From Essai de grammaire vêpse, compiled by K. J. Ujfalvy (1875)

These are nine animal fables of the Veps — a Baltic-Finnic people of northwestern Russia whose language, now spoken by fewer than four thousand people, is a close cousin of Finnish and Estonian. The fables belong to the universal story-type found across Europe and the Near East: the bee that boasts, the dog that loses his meat to his own reflection, the mice who plan to bell the cat, the fox who tricks the wolf into freezing his tail in the river. Some descend from Aesop; others belong to the Baltic-Finnic and Russian folk tradition. All have been adapted into the rhythms and imagery of Veps rural life — the village, the river, the barn, the spring, the turnip-pit, the women coming to fetch water.

The fables were drawn from fieldwork data collected among the Veps of the Oyat and Sholtjärv districts by August Ahlqvist and Elias Lönnrot, and published by the Hungarian linguist Károly Jenő Ujfalvy (Charles-Eugène de Ujfalvy) in his Essai de grammaire vêpse ou Tchoude du Nord (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1875). No English translation of these fables has previously been published.

Translated from the Veps original via Ujfalvy's French intermediary. The Veps language belongs to the Finnic branch of the Uralic family; Finnish and Estonian serve as structural bridges for the translation.

I. The Bee and the Sheep

Mezjâine i Lambas

"Is there any creature among the animals who does you more good than we do?" asked the bee of the man. "There is," he said. "Who?" "The sheep — because his wool I need, while your honey is merely sweet to me."

Do you not wish to know another thing — why I count the sheep a greater benefactor than you, bee? The sheep gives me his wool without pain. But when you give me your honey, I must always still fear your sting.

II. The Eagle

Orl

They asked the eagle: "Why do you raise your young so high?"

The eagle said: "Could they approach the sun if I raised them below, on the ground?"

III. The Wild Rose

Kukôin-karangaine

"Tell me," asked the juniper of the wild rose, "why are you so greedy for the clothes of passing men? What do you want from them? What good are they to you?"

"No good at all," said the wild rose. "I do not want to take them from the man — I only want to tear them."

IV. The Sheep and the Swallow

Lambas i Jumalan-lindiine

The swallow settled upon the sheep, meaning to pluck a little wool for her nest. The sheep, annoyed, began to jump this way and that.

"How is this? Why are you toward me alone so stingy?" said the swallow. "You let the shepherd strip all your wool right down to the skin, but you refuse me a tiny tuft. Why do you do this?"

"I do it for this reason," said the sheep. "You cannot take my wool as gently as the shepherd can."

V. The Dog

Koir

A dog, holding a piece of meat he had snatched from the cook, leapt into the river to escape pursuit. He swims — he looks into the water — and he sees himself and his meat.

At once the desire seized him to possess that piece of meat too, and he opened his jaws to snatch it. But by this, both pieces vanished.

The glutton is never satisfied, and in this way he often loses even what he has.

VI. The Crane and the Fox

Kurg i Reboi

The crane stayed through the winter. The fox came and asked: "How do you live, crane?"

The crane said: "What of my life? I have nothing to eat."

The fox said: "Teach me to fly, crane, and I will feed you through the winter."

And so the fox fed the crane through the winter, and summer came. "Well," said the fox, "now teach me to fly!"

The crane said: "Sit on my back — I will teach you."

The fox sat. And the crane flew — flew — flew — flew upward — and there dropped the fox, who fell to the ground and broke his leg.

The crane descended and asked: "How did you find the flying, fox?"

"Good," said the fox. "But I broke my leg."

"Well," said the crane, "if you broke it, let it stay broken."

VII. The Duck and the Hen

Sors i Kana

The duck stayed through the winter. The hen asked: "How do you live, duck?"

The duck said: "I am dying of hunger — there is nothing to eat."

The hen said: "Teach me to swim, and I will feed you through the winter."

And so the hen fed the duck through the winter. Summer came.

"Now I will teach you," said the duck. "Follow me — we will catch smelts together."

The hen began to swim from the shore after the duck, and began to sink.

"Oh, duck — I am sinking!"

"If you sink, then sink."

"Oh, duck — I have sunk!"

"If you have sunk, then you have sunk."

And the hen drowned.

