Fluttering in the evening twilight and enjoying the coolness, the elegant moth suddenly noticed a flickering light in the distance. He immediately headed towards the illuminated place, and when he was nearby, he began to fly around the night light burning on the window, looking at it in surprise. How handsome this stranger is!
Having admired it enough, the moth decided to get closer to the bright light and play with it, as he usually played in the garden with flowers, swinging on their corollas, as if on a swing. Having flown a little to the side, he made a sharp turn and flew by, almost touching the yellow tongue of flame and as if inviting it to play. But something painfully stabbed him and threw him up. Having sat down on the windowsill by the night light, the moth was amazed to discover that it had lost one leg and had scorched the edges of its wings.
“How could this happen?” — the moth asked itself in bewilderment and could not find an answer. He could not allow such a wonderful, harmless light to cause him harm. Having recovered a little from the shock, the moth again spread its wings and fluttered. Having made several circles over the burning night light, he calmly flew straight into the flame, wanting to swing on it, but immediately fell into the oil that fed the insidious flame.
“How cruel you are,” said the moth, losing strength. “I hoped to find a friend in you, but I found destruction.” Too late I realized how angry and dangerous you are! My naivety cost me dearly.
- Poor moth! - the saddened nightlight answered him. “Is it my fault that I am not a flower, but a flame?” You didn't heed my warning and started playing with me.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru