to an aeronaut who was to go up in a balloon the following Sunday. A large audience gathered, a brass band played; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from a basket where it lay next to a live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be parachuted down from a height! The bottle did not know whether they would fly up or down; she only saw that the balloon inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally, they were cut, and the balloon soared into the air, along with the balloonist, the basket, the bottle, and the rabbit. The music blared and the people cheered.

“But it’s somehow strange to fly through the air! thought the bottle. - Here's a new way to swim! Here at least you won’t run into a stone!”

A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; the old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with linnet, which, instead of a glass, also cost a tea cup. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl pushed it aside so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished the balloon in the sky and the balloonist, who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from the bottle to the health of the inhabitants and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé threw high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!

The bottle had no time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny! ..

And so she began to fall down, and much faster than a rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her like that, but not for long - poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; soon disappeared from the eyes of the audience and the bottle. She fell on the roof and broke. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and jumped on the roof until they found themselves in the courtyard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It's like being cut with a diamond!

“Here’s a nice cup for the bird!” - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself did not have a bird or a cage, and to acquire them just because he got a bottle neck suitable for a glass would be too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic, it could come in handy, and the bottleneck got to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - poured fresh water into it and hung it up to a cage in which linnet was poured.

- Yes, you sing well! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a balloon! The rest of his life was not known to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the chatter of the crowd could be heard from the street, and the voice of the old girl from the closet. An old friend of her age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about a bottle neck, but about a myrtle tree that stood on the window.

“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” the old girl said. - Take my myrtle! You see, how wonderful, all in flowers! It grew out of the offspring of that myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never waited for this day! Closed those eyes that should have been shining on me for joy and happiness all my life! At the bottom of the sea, my dear fiance sleeps!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry up, I took the last fresh branch from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally get to the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!

Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember a friend of her youth, an engagement in the forest, a toast to their health, she thought of the first kiss ... but she did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there is another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such noise when they drank to the health of the betrothed. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she told, but mainly because it thought only of itself.

G. H. Andersen

BOTTLENECK

In a narrow, crooked alley, in a row of other miserable houses, stood a narrow, high house, half stone, half wooden, ready to crawl out from all over. Poor people lived in it; especially poor, miserable conditions were in the closet, huddled under the very roof. Outside the closet window hung an old cage, which did not even have a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and turned down with a stoppered end. An old girl was standing at the open window and treating the linnet plant with fresh wood lice, while the bird jumped merrily from perch to perch and sang a song.

"You sing well!" - said the bottle neck, of course, not in the way we speak, - the bottle neck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes mentally speak to themselves. “Yes, you sing well! You must have all the bones! But if you tried to lose, like me, your entire body, to remain with one neck and a mouth, moreover, plugged with a cork, I suppose you would not sing! However, it's good that at least someone can have fun! I have nothing to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing today! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, and I sang, if they drove a wet cork over me. I was even called once a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier's daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it was yesterday! I experienced a lot, as I think, I went through fire and water, I visited both under the earth and in the skies, not like others! And now I am again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”

And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it over to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in the cage. Below, along the street, people were walking and riding, each thinking his own or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!

It remembered the fiery furnace in the glassworks where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back and forth. But little by little she cooled off and became quite reconciled to her new position. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them! They all came from the same oven, but some were for champagne, others for beer, and that's the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but nevertheless, the natural purpose of each is immediately given out by its style - a noble will remain noble even with wax inside!

All bottles were packed; our bottle too; then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in fact, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and rinsed - that was a strange feeling! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she herself did not know what. But here it was poured with wonderful wine, corked and sealed with sealing wax, and a label was pasted on the side: “First grade”. The bottle looks like it got a perfect mark on an exam; but the wine was really good, the bottle too. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about such things that she herself had no idea about: green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and guys that they gather grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the soul of young poets - they also often do not know what they are singing about.

One morning they bought a bottle - a furrier's boy came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything into the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her hands were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately obvious that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been betrothed!

The whole family went to the forest; a girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbour, the painter, the friend of the beauty's childhood games, who was sitting next to her. He had just brilliantly passed his exam, and the next day he was already supposed to sail on a ship to foreign countries. This was talked about a lot during the preparations for the forest, and at that moment no special joy was noticed in the look and expression of the face of the pretty daughter of the furrier.

Young people went to wander through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle had not heard of this: after all, she remained in the basket and even managed to get bored standing there. But at last they dragged her out, and she immediately saw that things had taken the most cheerful turn during this time: everyone's eyes were laughing, the furrier's daughter smiled, but somehow spoke less than before, her cheeks were still blooming with roses.

Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew ... And you feel a strange sensation when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork seemed to be knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped from it, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: clew-clew-cleck!

To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beauty of the bride.

God bless you! added the old men. The young sailor refilled his glasses and exclaimed:

For my return home and our wedding exactly one year later! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You were a witness to the most beautiful moments of my life, so don't serve anyone else!

It never occurred to the furrier's daughter then that she would see the same bottle again someday high, high in the air, but she had to.

