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Leite Milis

Sweet Porridge

Fadó fadó bhí cailín beag bocht álainn a bhí ina cónaí lena mháthair amháin, agus níorbh faic ar bith le n-ithe acu a thuilleadh. Mar sin, chuaigh an chailín beag isteach ins an fhoraois, agus bhuail sí le sean-bhean ann a raibh eolas aici faoi brón an chailínín, agus mar sin thug an sean-bhean phota beag di, agus nuair a dúirt sí “Cócaráil dom a photín, cócaráil dom”, cócaráilfeadh an phota leite deas milis, agus nuair a dúirt sí “Stop anois, a photín”, stopáilfeadh an phota beag a chócaráil.

There was a poor but good little girl who lived alone with her mother, and they no longer had anything to eat. So the child went into the forest, and there an aged woman met her who was aware of her sorrow, and presented her with a little pot, which when she said, “Cook, little pot, cook,” would cook good, sweet porridge, and when she said, “Stop, little pot,” it ceased to cook.

Thóg an chailín beag an phota draíochta abhaile chuigh a máthair, agus bhíodar ansin saor ó bheith bocht agus ocrasach, agus d’ith said leite milis cé comh minic agus is mhaith leo.

The girl took the pot home to her mother, and now they were freed from their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet porridge as often as they chose.

Am amháin, nuair a raibh an chailín taréis dul amach ag spraoi, dúirt a máthair, “Cócaráil dom a photín, cócaráil dom”. Agus chócaráil sé, agus d’ith sí go dtí go raibh a bolg lán le leite milis, ach nuair a raibh sí ag iarraidh an phota beag a stopáil níorbh na focail draíochta ar eolas aici. Mar sin, chuaigh sé ar aghaidh ag cócaráil agus d’ardaigh an leite thar imeall an phota, agus cócaráil sé fós go dtí go raibh an cistin agus an teach ar fad líonta leis an leite, agus an chéád teach eile, agus an teach eile, agus ansin an sráid ar fad, ar nós go raibh an phota ag iarraidh leite milis a thabhairt chuigh gach aon duine ar domhain, bhí eagla ollmhór ar gach duine sa bhaile beag – níorbh duine ar bith ábailte stop a chuir leis an phota.

Once on a time when the girl had gone out, her mother said, “Cook, little pot, cook.” And it did cook and she ate till she was satisfied, and then she wanted the pot to stop cooking, but did not know the word. So it went on cooking and the porridge rose over the edge, and still it cooked on until the kitchen and whole house were full, and then the next house, and then the whole street, just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world, and there was the greatest distress, but no one knew how to stop it.

Ar deireadh, nuair a raibh fiú ach teach amháin fágtha, tháinig an chailín beag abhaile agus dúirt sí, “Stop anois a photín!”, agus faoi deireadh stop sé a chócaráil, agus aon duine a bhí ag iarradh teacht thar n-ais chuigh an bhaile beag, bhí orthu ithe tríd an leite milis go léir!

At last when only one single house remained, the child came home and just said, “Stop, little pot,” and it stopped and gave up cooking, and whosoever wished to return to the town had to eat their way back.


Síscéal Gearmánach. As ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ leis na Dearthaireacha Grimm. 1812.


A German fairy tale. From ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales’ by the Brothers Grimm. 1812.