Whether it was close or far away, I don’t know where, there lived an old man. All the old man had was a wicker bast sieve, a silver ladle and a wooden mallet. There was nothing else. That's how he lived.
And then one day he heard that in a neighboring camp a rich shaman was celebrating a wake. The old man went to the funeral and took a sieve with him. But the sieve was not simple. Even if you put sand or snow in it, if you shake it, all kinds of food will fall out of it.
So the old man came to the shaman, left the sieve on the hangers, and went into the house. The shaman's servants began to treat the old man with red vodka. An old man sits and drinks.
And while he was sitting in the house and drinking vodka, the shaman went out into the yard and saw an old man’s wicker sieve hanging on the hangers. The shaman took the sieve and started shaking it. And suddenly rolls, pancakes, and flatbreads fell out of the sieve.
“Here,” the shaman thinks, “what a good sieve!”
He took the sieve and hid it.
And the old man got ready to go home. He approaches the hangers, looks - there is no sieve. I searched and searched, but it’s nowhere to be found. The old man got angry, but there was nothing to do. Went home without a sieve.
The next day they again called the old man to the shaman. This time he took a silver ladle with him. And the old man’s ladle was not simple either. As soon as you tilt it, wine will flow out of it.
The old man came to the shaman, left the ladle on the hangers, and entered the house. He sits in the house, drinks red vodka. And while he was drinking vodka, the shaman went out into the yard and saw a silver ladle hanging on the hangers. He took the ladle, tilted it, and wine poured out of the ladle. No matter how much he pours, no matter how much he drinks, the wine never ends!
The shaman thinks: “I’ll have to steal the ladle.” And he stole it.
An old man came out and looked, but there was no ladle. He searched and searched and went home.
On the third day, the old man began to gather again for the shaman. He went to his barn and looked - except for the beater, there was nothing left.
And although his mallet was wooden, it was also not a simple one.
He took the mallet, threw it behind his back and hit the road. Again I went to the shaman’s house and left the mallet on the hangers. As soon as he sat down with the guests and began to drink red vodka, suddenly the guests heard a knock, a scream, a noise in the yard...
Everyone ran out of the house and looked - the mallet itself was beating the shaman.
Shaman shouts:
- Oh, don't kill!
And the mallet on his back just jumps and beats the thief.
The shaman shouts again:
- Oh, don't kill! I'll give you the sieve...
“No,” says the old man, “I also had a ladle.” The shaman ran to his house, brought a sieve and a ladle, and gave it to the old man.
Then the old man said to his mallet:
- Okay, stop hitting the thief. He's had enough. He took his wicker sieve, his silver ladle, and his wooden mallet and went to his home. From then on he began to live at home and no longer went to the shaman.
This is how the old man lived. Whether it’s close or far away, I don’t know.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru