The Eyes of A Cloud

Once upon a time, there was a cloud. 

He was alone in an unknown land. He didn't even know how he was born. He did not know when he came there. But the cloud knew a song, and he didn’t know who taught him that song. And yet he kept silent, stubbornly silent. The children threw stones at him, but the fluffy white cloud, white as down feathers, was still silent. The cloud thought to himself: how can I sing a song if I don't know the language of these children? And how can I sing to them the melody without any words? Perhaps even if I knew the words to this song they wouldn't have understood me.

 

Years passed, months passed, and days passed by. The cloud was always above the meadow where the children played, and he watched them and he was smiling gently at them because he had always loved all the children he saw. It never crossed his mind that there could be any other land but the one he saw down there every day. Until, one day like any other, a little girl looked up at the sky and saw him watching her. The little girl then forgot that she had seen him and went on with her play, and the cloud continued to watch her, as all the other children were playing with each other. Towards evening, the little girl, tired from playing, went home through the wood near the meadow sprinkled with flowers and children. The cloud felt himself caught in the little girl's grip, like a paper kite carried with a string by the child running with it.

 

As they left the clearing, the cloud saw that there were other beauties outside his daily clearing, which was so dear to him. The little girl passed among the straight and beautiful trees with their silver bark and green leaves, among the trees with their brass bark and ruby leaves, and among many other beauties that he could not understand. But none spoke, none sang, except the little girl whose language he could not understand.

 

Suddenly the cloud saw the little girl approaching a little house. But before the little girl could reach the door of the cottage, she had to cross a small lake with crystal clear water. The carefree little girl crossed the bridge lightly and cheerfully. The cloud, unwillingly tied to her hand, suddenly saw himself in the mirror of the lake. But the cloud, having never looked in the mirror before, had no idea what he really looked like. The little girl entered her cottage, where she was greeted by her family. It is not known what happened to the cloud, but that night it rained heavily in the little forest from that corner of the world.

 

The next day the leaves were singing in the sunshine, the winged blackbirds and sparrows seemed to have come back at once to their homes, and it was obvious that their place was among the branches of the beautiful trees. And they all sang together, while the little girl in the wood and the other children played and sang as they had always played and sang together.