The Harlequin is Coming to Town There was a man who once knew many new fairy tales, but he said that now they have all slipped away.

The fairy tale that came to his door no longer came, no longer knocked on his door: why didn't it come?

Yes, that's absolutely true.

The man did not think about it for a whole year, nor did he expect it to knock on his door.

However, it did not come.

Because there is a war outside, and there is sadness and deprivation caused by the war at home.

The stork and the swallow returned from their long journey.

They have no regard for danger.

When they came back, their nests were burned down, and people's houses were burned down. It was a mess everywhere, which made everyone unbearable.

Yes, there is literally nothing. The enemy's horses are trampling over the ancient tombs.

These are really hard and dark times, but there is an end to them.

Now, that time is over, people say so.

But the fairy tale still didn't knock on the door, and I didn't hear any news about it.

"It probably died and died with other things," the man said.

But that fairy tale never dies.

A whole year has passed, and he misses her hard.

"Then the fairy tale will come again and knock on the door again!" He vividly remembered many scenes when the fairy tale came to see him.

At times it is young and pretty, almost springlike, like a beautiful little girl with a wreath of woodruff on her head, a beech branch in her hand, and eyes as bright as the water of a deep forest lake in the clear sunshine;

Sometimes he turns into a salesman, opening his cargo box and letting ribbons written with poems and ancient texts float up.

But the best thing is that it becomes the same as when the old mother came, with silver hair, big and intelligent eyes, and it can tell the stories of ancient times best, that is, the princess spinning thread with a golden spindle, the dragon and the giant python outside

The time of the guards was much older.

At that time, she spoke so vividly that black spots appeared in the eyes of everyone listening around, and the ground was stained black with human blood. It looked and sounded so scary, but also so interesting, because this happened in ancient times.

"I wonder if it will knock on the door!" the man said, staring at the door, and black spots appeared in front of his eyes and on the ground.

He couldn't figure out whether it was blood or the heavy, mournful veil of the dark ages.

He sat there, thinking to himself, could it be that the fairy tale is hidden, just like the princess in the real ancient fairy tale, hidden and left to be found, and if found, then it will be glorious again, more beautiful than ever before?

pretty.

"Who knows! Maybe it is hidden in the hay thrown carelessly by the well. Be careful! Be careful! Maybe it is hidden in a withered flower hidden in a big book on the shelf.

"The man walked over and opened a latest book to take a closer look.

But there are no flowers in it, and the story of Holger the Dane can be read in it.

This person read that the story was made up by a French monk, that it was a novel, and that it was "translated and published in Danish"; that Holger the Dane did not exist at all, and did not exist at all.

Will come back just like we sang about and so much wanted to believe.

Danish Holger, like William Tell, is a random fabrication of stories that cannot be believed.

These are all books written by highly educated people.

"Yes, I believe in what I believe in," the man said. "Where there is no foot, there is no road." He closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

Then, he walked to the place where flowers were placed beside the window sill. Maybe the fairy tale was hidden in the red tulips with gold edges, or in the roses, or in the brightly colored camellias.

There is sunshine among the petals, but there is no fairy tale.

"The flowers of the hard and sad times were much more beautiful. But those flowers were plucked, woven into garlands, put in the coffin, and placed on the unfurled flag. Maybe the fairy tale was buried with those flowers

Into the soil! But the flowers should know it, the coffin should feel it, and every grass that grows should tell it. " "Maybe.

It has already come and knocked on the door. But who had heard or thought about it at that time! People's eyes were dim, and everyone was worried, looking at the spring sunshine, the chirping birds and everything.

The refreshing green color. Yes, there are no longer those old, popular songs on the tongue. These songs have been packed in boxes with many of our beloved things. Fairy tales may have come knocking on the door, but no one listened.

Once there, no one welcomed it, so it walked away again. "I'm going to find it."