VIII. The Cat and the Mice

Kasji i Hired

In a village there lived a very great cat who ate all the mice. Wherever he found them, he caught and ate them. And the mice who remained gathered together in one place and held council: what should be done about the cat? The biggest mouse thought it over and spoke:

"Let us gather all our money, buy a bell, and tie it to the cat's neck. When he comes with the bell, we will hear him, and we can each escape."

The money was gathered and the bell was bought. But who among them would go and tie the bell to the cat's neck? Alone, no one dared. And if they went all together, the cat would eat them. No one dared go tie on the bell.

The mice lost their money for nothing, and the bell remained useless — for they had not thought beforehand that among them there would be no one who could tie it on.

Whatever work you wish to do, if you do not think it through beforehand, it will go as it did for the mice with their bell.

IX. The Man and the Fox

Musjik i Reboi

A man was driving along with fish — a half-barrel full of fish. He drove and drove. Near the road, on the snow, lay a fox stretched out full-length, pretending to be dead.

The man picked up the fox and, thinking it dead, placed it in the barrel with the fish and drove on. But the fox then took all the fish and threw them one by one along the road onto the snow. At last it escaped and set the barrel right again.

The man came home and said to his wife: "Wife, I went out and bought very cheap fish, and on the road I found a very large dead fox besides. Come and look!" They went and came to the barn and opened the barrel. In the barrel there was neither fox nor fish.

Meanwhile the fox, having thrown the fish on the road and escaped, went back and gathered all the fish along the road and carried them into a turnip-pit.

A wolf came by and asked the fox: "What are you eating, friend?"

"I am eating fish," said the fox.

The wolf asked: "Where did you get these fish?"

The fox said: "Oh, my friend — when I was in the village, I sat, I sat at the edge of a spring, and I put my tail into the spring and fished, and a great many fish stuck to my tail. Go too, friend, to the village — sit at the edge of the spring, put your tail in the water, and keep it there a long time. Even if the fish wriggle on your tail, do not pull it out!"

The wolf went and did as the fox had advised. He sat at the edge of the spring and put his tail in the water. Outside, a terrible frost. The wolf's tail froze in the spring, so that he could not pull it out. Women came to fetch water. They began to beat the wolf with poles — they beat him very hard. When the wolf at last escaped from the women, his tail stayed behind in the spring, torn off.

And while the women were at the spring, the fox went into their house. On the women's table stood a pot of kneaded dough. The fox devoured the dough, overturned the pot onto his own head, and went bounding back along the road toward the forest. On the road he came upon the wolf, who was running without a tail and howling.

The fox asked: "Where did you leave your tail, friend — since you no longer have one?"

The wolf began to reproach the fox: "You sent me to the village to sit at the spring's edge. When I sat there my tail froze in the water, and then the women came for water and beat me with poles nearly to death. I barely escaped alive."

The fox said to the wolf: "Look at me too, friend — they beat me the same way, when I came to the village to wait for you. Look — they nearly split my whole head open." And the fox showed the pot upon his head.

Colophon

These nine fables were collected from fieldwork data gathered among the Veps people of the Oyat and Sholtjärv districts of northwestern Russia by August Ahlqvist and Elias Lönnrot, and published by Károly Jenő Ujfalvy in his Essai de grammaire vêpse ou Tchoude du Nord (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1875), pp. 45–51. The Veps text was presented in bilingual format with French translation.

The English is translated from the Veps original using Ujfalvy's French as an interpretive bridge and Finnish/Estonian cognates as structural reference. No English translation of these fables has previously been published.

Good Works Translation by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Translated from the Veps of the Oyat dialect, as recorded by Ahlqvist and Lönnrot and published by Ujfalvy (1875).

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Source Text: Veps Original

Veps text from Ujfalvy, Essai de grammaire vêpse ou Tchoude du Nord (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1875), pp. 45–51. The Veps orthography reflects Ujfalvy's transcription conventions; diacritical marks (â, ô, û, etc.) indicate vowel quality. Two-column layout in the original: Veps on the left, French on the right. OCR artifacts have been cleaned where identifiable. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

I. Mezjâine i Lambas

— Omik elâid'e keskes kenni, ken enamba meid hûvut silei tegis'? — Kûzii mesjâine mehel. — Om, sanii n'etse. — A ken? — Lambas; siks' mis'e hânen vil milei pidab, a sinun mezi milei vaise maged.

