The promise of the textile woman

By the side of the river grew a small rose, short in stature, tender and weak branches swaying in the wind. It was night, and there was no sound. Little Rose was so afraid that she cried.

As the textile maiden flew by, she heard the crying. She stopped and asked, "Little Rose, why are you crying?"

"I am afraid, textile maiden, and no one speaks to me. Will you stay the night with me?" "Pleaded the little Rose.

The textile woman said, "I have to go to the flower party to play the music. My companions are waiting for me, so I cannot stay with you."

"Where will the flowers be? Can you take me?" "Said Little Rose.

"The flowers will be in the park, where all kinds of flowers bloom, you have roots, I can't carry you." The textile mother thought for a moment, and comforted and encouraged the little rose, "Little rose, you have to face life bravely, and try to make yourself grow tall and bright flowers. Bees and butterflies will come and sing and dance around you, and you will be happy to change your environment."

Little Rose nodded happily and said, "Will you come then too?"

"And when that happens, I..." The textile woman thought for a moment and said, "I will come."

"Let's make a pact. You must come to see me when I bloom." "Said Little Rose.

"Good! I also made a promise with you that you should be brave and strong, do not cry, and strive for three years to blossom. At that time, I will come to congratulate you." "And the textile flew away.

Little Rose nodded and stopped crying. Its heart is full of hope, diligently in the sun and rain under the long leaves, strong tendons in the storm.

Year after year passed, and in the early summer of the third year, roses blossomed, fragrant and beautiful. The bees and butterflies smelled the flowers and came. They flashed their wings to sing and dance. The river was busy.

The happy rose waited for the textile mother from morning to evening, but she did not see her coming. She was very anxious.

When the moon rose, the textile mother flew over at last, and praised: "Rose, you have not disappointed everyone, the flowers are so bright!"

"You did not miss your appointment, Weaver," said the rose happily. For three years I have carried your words to my heart, and without your encouragement I might have died in despair."

"Rose," said the weaver, "I will tell you a secret. When we insects reach the adult stage, we only have a few months to live. At the beginning to encourage you to brave life is my grandma, grandma promised you, when you bloom to see you. For this promise, when she was dying, she entrusted her promise to my mother, and a year later, when my mother left, she entrusted me with the promise grandma made to you. I know you bloom this year, specially come to see you on behalf of grandma, to congratulate you, to fulfill the promise grandma made, to finish what mom entrusted."

The rose was moved to tears.

In the bright moonlight, the weaver played music for the roses, now like spinning, now like weaving. The beautiful music, with the fragrance of flowers, floated in the clear night sky.