Last week my dear friend Omar e-mailed me and asked for a translation of a post; therefore, I've decided to make some posts in English every now and then. My first post will be about Christmas and an enduring classic. While I was roaming around flickr.com, I've came across this imperfect but beautiful image , and found a paragraph from Dostoevsky's "The Christmas Tree and The Wedding" to caption it. For those who haven't or will not have a merry christmas, enjoy...
The children were charming. They absolutely refused to resemble their elders, notwithstanding the efforts of mothers and governesses. In a jiffy they had denuded the Christmas tree down to the very last sweet and had already succeeded in breaking half of their playthings before they even found out which belonged to whom....
I was quite lost in admiration of the shrewdness our host displayed in the dispensing of the gifts. The little maid of the many-rubied dowry received the handsomest doll, and the rest of the gifts were graded in value according to the diminishing scale of the parents' stations in life. The last child, a tiny chap of ten, thin, red-haired, freckled, came into possession of a small book of nature stories without illustrations or even head and tail pieces. He was the governess's child. She was a poor widow, and her little boy, clad in a sorry-looking little nankeen jacket, looked thoroughly crushed and intimidated. He took the book of nature stories and circled slowly about the children's toys. He would have given anything to play with them. But he did not dare to. You could tell he already knew his place.
Oh I almost forgot, Merry Christmas.
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