Ëdik tahtôi t'eta tos't aziad, kudamt moto mina lugen lambhan enambaks hûvuden sâdajaks mil sinun, mezjâine? Lambas milei its'eze villan andab ilman vâsundata, a kons sina andad milei its'eis' meden, milei ûhtâi pidab vol varaita sinun n'okiid.

II. Orl

Kùzûtihe orlal: — Min tâhte bôtat sina its'eis' poigid muga korttas? Orl sanii: — Rohtitais'ikhô, kazvdud, lâhetaze pâivanno, kutab mina heid sôtais' in alahal mal?

III. Kukôin-karangaine

— Sanu milei, kûzii, kadag kukôin-karangais'el, — Miks' sina muga tuskav oled sirits'i mânijan mehen sobihe? Mida sina tahtôit sâta heis'? Mihe hô silei hùvad? — Ni mihe, sanii kukôin-karangaine; a mina muga en tahtôi rastta heid mehel, tahtôin vaise rebitada heid.

IV. Lambas i Jumalan-lindiine

Jumalan-lindiine is'tiihe lambhan pâle, mis'e rastta hânel vâhâis'en villad its'eze pezaks. Lambas savodi verdusiine hûpta sinna i t'ânna. — Kut? miite sina milei ûhtel muga skuup? Sanii jumalan-lindiine. Paimnele sina lazget otta its'esais' kaikennahkha-sai villan, a milei otkas'it pits'ukaises' klakiis'es. Miks' muga n'etsen sàdad? — N'etsen sàdansiks', sanii lambas, edmalta milai minun villad muga kebjàs otta kut paimen.

V. Koir

Koir pidaten su-palais'en lihad, kudaman hân tembais' povaral, hûppâstihe jôkehe, mis'e pasta kûksenduses; hân ujub, katsùb yetehe i n'âgob its'taze i lihan. Teravas langeni hânele ohvot i n'etsel lihal is'andann olda, i hân tahteli hvatta hamb. hil sen its'eleze, siid kadotihe molembad. Skup ni kons ei oie kûlâine i mugomal man'eral paksus kadotelob i sen, mi hanel om.

VI. Kurg i Reboi

Kurg jâi talveks, reboi tuli, kûsub: — Kut silei kurg elâda? — Kurg sanui: — Mi minun elâmises, kun milai ni-mitâ sômistei le. Reboi sanui: — Openda sa mintâi, kurg, lendmaha, ma sintâi sôtan talven. — Hân i sôti talven, i tuli kesâ, — no, sanui, openda lendmaha!

Kurg sanob: Istutehe selgha, ma sintâi opendan! Reboi istuihei n'etsâ kurg lent', lent', lent', lent' ûlâhaks, i sigâ jât' reboin, kudam langeis maha i katkais itsese jalgan. N'etsâ kurg laskihe maha i kûsub. — Kuitei silei, reboi, leta oli? — Hûvâ, sanob reboi, oli, a jalgan katkaisin. — No, sanui kurg, kun katkaisit, ka katkaida!

VII. Sors i Kana

Jâi sors talveks. Kana sanob: — Kut silei sors elâda? — Sors sanob: — Nâl'a kolen, soda ei le ni-mitâ. — N'etsâ kana sanui sorsale: — Openda sa mintâi ujumaha, ma sintâi talven sôtan. — Siit i sôti sorsat talven. Tegihe kesâ, — nùgûide opendan, sanui sors, astu samai ûhtes ràpusuden. — N'etsâ kana ujuskans sorsan jâlghe rannas-pâi i uptaskans. — Oi sors uptan. — Hot uptat, ka sa upta! — Oi sors upsin! — Hot upsit, muga upsit. — Hân i uppois kana.

VIII. Kasji i Hired

D'erevn'as oli kas'ji uhtei suur kudam kaikit hirit sôôb; kus lôûtab, siit i tabadab i sôôb. I n'ene hired, kudamod lapud jâtihe, k'eraisihe sei kaik ûhlhe saijhai ussovétitehe, mi n'etsile, kas'jile t'ehta, i kaikis tobjin hiir se dumai i pagisob: — K'erakkamai mô kaikin d'engoit, ostkamai kellon i sidokamai n'etsile kas'jile kaglaha; kun hân tuleskandobkellon ked, muga mô kulistamai i kaik pagenemai. — D'engad hô k'eratihe i kellon ostetihe, a ken heis n'etsân sidoskandob kas'jile kellon kaglaha; ûksin eba rohtkoi. i hot kaigin, màntas, hân n'etsâ kasji heit sôôb. Kellot ei rohtitud ni-ken mànta sidomaha. Hiril d'engad mântihe uhtei, kel muitei jâi, kun edelpài ei dumaitud, mis'e, heis sidojitei le. Mitt'e tahtot raat, kun edelpâi et dumai, kâvub kut hiril kellon sidont.

