There lived in the same swamp, and on the same river, two birds - a long-legged crane and a long-necked heron. They lived not far from each other, both lonely, only the swamp separated them. The crane was on one side, the heron was on the other.
A crane sits on a hillock, looking across the water - and there a heron is preening itself, cleaning its feathers. "Oh, - thinks the crane, - why am I all alone? I'll go and marry a heron. She's also alone, my neighbor." He put on his best boots (because a crane has long legs), took a bouquet of flowers.
He trudged through the swamp, through the reeds, through the sedge. He finally came to the heron's hut by the river. He knocked on the door with his long beak: "Knock-knock-knock." The heron came out - fluffed out its white feathers, straightened its neck proudly.
«"Good afternoon, little heron-dove. I have come to propose to you. Will you marry me?" The heron looked at the crane from head to toe. "Look at you! Your legs are long, like sticks, your neck is too, and your beak is crooked like a duck's. And your clothes are old. What kind of heron will I become with such a crane? Go, go, don't torture yourself or me.".
The crane became sad, lowered its beak, and stumbled back through the swamp. He raved, raved, dropped the bouquet into the water, almost crying himself. "How I wanted to get married, and she pushed me away." He came home, sat down on a hill, and was sad.
And the heron closed the door behind the crane and sat down to think. She sat and sat until she remembered: "Why am I so proud? I'm all alone - and all the herons I know already have their families. And the crane is kind. And the owner is also kind - he catches fish and has a place to live." The heron repented.
She pulled on her best feathers, put on a wreath of duckweed, and walked across the swamp. She walked with long legs, not noticing that her neck was plunging into the water. She reached the crane's hut. She knocked softly: "Knock-knock-knock." The crane came out - and the heron stood, blushing: "Crane-dove, I've come. I've changed my mind. Let's go get married!"«
And the crane had already harbored a grudge. He remembered how she laughed at him, how she scolded his legs. "No, heron, I will not marry you. Tell me, don't tell me - you will not make up for my grudge. Go away, look for another." The heron was offended, turned around and went back.
She walks through the swamp, crying. "Well, let it be. It's calmer for her." And the crane sits, watching her. And he thinks: "Why did I chase her away? She came herself, apologized. And I ruined everything with my pride." He broke away from the hump, ran after the heron.
He ran to her hut: «Little heron, I’ve changed my mind! Marry me!» And the heron was already sitting, also harboring a grudge: «I won’t marry you. I refused once — and I won’t marry you again.» The crane went back again, sad. He sat down — and thought again. And then she changed her mind. And she went to him. And in the meantime, he changed his mind again, and proudly refused. And so to this day, the crane and the heron walk towards each other across the swamp — now he proposes, now she. Everything doesn’t suit her, everything doesn’t suit him. And they can’t come to an agreement. That’s how pride and arrogance steal happiness. And if the heron had listened to the crane from the first time — they would have lived together in one cozy hut long ago.
💛 As long as pride leads you by the nose, you can't summon happiness.