The bottle fell into thick reeds that grew along the banks of a small forest lake. The bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bridegroom, or the bride, or the happy old men, but for a long time she heard their cheerful jubilation and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw a bottle and took it - now it was attached.

In a narrow, crooked alley, in a row of other miserable houses, stood a narrow, high house, half stone, half wooden, ready to crawl out from all over. Poor people lived in it; especially poor, miserable conditions were in the closet, huddled under the very roof. Outside the closet window hung an old cage, which did not even have a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and turned down with a stoppered end. An old girl was standing at the open window and treating the linnet plant with fresh wood lice, while the bird jumped merrily from perch to perch and sang a song.

"You sing well!" - said the bottle neck, of course, not in the way we speak, - the bottle neck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes mentally speak to themselves. “Yes, you sing well! You must have all the bones! But if you tried to lose, like me, your entire body, to remain with one neck and a mouth, moreover, plugged with a cork, I suppose you would not sing! However, it's good that at least someone can have fun! I have nothing to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing today! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, and I sang, if they drove a wet cork over me. I was even called once a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier's daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it was yesterday! I experienced a lot, as I think, I went through fire and water, I visited both under the earth and in the skies, not like others! And now I am again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”

And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it over to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in the cage. Below, along the street, people were walking and riding, each thinking his own or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!

It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled off and became quite reconciled to her new position. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them! They all came from the same oven, but some were for champagne, others for beer, and that's the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but nevertheless, the natural purpose of each is immediately given out by its style - a noble will remain noble even with wax inside!

All bottles were packed; our bottle too; then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in fact, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and rinsed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she herself did not know what. But here it was poured with wonderful wine, corked and sealed with sealing wax, and a label was pasted on the side: “First grade”. The bottle looks like it got a perfect mark on an exam; but the wine was really good, the bottle too. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and guys that they gather grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the soul of young poets - they also often do not know what they are singing about.

One morning they bought a bottle - a furrier's boy came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything into the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her hands were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately obvious that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been betrothed!

The whole family went to the forest; a girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbour, the painter, the friend of the beauty's childhood games, who was sitting next to her. He had just brilliantly passed his exam, and the next day he was already supposed to sail on a ship to foreign countries. This was talked about a lot during the preparations for the forest, and at that moment no special joy was noticed in the look and expression of the face of the pretty daughter of the furrier.

Young people went to wander through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle had not heard of this: after all, she remained in the basket and even managed to get bored standing there. But at last they dragged her out, and she immediately saw that things had taken the most cheerful turn during this time: everyone's eyes were laughing, the furrier's daughter smiled, but somehow spoke less than before, her cheeks were still blooming with roses.

Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew ... And you feel a strange sensation when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork seemed to be knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped from it, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: clew-clew-cleck!

- To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beauty of the bride.

- God bless you! added the old men. The young sailor refilled his glasses and exclaimed:

- For my return home and our wedding exactly one year later! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You were a witness to the most beautiful moments of my life, so don't serve anyone else!

It never occurred to the furrier's daughter then that she would see the same bottle again someday high, high in the air, but she had to.

The bottle fell into thick reeds that grew along the banks of a small forest lake. The bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bridegroom, or the bride, or the happy old men, but for a long time she heard their cheerful jubilation and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw a bottle and took it - now it was attached.

The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their older brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was bustling about, putting into his chest this and that, which he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city in order to say goodbye to his son again and convey his mother's blessing to him. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than a small one. Much more tincture could have entered into it, but the tincture was very good and even healing - useful for the stomach. So, the bottle was no longer filled with red wine, but with bitter tincture, but this is also good - for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had, he would not have recognized it; it would never have occurred to him that this was the same one they drank from in the woods to celebrate his engagement and his happy return home.

True, there was no more wine in the bottle, but something no worse, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy”, as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that worked so well on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties right down to its last drop. It was fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was driven over it, and for this it was nicknamed the "big lark" or "Peter Jensen's lark."

It's been a long time; the bottle had long stood empty in the corner; suddenly trouble struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or already on the way back - the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and a leak, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled up the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, corked it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. He did not know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swaying, swam along the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.

The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back then. She experienced both calm and new storms, but did not break on the rocks, did not fall into the jaws of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves to and fro; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that can get boring.

A scribbled piece of paper, the last forgiveness of the groom to the bride, would bring with it one grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy day of the engagement? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the very birthplace of the bottle? Which country was she now approaching? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed along the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. Rushing on the waves was not at all her business, and yet she rushed, until at last she sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was said around her: they spoke in some foreign, unfamiliar language, and not in the one she was used to in her homeland; not to understand the language spoken around is a great loss!

They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out a note, twirled it this way and that, but did not make it apart, although they understood that the bottle had been thrown from the sinking ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that's the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large cupboard in the big room of the big house.

Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, twirled and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and completely erased in the end - no one would now say what was on this piece of paper when something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days when they poured red wine from her in the green forest, when she rocked on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, the last forgive! ..

She stood in the attic for twenty whole years; would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. The roof was removed, they saw the bottle and started talking, but she still did not understand a word - after all, you can’t learn the language by standing in the attic, stand there for at least twenty years! “Now, if I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”

The bottle was washed and rinsed, which she needed so much. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if rejuvenated again; but the note that she carried inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.

The bottle was filled with some unfamiliar seeds; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you must see something when you travel,” thought the bottle, but still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off on her journey and arrived where she was supposed to. Here it is unpacked.

- They really tried something there, abroad! Look, how they packed it, and yet it, perhaps, cracked! - I heard the bottle, but it turned out that it did not crack.

The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the melting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, at home! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely paid attention to the fact that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But the house is good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the eye had stood there, and yet she had stood for more than a year! But here again people came and took all the bottles that were in the basement, including ours.

The garden was splendidly decorated; garlands of multicolored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns shone like transparent tulips. The evening was wonderful, the weather clear and calm. Stars and a young moon shone in the sky; however, not only the golden crescent-shaped edge of it was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. Illumination was also arranged in the side alleys, although not as brilliant as in the main ones, but quite sufficient so that people would not stumble in the dark. Here, between the bushes, bottles were placed with lighted candles stuck in them; here was our bottle, which was destined in the end to serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in awe; she again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, there was singing and music, laughter and talk of the crowd, especially dense where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, it is true, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - she served both for beauty and for good, and this is the whole point. At such moments you will forget even twenty years spent in the attic - what better!

A couple walked arm in arm past the bottle, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier's daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed to be transported into the past. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that merry walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you will not forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn't recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn't recognize her either. This happens all the time in the world: old acquaintances meet and part, not recognizing each other, until a new meeting.

And a new meeting with an old acquaintance was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!

From the garden the bottle went to a vintner, was refilled with wine and sold to an aeronaut who was to go up in a balloon the following Sunday. A large audience gathered, a brass band played; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from a basket where it lay next to a live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be parachuted down from a height! The bottle did not know whether they would fly up or down; she only saw that the balloon inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally, they were cut, and the balloon soared into the air, along with the balloonist, the basket, the bottle, and the rabbit. The music blared and the people cheered.

“But it’s somehow strange to fly through the air! thought the bottle. - Here's a new way to swim! Here at least you won’t run into a stone!”

A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; the old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with linnet, which, instead of a glass, also cost a tea cup. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl pushed it aside so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished the balloon in the sky and the balloonist, who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from the bottle to the health of the inhabitants and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé threw high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!

The bottle had no time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny! ..

And so she began to fall down, and much faster than a rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her like that, but not for long - poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; soon disappeared from the eyes of the audience and the bottle. She fell on the roof and broke. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and jumped on the roof until they found themselves in the courtyard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It's like being cut with a diamond!

“Here’s a nice cup for the bird!” - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself did not have a bird or a cage, and to acquire them just because he got a bottle neck suitable for a glass would be too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic, it could come in handy, and the bottleneck got to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - poured fresh water into it and hung it up to a cage in which linnet was poured.

- Yes, you sing well! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a balloon! The rest of his life was not known to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the chatter of the crowd could be heard from the street, and the voice of the old girl from the closet. An old friend of her age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about a bottle neck, but about a myrtle tree that stood on the window.

“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” the old girl said. - Take my myrtle! You see, how wonderful, all in flowers! It grew out of the offspring of that myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never waited for this day! Closed those eyes that should have been shining on me for joy and happiness all my life! At the bottom of the sea, my dear fiance sleeps!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry up, I took the last fresh branch from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally get to the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!

Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember a friend of her youth, an engagement in the forest, a toast to their health, she thought of the first kiss ... but did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there is another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such noise when they drank to the health of the betrothed. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she told, but mainly because it thought only of itself.

Information for parents: The Bottleneck is a fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen. It tells about the adventures of a bottle, now only the neck is left of it, but before it was a real bottle of wine! The tale is instructive, has a fascinating plot and will be of interest to children from 5 to 8 years old. The text of the fairy tale "The Bottleneck" is written clearly and excitingly. Happy reading to you and your kids.

Read the story Bottleneck

In a narrow, crooked alley, in a row of other miserable houses, stood a narrow, high house, half stone, half wooden, ready to crawl out from all over. Poor people lived in it; especially poor, miserable conditions were in the closet, huddled under the very roof. Outside the closet window hung an old cage, which did not even have a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and turned down with a stoppered end. An old girl was standing at the open window and treating the linnet plant to fresh wood lice, while the bird merrily jumped from perch to perch and sang a song.

"You sing well!" - said the bottle neck, of course, not in the way we speak, - the bottle neck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes mentally speak to themselves. “Yes, you sing well! You must have all the bones! But if you tried to lose, like me, your entire body, to remain with one neck and a mouth, moreover, plugged with a cork, I suppose you would not sing! However, it's good that at least someone can have fun! I have nothing to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing today! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, and I sang, if they drove a wet cork over me. I was even called once a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier's daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it was yesterday! I experienced a lot, as I think, I went through fire and water, visited both underground and in the sky, not like others! And now I am again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t say it out loud, and I can’t.”