IX. Musjik i Reboi

Mus'jik ajoi kalan ked, kalat lats' tàûs. Ajoi, ajoi, dorogan laptas lûmes venub reboi. Hân, reboi, heitanusei muitei koolojaks. Mus'jik ot' n'etsàn reboin i dumai, rai-s'e hân kolij, pani kalalats'hu, ajab dorogat mote. A reboi sigà-pâi ot' kalan kaigen i rojib dorogat mote lumele. Use pageni jâlgmâiseks i lats'un mööst entseks katei. Mus'jik tuli kotihe, itsese akale sanob: — Mina, ak, olin i ostin odvad uhtei kalad, i vol dorogal lôùsin suren uhtei reboin kooljan, astu katsuhtamaha! — Mântihe i tultihe saraile, avaitihe, lats'un, lats'us ei leent ni reboit ni kalat.

N'etsâ reboi, kut oli kalad dorogale rojint i itse uîdint, mâni, kalan kaigen dorogat mote kerâis i vôi n'etsân kalan nagriskoopha. Tuli sihe hândikas, kûsub reboil: — Min sinâ komaine sôôt? — Reboi sanob: — Sôôn mina kalat. — Hândikas môôst kûsub hànel: — Kus otit sa n'etsân kalan? — Reboi pagis': — Oi sie komaine, sie komaine, mina kun olin d'erevn'as, i istuimoi, istuimoi lâhtken reunale, i hàndan sinnepââstin lâhtkehe, i ongitin kalat, i hàndha tartui uhtei ai kalat, sen mina i sôôn. Mâneske i sinâ, komaine, d'erevn'ahan, istte lâhtken reunale, hànd pââsta lâhtkehe i pidà sigà hàtk uhtei! Hot hô kalat liikuteltais bandas, sinâ bandât ala ota!

Mâni hândikas, mugai radoi, kut reboi nevoi, istuihe lâhtken reunale, hàndan pââst lâhtkehe. I irdal suur uhtei pakaine, i hândikahal handan lâhtkehe kûlmi, mis'e agjal hàndat ei voi otta. Naised tultihe vedele i otettihe hândikast korondoil panta ilôtihe hândast uhtei jalos. Hândikas kun akois pageni, hànd lâhtkehe jài, sinne katteis. Kunin'ene akad oltihe vedel, n'etsà reboi tuli naisten perthe, i naisil stolal kûrsit segoitetud patha; n'etsàn reboi raasmestan soi, i padan kumois itselese pâha, i jookseskans môôst dorogat môte metsha. I dorogal homais hân hândikaham, kudam jooksob hândata i vongub. Reboi hànel kûsui: — Handan kuna sinâ jâtit, komaine kun silai hândat ei le? — N'etsà hândikas reboilep'enitseskans: — Sa mintai kàskit d'erevn'aha isttase lâhtken reunale, mina kuin istuimoi, i handan milai lâhtkehe kûlmi, i sil aigal tultihe naised vedele i mintai lôtihe korondoil pool surmha-sai, otva itse uidin. N'etsà reboi sanui hândikahale: — I mintai katsoske, komaine, muga-s'je lôôthe, kun mina tulin sintai d'erevn'aha vardeitsemaha; katso milai pàân murettihe kaigen.

Source Colophon

Veps text from Ujfalvy, Károly Jenő (Charles-Eugène de Ujfalvy), Essai de grammaire vêpse ou Tchoude du Nord (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1875), pp. 45–51. Based on fieldwork data of A. Ahlqvist and E. Lönnrot among the Veps of the Oyat and Sholtjärv districts. The Veps language belongs to the Finnic branch of the Uralic language family; the Oyat dialect was spoken in the Oyat River district of what is now the Vologda and Leningrad Oblasts of northwestern Russia. Minor OCR artifacts from the digitized source have been silently corrected where identifiable; some corruption may remain, particularly in diacritical marks. Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.

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