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With great difficulty, like a dream, the girl took her first step, one she had practiced at the ballet barre that was not even yet a dance. Death was standing in front of her, an enigmatic but still certain, horrible, incredible fact. Aska was not thinking anything.

Aska i vuk

No sheep from a good family had ever followed such a path, and so on. Her last movement would only be dance. Aja gave Aska firm advice and strong rebukes, andri teach her the many risks of this sort of behavior in a neighborhood like theirs, where always runs some cunning and bloodthirsty wolf, the kind of wolf that does not fear the shepherds and kills ewes and their young, especially when they splinter off and asoa about.

The forest echoed, and frightened birds flung down the dry leaves. She knew but one thing: They, though, did not have to go far. She then repeated the steps, fearing that she might lose Weight Exercise some power and beauty by repeating them.

The wounded wolf had only enough strength to walk a hundred steps while his wound ajdric still fresh. She wondered what, after all, could be so wrong with art?

And that was the limit of her knowledge and skills.

Along with this, the girl was as innocent and as vhk as anyone could wish. One of them had only an old bludgeon, but a stout one, and the other carried a rifle, if we could even call it that. This way I will not only have her blood and her meat but also have her strange, amusing, crazy, wild dance, a dance I have never seen before.


Thinking like this, the wolf followed the lamb, stopping when she stopped and moving whenever she speeded up the movements of the dance. The cagey, cool, and proverbially wary wolf, who was afraid of neither people nor animals, was at first surprised.

This reconciliation became even easier when little Aska showed a great gift and aptitude for dance as she progressed.

And once she started to move, she continued to repeat just the same steps with the horrible feeling that she must not stop because if she allowed just a brief interval between her steps, death would surely enter through this small opening. And in vain she tried andriv remember something more that she could do to overcome the event that awaited her at the end.

Aska i vuk by Ivo Andrić | LibraryThing

The ways of art were dubious, deceptive, and hard, and dancing was the hardest and most deceptive of arts, even a disreputable and dangerous one. At first, her mother strongly opposed the idea, providing many reasons against it, each one more convincing than the last. For his victim, there were strange, unexpected moments, somewhere between mortal horror into which she had entered and the unbearable, bloody, final fact hidden behind the word, death.

They went along a trail of green grass and rich pasture as their best bet. Her steps were short and quick but still unable to fill the time that was standing by like the emptiness with which death continuously beckoned. Aja sharply admonished her otherwise well-behaved, intelligent, and beautiful daughter.

This is how the well-meaning, worried mother spoke to Aska.

Aska and the Wolf

In time, Aska felt better and even became an obedient daughter and fine student, and with time the prima ballerina on the Sloping Meadows. The wolf waited and watched, and he started to come closer, and in front of her all doors to classical ballet were closing and the voice of her teacher became more and more faint, eventually disappearing.

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But her abilities and knowledge were limited to just that. That day Aska was very happy and very carefree. It seemed to her that this ifo with its uncountable number of remarkable experiences had no end.

Still today, after many years, this famous ballet is performed on stage where art and the will to resist prevail over all evils, even death.

Ivo Andric – Aska i Vuk by Jasmin Jusuf Jusufović | Free Listening on SoundCloud

They easily finished him off. The back of his body was now completely deadened, but he pawed the ground with his front legs, rolling his head and baring his fangs. And so on, one step after another, and another, but each one entirely new and exciting, promising yet another, still even more exciting step, Aska passed from one field to another, through one clearing to another, into dark forests, and under damp passages between vhk trees covered with huge, mature leaves.


Over the green meadow, through tight passages, between grey, hard beech trees and above the smooth and brown carpet of leaves that fall year after year in layers, Aska, the lamb, danced, no longer a lamb, not yet a ewe, light and lively, like white milkweed carried by the wind, becoming grayish when she entered a patch of fog, becoming abaze like a stage show when she entered a meadow covered by sun.

I can tear her apart at any moment, whenever I would like. She performed newer and newer figures, figures that no school and no ballet teacher had ever before imagined. They stopped and were silent.