And the bottleneck told it to himself, or rather, thought it over to himself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in the cage. Below, along the street, people were walking and riding, each thinking his own or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!

It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled down and became quite reconciled to her new position. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them! They all came from the same oven, but some were for champagne, others for beer, and that's the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but nevertheless, the natural purpose of each is immediately given out by its style - a noble will remain noble even with wax inside!

All bottles were packed; our bottle too; then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in fact, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and rinsed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she herself did not know what. But here it was poured with wonderful wine, corked and sealed with sealing wax, and a label was pasted on the side: “First grade”. The bottle looks like it got a perfect mark on an exam; but the wine was really good, the bottle too. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about things that she herself had no idea about: about green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and guys, that they gather grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the soul of young poets - they also often do not know what they are singing about.

One morning they bought a bottle - a furrier's boy came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything into the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; her black eyes were laughing, a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her hands were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately obvious that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been married!

The whole family went to the forest; a girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from under the white tablecloth that covered the basket. The red wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbour, the painter, the friend of the beauty's childhood games, who was sitting next to her. He had just brilliantly passed his exam, and the next day he was already supposed to sail on a ship to foreign countries. This was talked about a lot during the preparations for the forest, and at that moment there was no particular joy in the look and expression of the face of the pretty daughter of the furrier.

Young people went to wander through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle had not heard of this: after all, she remained in the basket and even managed to get bored standing there. But at last they dragged her out, and she immediately saw that things had taken the most cheerful turn during this time: everyone's eyes were laughing, the furrier's daughter smiled, but somehow spoke less than before, her cheeks were still blooming with roses.

Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew ... And you feel a strange sensation when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork seemed to be knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped from it, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: dew-clu-cluck!

- To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beauty of the bride.

- God bless you! added the old men. The young sailor refilled his glasses and exclaimed:

- For my return home and our wedding exactly one year later! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You were a witness to the most beautiful moments of my life, so don't serve anyone else!

It never occurred to the furrier's daughter then that she would see the same bottle again someday high, high in the air, but she had to.

The bottle fell into thick reeds that grew along the banks of a small forest lake. The bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bridegroom, or the bride, or the happy old men, but for a long time she heard their cheerful jubilation and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw a bottle and took it - now it was attached.

The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their older brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was bustling about, putting into his chest one thing, then another, which he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city in order to say goodbye to his son again and convey his mother's blessing to him. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than a small one. Much more tincture could have entered into it, but the tincture was very good and even healing - useful for the stomach. So, the bottle was no longer filled with red wine, but with bitter tincture, but this is also good - for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had, he would not have recognized it; it would never have occurred to him that this was the same one they drank from in the woods to celebrate his engagement and his happy return home.

True, there was no more wine in the bottle, but something no worse, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy”, as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that worked so well on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties down to its last drop. It was fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was driven over it, and for this it was nicknamed the "big lark" or "Peter Jensen's lark."

It's been a long time; the bottle had long stood empty in the corner; suddenly trouble struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or already on the way back - the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and a leak, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, folded the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle that came across, tightly corked it and threw it into the raging waves. He did not know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swaying, swam along the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.

The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of a red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back then. She experienced both calm and new storms, but did not break on the rocks, did not fall into the jaws of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves to and fro; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that can get boring.

A scribbled piece of paper, the last forgive the bridegroom to the bride, would bring with it one grief, if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy day of the engagement? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the very birthplace of the bottle? Which country was she now approaching? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed along the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. It was not at all her business to rush along the waves, and yet she rushed, until at last she sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was said around her: they spoke in some foreign, unfamiliar language, and not in the one she was used to in her homeland; not to understand the language spoken around is a great loss!

They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out a note, twirling it this way and that, but they didn’t take it apart, although they understood that the bottle had been thrown from the sinking ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that's the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large cupboard in the big room of the big house.

Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, twirled and looked at, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and completely erased in the end - no one would now say what was on this scrap when something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days when red wine was poured from her in the green forest, when she swayed on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, the last forgive! ..

She stood in the attic for twenty whole years; would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. The roof was removed, they saw the bottle and started talking, but she still did not understand a word - after all, you can’t learn the language by standing in the attic, stand there for at least twenty years! “Now, if I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”

The bottle was washed and rinsed, which she needed so much. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if rejuvenated again; but the note she carried inside was thrown out of her along with the water.

The bottle was filled with some unfamiliar seeds; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you must see something when you travel,” thought the bottle, but still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off on her journey and arrived where she was supposed to. Here it is unpacked.

- They really tried something there, abroad! Look how they packed it, and yet it probably cracked! - I heard the bottle, but it turned out that it did not crack.

The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the melting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, at home! For joy, she almost jumped out of her hands and barely paid attention to the fact that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But the house is good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long she had stood there, and yet she had stood for more than a year! But here again people came and took all the bottles that were in the basement, including ours.

The garden was splendidly decorated; garlands of multicolored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns shone like transparent tulips. The evening was wonderful, the weather clear and calm. Stars and a young moon shone in the sky; one could see not only the golden, crescent-shaped edge of it, but the whole gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. Illumination was also arranged in the side alleys, although not as brilliant as in the main ones, but quite sufficient so that people would not stumble in the dark. Here, between the bushes, bottles were placed with lighted candles stuck in them; here was our bottle, which was destined in the end to serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was delighted; she again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, there was singing and music, laughter and talk of the crowd, especially dense where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, it is true, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - she served both for beauty and for good, and this is the whole point. At such moments you will forget even twenty years spent in the attic - what better!

A couple walked arm in arm past the bottle, well, just like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier's daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed to be transported into the past. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that merry walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you will not forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn't recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn't recognize her either. This happens all the time in the world: old acquaintances meet and part, not recognizing each other, until a new meeting.

And a new meeting with an old acquaintance was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!

From the garden the bottle went to a vintner, was refilled with wine and sold to an aeronaut who was to go up in a balloon the following Sunday. A large audience gathered, a brass band played; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from a basket where it lay next to a live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be parachuted down from a height! The bottle did not know whether they would fly up or down; she only saw that the balloon inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally, they were cut, and the balloon soared into the air, along with the balloonist, the basket, the bottle, and the rabbit. The music blared and the people cheered.

“But it’s somehow strange to fly through the air! thought the bottle. - Here's a new way to swim! Here, at least, you won’t run into a stone!”

A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; the old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with linnet, which, instead of a glass, also cost a tea cup. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl pushed it aside so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished the balloon in the sky and the balloonist, who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from the bottle to the health of the inhabitants and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé threw high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!

The bottle had no time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny! ..

And so she began to fall down, and much faster than a rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her like that, but not for long - poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at it - the ball had already disappeared; soon disappeared from the eyes of the audience and the bottle. She fell on the roof and broke. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and jumped on the roof until they found themselves in the courtyard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It's like being cut with a diamond!

“Here’s a nice cup for the bird!” - said the owner of the cellar, but he did not have a bird or a cage, and to acquire them just because he got a bottle neck suitable for a glass would be too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic, it could come in handy, and the bottleneck got to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - poured fresh water into it and hung it up to a cage in which linnet was poured.

- Yes, you sing well! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a balloon! The rest of his life was not known to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the chatter of the crowd could be heard from the street, and the voice of the old girl from the closet. An old friend of her age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about a bottle neck, but about a myrtle tree that stood on the window.

“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” the old girl said. - Take my myrtle! You see, how wonderful, all in flowers! It grew out of the offspring of that myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never waited for this day! Closed those eyes that should have been shining on me for joy and happiness all my life! At the bottom of the sea, my dear fiance sleeps!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry out, I took the last fresh branch from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally get to the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!

Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember a friend of her youth, an engagement in the forest, a toast to their health, she thought of the first kiss ... but she did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there is another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such noise when they drank to the health of the betrothed. And the bottleneck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she said, but mainly because it thought only of itself.

In a narrow, crooked alley, in a row of other miserable houses, stood a narrow, high house, half stone, half wooden, ready to crawl out from all over. Poor people lived in it; especially poor, miserable conditions were in the closet, huddled under the very roof. Outside the closet window hung an old cage, which did not even have a real glass of water: it was replaced by a bottle neck, plugged with a cork and turned down with a stoppered end. An old girl was standing at the open window and treating the linnet plant with fresh wood lice, while the bird jumped merrily from perch to perch and sang a song.

"You sing well!" - said the bottle neck, of course, not in the way we speak, - the bottle neck cannot speak - it only thought, said it to itself, as people sometimes mentally speak to themselves. “Yes, you sing well! You must have all the bones! But if you tried to lose, like me, your entire body, to remain with one neck and a mouth, moreover, plugged with a cork, I suppose you would not sing! However, it's good that at least someone can have fun! I have nothing to have fun and sing, and I can’t sing today! And in the old days, when I was still a whole bottle, and I sang, if they drove a wet cork over me. I was even called once a lark, a big lark! I've been to the forest too! Well, they took me with them on the day of the engagement of the furrier's daughter. Yes, I remember everything so vividly, as if it was yesterday! I experienced a lot, as I think, I went through fire and water, I visited both under the earth and in the skies, not like others! And now I am again soaring in the air and basking in the sun! My story is worth listening to! But I don’t tell it out loud, and I can’t.”

And the neck told it to itself, or rather, thought it over to itself. The story was indeed quite remarkable, and at that time the linnet was singing to itself in the cage. Below, along the street, people were walking and riding, each thinking his own or not thinking about anything at all - but the bottleneck was thinking!

