Chinese traditional 75CM

Brocade China


Book cover: Folktales on StageNARRATOR 1: Once in China there lived an old widow and her son, Chen. The widow was known all over for the brocades that she made on her loom.

NARRATOR 4: Weaving threads of silver, gold, and colored silk into her cloth, she made pictures of flowers, birds, and animals—

NARRATOR 2: pictures so real they seemed almost alive.

NARRATOR 3: People said there were no brocades finer than the ones the widow wove.

NARRATOR 1: One day, the widow took a pile of brocades to the marketplace, where she quickly sold them. Then she went about buying her household needs.

NARRATOR 4: All at once she stopped.

WIDOW: Oh, my!

NARRATOR 2: Her eye had been caught by a beautiful painted scroll that hung in one of the stalls.

NARRATOR 3: It showed a marvelous palace, all red and yellow and blue and green, reaching delicately to the sky. All around were fantastic gardens, and walking through them, the loveliest maidens.

NARRATOR 1: The stall keeper asked,

STALL KEEPER: Do you like it? It’s a painting of Sun Palace. They say it lies far to the east and is the home of many fairy ladies.

WIDOW: (sighs) It’s wonderful. It makes me want to be there. (pays and takes it)

NARRATOR 4: Though it cost most of her money, the widow could not resist buying the scroll.

NARRATOR 2: When she got back to her cottage, she showed it to her son.

WIDOW: Look, Chen. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful? How I would love to live in that palace, or at least visit it!

NARRATOR 3: Chen looked at her thoughtfully.

CHEN: Mother, why don’t you weave the picture as a brocade? That would be almost like being there.

WIDOW: Why, Chen, what a marvelous idea! I’ll start at once.

NARRATOR 1: She set up her loom and began to weave.

NARRATOR 4: She worked for hours, then days, then weeks, barely stopping to eat or sleep. Her eyes grew bloodshot, and her fingers raw.

CHEN: (anxiously) Mother, shouldn’t you get more rest?

WIDOW: Oh, Chen, it’s so hard to stop. While I weave, I feel like I’m there at Sun Palace. And I don’t want to come away!

NARRATOR 2: Because the widow no longer wove brocades to sell, Chen cut firewood and sold that instead.

NARRATOR 3: Months went by, while inch by inch the pattern appeared on the loom.

NARRATOR 1: One day, Chen came in to find the loom empty and the widow sobbing.

CHEN: (in alarm) What’s wrong, Mother?

NARRATOR 4: She looked at him tearfully.

WIDOW: (plaintively) I finished it.

NARRATOR 2: The brocade was laid out on the floor. And there it all was—the palace reaching to the sky, the beautiful gardens, the lovely fairy ladies.

CHEN: (in amazement) It looks so real. I feel like I could step into it!

NARRATOR 3: Just then, a sudden wind whipped through the cottage. It lifted the brocade, blew it out the window, and carried it through the air.

NARRATOR 1: The widow and her son rushed outside, only to watch the brocade disappear into the east.

WIDOW: It’s gone!

NARRATOR 4: And the widow fainted away.

NARRATOR 2: Chen carried her to her bed and sat beside her for many hours.

NARRATOR 3: At last her eyes opened.

WIDOW: (weakly) Chen, you must find the brocade and bring it back. I cannot live without it.

CHEN: Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll go at once.

NARRATOR 1: Chen gathered a few things and started to the east.

NARRATOR 4: He walked for hours, then days, then weeks. But there was no sign of the brocade.

NARRATOR 2: One day, Chen came upon a lonely hut.

NARRATOR 3: Sitting by the door was an old, leather-skinned woman smoking a pipe. A horse was grazing nearby.

OLD WOMAN: Hello, deary. What brings you so far from home?

CHEN: I’m looking for my mother’s brocade. The wind carried it to the east.

OLD WOMAN: Ah, yes. The brocade of Sun Palace! Well, that wind was sent by the fairy ladies of the palace itself. They’re using the brocade as a pattern for their weaving.

CHEN: But my mother will die without it!

OLD WOMAN: Well, then, you had best get it back! But you won’t get to Sun Palace by foot, so you’d better ride my horse. It will show you the way.

CHEN: Thank you!

OLD WOMAN: Oh, don’t thank me yet, deary. Between here and there, you must pass through the flames of Fiery Mountain. If you make a single sound of complaint, you’ll be burnt to ashes. After that, you must cross the Icy Sea. The smallest word of discontent, and you’ll be frozen solid. (with a hard look) Do you still want to go?

CHEN: (daunted yet determined) I must get back my mother’s brocade.

OLD WOMAN: (approvingly) Good boy. Take the horse and go.

NARRATOR 1: Chen climbed on, and the horse broke into a gallop. Before long they came to a mountain all on fire.



Share this article





Related Posts



Latest Posts
Made of silk
Made of silk
This isn t science fiction, you know…
Flower Printed Fabric
Flower Printed…
Tired of hauling an unwieldy paper poster…
Nylon Lycra Spandex
Nylon Lycra Spandex
Wolford Velvet de Luxe 66 Consider the…
Does viscose crease
Does viscose…
Fabrics Almost all the fabrics we use…
Woven Knit
Woven Knit
For the last few seasons, I have been…
Search
Featured posts
  • Animal Print Fabric for Upholstery
  • Modern Upholstery Fabrics Online
  • Cotton Velvet Upholstery Fabric By The Yard
  • Cotton Duck Upholstery Fabric
  • Retro Upholstery
  • Vintage Inspired Upholstery Fabric
  • Stretch Upholstery Fabric
  • Nylon Upholstery Fabric
  • Linen blend Upholstery Fabric
Copyright © 2024 l www.xinlongtex.com. All rights reserved.