الجزء السادس
الـ
(7)
Little bird, little bird,’ said the prince, ‘please will you stay with me for one more night?’ ‘My friends are waiting for me,’ answered the bird.
‘Far away across the city,’ said the prince, ‘I can see a young writer in a little room at the top of a house. He is sitting at a table that is covered with papers. At his side there are some dead flowers. He is trying to finish a story. But he is very cold and he cannot write. There is no fire in the room, and he is weak and hungry.’
‘I will wait with you for one more night,’ said the bird kindly. ‘What shall I take to him?’
‘Take him one of my eyes,’ said the prince. ‘They are made of beautiful blue stones from India. The young man can sell it and buy wood and food. He can finish his story.’