It remembered the fiery furnace in the glass factory where life was breathed into the bottle, remembered how hot the young bottle was, how it looked into the seething melting furnace - the place of its birth - feeling a fiery desire to rush back there. But little by little she cooled off and became quite reconciled to her new position. She stood in a row of other brothers and sisters. There was a whole regiment of them! They all came from the same oven, but some were for champagne, others for beer, and that's the difference! Subsequently, it happens, of course, that a beer bottle is filled with precious lacrimae Christi, and champagne with wax, but nevertheless, the natural purpose of each is immediately given out by its style - a noble will remain noble even with wax inside!

All bottles were packed; our bottle too; then she did not even imagine that she would end up in the form of a bottleneck in the position of a glass for a bird - a position, however, in fact, quite respectable: it is better to be at least something than nothing! The bottle saw white light only in the Rensk cellar; there she and her other companions were unpacked and rinsed - what a strange feeling it was! The bottle lay empty, without a cork, and she felt some kind of emptiness in her stomach, as if something was missing, but she herself did not know what. But here it was poured with wonderful wine, corked and sealed with sealing wax, and a label was pasted on the side: “First grade”. The bottle looks like it got a perfect mark on an exam; but the wine was really good, the bottle too. In our youth, we are all poets, so something in our bottle played and sang about such things that she herself had no idea about: green, sunlit mountains with vineyards on the slopes, about cheerful girls and guys that they gather grapes with songs, kiss and laugh... Yes, life is so good! This is what wandered and sang in the bottle, as in the soul of young poets - they also often do not know what they are singing about.

One morning they bought a bottle - a furrier's boy came into the cellar and demanded a bottle of wine of the very first grade. The bottle ended up in the basket next to the ham, cheese and sausage, wonderful butter and rolls. The furrier's daughter put everything into the basket herself. The girl was young and pretty; her black eyes were laughing, and a smile played on her lips, as expressive as her eyes. Her hands were thin, soft, very white, but her chest and neck were even whiter. It was immediately obvious that she was one of the most beautiful girls in the city and - imagine - she had not yet been betrothed!

The whole family went to the forest; a girl carried a basket of supplies on her knees; the bottleneck protruded from under the white tablecloth with which the basket was covered. The red wax head of the bottle looked straight at the girl and at the young navigator, the son of their neighbour, the painter, the friend of the beauty's childhood games, who was sitting next to her. He had just brilliantly passed his exam, and the next day he was already supposed to sail on a ship to foreign countries. This was talked about a lot during the preparations for the forest, and at that moment no special joy was noticed in the look and expression of the face of the pretty daughter of the furrier.

Young people went to wander through the forest. What were they talking about? Yes, the bottle had not heard of this: after all, she remained in the basket and even managed to get bored standing there. But at last they dragged her out, and she immediately saw that things had taken the most cheerful turn during this time: everyone's eyes were laughing, the furrier's daughter smiled, but somehow spoke less than before, her cheeks were still blooming with roses.

Father took a bottle of wine and a corkscrew ... And you feel a strange sensation when you are uncorked for the first time! The bottle could never forget that solemn moment when the cork seemed to be knocked out of it and a deep sigh of relief escaped from it, and the wine gurgled into the glasses: clew-clew-cleck!

- To the health of the bride and groom! - said the father, and everyone emptied their glasses to the bottom, and the young navigator kissed the beauty of the bride.

- God bless you! added the old men. The young sailor refilled his glasses and exclaimed:

- For my return home and our wedding exactly one year later! - And when the glasses were drained, he grabbed the bottle and threw it high, high into the air: - You were a witness to the most beautiful moments of my life, so don't serve anyone else!

It never occurred to the furrier's daughter then that she would see the same bottle again someday high, high in the air, but she had to.

The bottle fell into thick reeds that grew along the banks of a small forest lake. The bottleneck still vividly remembered how she lay there and thought: “I treated them to wine, and now they treat me to swamp water, but, of course, from a good heart!” The bottle could no longer see either the bridegroom, or the bride, or the happy old men, but for a long time she heard their cheerful jubilation and singing. Then two peasant boys appeared, looked into the reeds, saw a bottle and took it - now it was attached.

The boys lived in a small house in the forest. Yesterday their older brother, a sailor, came to say goodbye to them - he was leaving on a long voyage; and now his mother was bustling about, putting into his chest this and that, which he needed for the journey. In the evening, the father himself wanted to take the chest to the city in order to say goodbye to his son again and convey his mother's blessing to him. A small bottle of tincture was also placed in the chest. Suddenly boys appeared with a large bottle, much better and stronger than a small one. Much more tincture could have entered into it, but the tincture was very good and even healing - useful for the stomach. So, the bottle was no longer filled with red wine, but with bitter tincture, but this is also good - for the stomach. Instead of a small one, a large bottle was placed in the chest, which thus set sail with Peter Jensen, and he served on the same ship with the young navigator. But the young navigator did not see the bottle, and even if he had, he would not have recognized it; it would never have occurred to him that this was the same one they drank from in the woods to celebrate his engagement and his happy return home.

