Once upon a time, a little mouse lived in the forest. He loved music so much that he heard it in everything: in the rustle of leaves, the breath of wind, the flow of the river, the sound of rain falling to the ground.
In the evenings, the little mouse would visit a musician who lived on the edge of the forest, having retreated from people to create his greatest melody. The little one would climb up high and sit on his hind legs, listening with bated breath as the creator played, barely touching the black and white keys of an old grand piano.
One evening, the musician noticed his guest, approached him, and held out a few blueberries in his palm. The little mouse was not frightened. He heard the music of the soul and felt that before him stood a good person, so he ate the berries and stayed in place.
The musician understood that the little one was waiting for a new melody that would pour from the old, faithful grand piano, devoted to the most beautiful form of communication. But why doesn't he leave when there's no music? He must surely be very scared to be so close to a human. And the maestro began to speak.
How beautiful the forest is in summer! So many bright colours and fragrances of flowering plants! And truly, my little music lover: summer sounds special. Now I will play you its melody, written by a wonderful composer. So, Antonio Lucio Vivaldi, "The Four Seasons," "Summer."
As soon as the musician finished playing, the little mouse jumped to the floor and disappeared behind the half-open door.
Time passed. Autumn arrived. Leaves began to swirl, and the aroma of foliage painted in gold hung in the air like mist. Rains visited the forest more and more often, and it grew colder.
One evening, the little mouse, as usual, came running to listen to the music. Suddenly, in his favourite spot, he discovered a small house—warm and cosy. Making himself comfortable there, the little creature prepared to listen.
But the musician was in no hurry to play. He handed the little mouse a piece of apple and began to speak.
Well, hello there, my little lover of beauty! I'm glad to see you. Have you noticed? The birds are flying south, the forest has turned to gold, it's grown colder. Autumn has arrived. It's time for us, my friend, to listen to how it sounds. Make yourself comfortable. Antonio Lucio Vivaldi, "The Four Seasons," "Autumn."
The maestro finished the melody, but the little mouse no longer wanted to leave his corner. He sat and listened to the music of the greatest creator. Of course, he knew no others, but this man had become his friend, giving him a beautifully sounding world and a new home.
Now the little mouse and the musician were inseparable. The maestro composed melodies, and the little grey one hid from the cold in his cosy nest and listened. And wonderful sounds flowed in the distance from the bustle, in the house on the edge of the old forest.
The musician prepared for winter, stocking up on mushrooms, cranberries, and nuts. And then winter arrived.
The forest was wrapped in a blanket of snow, blizzards visited more and more often, but in the house of the little mouse and the musician it was warm. And with music, the long evenings became merrier.
One morning, the maestro set out for a walk. He stepped onto the icy surface of the river to get a better look at the winter forest and hear its songs. Lost in thought, he stumbled and fell through a hole in the ice. With difficulty, he made it back home. After changing into dry clothes and warming up, he sat down to play for his little friend.
How beautiful is the forest, asleep until spring under a white blanket. It is quiet and frosty, and the sharp air tickles the nose. Winter has its own charm. Are you ready to hear how winter sounds? Antonio Lucio Vivaldi, "The Four Seasons," "Winter."
The musician finished the melody and stood up from his chair. Swaying, he headed to the table to get some dried cranberries to treat the little mouse, but suddenly collapsed on the carpet, exhausted.
The little creature felt that something was wrong with his friend. Scurrying through a crack by the door, the little one found himself outside. The forest was indeed beautiful under its white blanket, but the little creature wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about how to help the musician, and decided to find someone who could heal him.
From running through deep snow, the little mouse was exhausted. When you're tiny, it's hard to make your way through snowdrifts, but what won't you do for a friend. Finally, he spotted a house, and next to it his greatest enemy—a cat.
It was terrifying to go forward. With his last bit of strength, the little mouse rushed ahead and squeezed through a crack. He saw a man studying some papers.
The grey little one approached him very closely and squeaked pitifully. The man looked at the little mouse.
Well, hello there! It's not often you meet such guests in a house. What has happened to you? I'm a doctor, I can help. Allow me to examine you.
Taking the little mouse in his hands, the doctor carefully looked over his back, head, paws, and belly.
You are perfectly healthy, my little friend, although it seems you've been running for a long time and are very tired. Something is troubling you. Now I'll feed you, and then we'll think about what to do.
The doctor handed the little mouse a spoon of porridge. The little one ate and, turning toward the door, began to wait for the doctor to follow him.
The healer understood the little mouse and grabbed his coat and medical bag. The little creature ran with incredible speed. Finally, they reached the musician's house.
The doctor entered and saw the maestro sitting on the floor. The doctor helped him into bed, examined him, and gave him medicine. The musician winced: the mixture was nothing like a sweet candy. The little creature winced along with his friend.
All night the doctor sat by the bedside of the sick man, bringing down his fever. The little mouse, burying his face in his friend's hand, slept, exhausted from the long journey.
By morning, the musician felt better. The doctor left him the necessary medicines and departed, saying he would check in a week.
The musician recovered. He took up his greatest melody again, and winter came to an end. Outside it grew warmer, birds returned from warm lands, snow melted, and snowdrops bloomed.
One day the maestro approached the window, opened it wide, and breathed in the spring air. Everything around was filled with the freshness of nature awakening from a long sleep. He stepped out onto the forest edge, admired the first flowers, and, returning home, sat down at the grand piano.
How beautiful spring is, my friend! How lovely is nature awakening from sleep! How wonderfully the birds sing, returning after the long winter to their native lands! And yet I might not have seen or heard any of this if you hadn't brought the doctor. Thank you! I will play you a beautiful melody in which all the charm of spring lives. So, Antonio Lucio Vivaldi, "The Four Seasons," "Spring."
After finishing, the maestro took out a few cranberries, dried back in autumn, from a small cupboard and handed them to the little mouse.
Here you are, my little saviour! Soon summer will come again. That's how the seasons change. Now you know how they sound. And each one has its own unique beauty, music, and fragrance. For some reason, I believe that in our lives there will be many more springs and winters, changing one after another, unchanging and in their turn…
And so the little mouse and the musician lived on the forest edge. The musician wrote his greatest melody. The little mouse rejoiced with all his heart and was proud of his friend.
Believe it or not, but that's how it was… Love of music bound the wonderful maestro and the little grey creature together with strong friendship.