True, there was no more wine in the bottle, but something no worse, and Peter Jensen often took out his “pharmacy”, as his comrades called the bottle, and poured them the medicine that worked so well on the stomach. And the medicine retained its healing properties right down to its last drop. It was fun time! The bottle even sang when the cork was driven over it, and for this it was nicknamed the "big lark" or "Peter Jensen's lark."

It's been a long time; the bottle had long stood empty in the corner; suddenly trouble struck. Whether the misfortune happened on the way to foreign lands, or already on the way back - the bottle did not know - after all, it had never gone ashore. A storm broke out; huge black waves tossed the ship like a ball, the mast broke, a hole formed and a leak, the pumps stopped working. The darkness was impenetrable, the ship tilted and began to sink into the water. In these last minutes, the young navigator managed to scribble a few words on a piece of paper: “Lord have mercy! We are dying! Then he wrote the name of his bride, his name and the name of the ship, rolled up the paper into a tube, put it in the first empty bottle he came across, corked it tightly and threw it into the raging waves. He did not know that this was the same bottle from which he poured good wine into glasses on the happy day of his engagement. Now she, swaying, swam along the waves, carrying away his farewell, dying greetings.

The ship sank, the whole crew too, and the bottle flew across the sea like a bird: it carried the groom’s heartfelt greetings to the bride! The sun rose and set, reminding the bottle of the red-hot furnace in which it was born and into which it so wanted to rush back then. She experienced both calm and new storms, but did not break on the rocks, did not fall into the jaws of a shark. For more than a year she rushed along the waves to and fro; True, at that time she was her own mistress, but even that can get boring.

A scribbled piece of paper, the last forgiveness of the groom to the bride, would bring with it one grief if it fell into the hands of the one to whom it was addressed. But where were those little white hands that spread the white tablecloth on the fresh grass in the green forest on the happy day of the engagement? Where was the furrier's daughter? And where was the very birthplace of the bottle? Which country was she now approaching? She didn't know any of this. She rushed and rushed along the waves, so that in the end she even got bored. Rushing on the waves was not at all her business, and yet she rushed, until at last she sailed to the shore of a foreign land. She did not understand a word of what was said around her: they spoke in some foreign, unfamiliar language, and not in the one she was used to in her homeland; not to understand the language spoken around is a great loss!

They caught the bottle, examined it, saw it and took out a note, twirled it this way and that, but did not make it apart, although they understood that the bottle had been thrown from the sinking ship and that all this was said in the note. But what exactly? Yes, that's the whole point! The note was put back into the bottle, and the bottle was placed in a large cupboard in the big room of the big house.

Every time a new guest appeared in the house, the note was taken out, shown, twirled and examined, so that the letters written in pencil were gradually erased and completely erased in the end - no one would now say what was on this piece of paper when something is written. The bottle stood in the closet for another year, then ended up in the attic, where it was covered with dust and cobwebs. Standing there, she remembered the best days when they poured red wine from her in the green forest, when she rocked on the sea waves, carrying a secret, a letter, the last forgive! ..

She stood in the attic for twenty whole years; would have stood longer, but they decided to rebuild the house. The roof was removed, they saw the bottle and started talking, but she still did not understand a word - after all, you can’t learn the language by standing in the attic, stand there for at least twenty years! “Now, if I had stayed downstairs in the room,” the bottle rightly reasoned, “I would probably have learned!”

The bottle was washed and rinsed, which she needed so much. And now she all cleared up, brightened up, as if rejuvenated again; but the note that she carried inside her was thrown out of her along with the water.

The bottle was filled with some unfamiliar seeds; they plugged it with a cork and packed it so carefully that she couldn’t even see the light of God, let alone the sun or the moon. “But you must see something when you travel,” thought the bottle, but still didn’t see anything. The main thing, however, was done: she set off on her journey and arrived where she was supposed to. Here it is unpacked.

- They really tried something there, abroad! Look, how they packed it, and yet it, perhaps, cracked! - I heard the bottle, but it turned out that it did not crack.

The bottle understood every word; they spoke the same language that she heard when she came out of the melting furnace, heard at the wine merchant, and in the forest, and on the ship, in a word - in the only, real, understandable and good native language! She found herself at home again, at home! She almost jumped out of her hands with joy and barely paid attention to the fact that she was uncorked, emptied, and then put in the basement, where she was forgotten. But the house is good in the basement. It never occurred to her to count how long the eye had stood there, and yet she had stood for more than a year! But here again people came and took all the bottles that were in the basement, including ours.

The garden was splendidly decorated; garlands of multicolored lights were thrown over the paths, paper lanterns shone like transparent tulips. The evening was wonderful, the weather clear and calm. Stars and a young moon shone in the sky; however, not only the golden crescent-shaped edge of it was visible, but also the entire gray-blue circle - visible, of course, only to those who had good eyes. Illumination was also arranged in the side alleys, although not as brilliant as in the main ones, but quite sufficient so that people would not stumble in the dark. Here, between the bushes, bottles were placed with lighted candles stuck in them; here was our bottle, which was destined in the end to serve as a glass for the bird. The bottle was in awe; she again found herself among the greenery, again there was fun around her, there was singing and music, laughter and talk of the crowd, especially dense where garlands of multi-colored light bulbs swayed and paper lanterns shone with bright colors. The bottle itself, it is true, stood in a side alley, but here one could dream; she held a candle - she served both for beauty and for good, and this is the whole point. At such moments you will forget even twenty years spent in the attic - what better!

A couple walked arm in arm past the bottle, well, exactly like that couple in the forest - the navigator with the furrier's daughter; the bottle suddenly seemed to be transported into the past. Invited guests walked in the garden, and strangers walked, who were allowed to admire the guests and the beautiful spectacle; among them was an old girl, she had no relatives, but had friends. She was thinking about the same thing as the bottle; she also remembered the green forest and the young couple who were so close to her heart - after all, she herself participated in that merry walk, she herself was that happy bride! She then spent the happiest hours of her life in the forest, and you will not forget them, even when you become an old maid! But she didn't recognize the bottle, and the bottle didn't recognize her either. This happens all the time in the world: old acquaintances meet and part, not recognizing each other, until a new meeting.

And a new meeting with an old acquaintance was waiting for the bottle - after all, they were now in the same city!

From the garden the bottle went to a vintner, was refilled with wine and sold to an aeronaut who was to go up in a balloon the following Sunday. A large audience gathered, a brass band played; great preparations were underway. The bottle saw all this from a basket where it lay next to a live rabbit. The poor rabbit was completely confused - he knew that he would be parachuted down from a height! The bottle did not know whether they would fly up or down; she only saw that the balloon inflated more and more, then rose from the ground and began to rush upward, but the ropes still held it tightly. Finally, they were cut, and the balloon soared into the air, along with the balloonist, the basket, the bottle, and the rabbit. The music blared and the people cheered.

“But it’s somehow strange to fly through the air! thought the bottle. - Here's a new way to swim! Here at least you won’t run into a stone!”

A crowd of thousands looked at the ball; the old girl also looked out of her open window; outside the window hung a cage with linnet, which, instead of a glass, also cost a tea cup. There was a myrtle tree on the windowsill; the old girl pushed it aside so as not to drop it, leaned out of the window and clearly distinguished the balloon in the sky and the balloonist, who parachuted a rabbit, then drank from the bottle to the health of the inhabitants and threw the bottle up. It never occurred to the girl that this was the same bottle that her fiancé threw high into the air in the green forest on the happiest day of her life!

The bottle had no time to think about anything - it so unexpectedly found itself at the zenith of its life path. Towers and roofs of houses lay somewhere down there, people seemed so tiny! ..

And so she began to fall down, and much faster than a rabbit; she tumbled and danced in the air, she felt so young, so cheerful, the wine played in her like that, but not for long - poured out. That's how the flight was! The sun's rays reflected on its glass walls, all the people looked only at her - the ball had already disappeared; soon disappeared from the eyes of the audience and the bottle. She fell on the roof and broke. The fragments, however, did not immediately calm down - they jumped and jumped on the roof until they found themselves in the courtyard and broke into even smaller pieces on the stones. One neck survived; It's like being cut with a diamond!

“Here’s a nice cup for the bird!” - said the owner of the cellar, but he himself did not have a bird or a cage, and to acquire them just because he got a bottle neck suitable for a glass would be too much! But the old girl who lived in the attic, it could come in handy, and the bottleneck got to her; they plugged it with a cork, turned it upside down - such changes often happen in the world - poured fresh water into it and hung it up to a cage in which linnet was poured.

- Yes, you sing well! - said the bottleneck, and it was wonderful - it flew in a balloon! The rest of his life was not known to anyone. Now it served as a glass for the bird, swayed in the air along with the cage, the rumble of carriages and the chatter of the crowd could be heard from the street, and the voice of the old girl from the closet. An old friend of her age came to visit her, and the conversation was not about a bottle neck, but about a myrtle tree that stood on the window.

“Really, you don’t need to spend two riksdalers on a wedding wreath for your daughter!” the old girl said. - Take my myrtle! You see, how wonderful, all in flowers! It grew out of the offspring of that myrtle that you gave me the day after my engagement. I was going to make a wreath out of it for my wedding day, but I never waited for this day! Closed those eyes that should have been shining on me for joy and happiness all my life! At the bottom of the sea, my dear fiance sleeps!.. Myrta has grown old, and I have grown even older! When it began to dry up, I took the last fresh branch from it and planted it in the ground. This is how it has grown and will finally get to the wedding: we will make a wedding wreath from its branches for your daughter!

Tears welled up in the old girl's eyes; she began to remember a friend of her youth, an engagement in the forest, a toast to their health, she thought of the first kiss ... but she did not mention it - she was already an old maid! She remembered and thought about many things, but not about the fact that outside the window, so close to her, there is another reminder of that time - the neck of the very bottle from which the cork was knocked out with such noise when they drank to the health of the betrothed. And the neck itself did not recognize the old acquaintance, partly because it did not listen to what she told, but mainly because it thought only of itself.