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Long, long ago, / a poor but honest woodcutter / and his sickly wife / lived near
the forest.
The man worked very hard cutting firewood / in the forest, / and sold it in town.
But he could hardly pay for his wife's medicine.
One late afternoon, / when the sun was slowly sinking in the sky, /
he was still working with his ax / right by the lake in the forest.
One more swing / and the tree would be split, / and then, / he thought, /
he could go home. But the last swing of the ax / missed its landing on the tree.
It flew swiftly through the trees / and fell into the small lake. “Splash.”
The ax disappeared immediately into the water.
He rushed to the edge of the lake, / and knelt down / to look into the water /
where his ax had fallen. How disappointed he was / to lose it!
An old, very ordinary iron ax, / but no spot of rust / was there /
since he'd sharpened it / every after work.
It was a precious ax for him / to support his living.
He heaved a deep sigh / and mumbled, /
“That's the only ax / I have. I can't work any more / without it.
What shall I do?”
Just then / a mist came from the water. A shimmering soul appeared from it.
He was wide-eyed with astonishment / to see her.
“Oh, don't afraid of me. I am the Spirit of the Lake.
You look so sad. What's happened?”/ she asked.
“I've just lost my ax. It was the only ax / I had.
I can't work / without it,” / he answered weakly.
“Oh dear! That must be a big problem for you.
All right, / maybe I can help you,”/
she said sympathetically, / then plunged into the water.
A few minutes later / she reappeared / with an ax in her hands.
“Is this ax yours?” / she asked. It was a glittering golden ax.
“No, no. It's not mine,” / / he looked disappointed,
“mine isn't a golden ax.”
“Well then, / wait a moment,” / saying this, /
the Spirit of the Lake dived again.
Soon she emerged / with a silver ax in her hands.
“Now look at this. It must be yours.”
“Sorry, it's not my ax, either.
Mine is an ordinary iron ax / with a wooden handle.
It's not a glittery one / like that, /
but it's good enough for me / to cut trees.
Oh, I wish I had it again!” / he said hopelessly.
The Spirit of the Lake dived into the water again.
When she came back, / she had the iron ax / in her hands.
As soon as he looked at it, / his face lit up.
“Oh, that one's mine. My old ax. What a relief!
I can't thank you enough,” / he cried.
“Thanks to your help, I've regained my old ax. How happy I am!
But it's started getting dark. It's time to return home. Thank you again.”
“Wait, wait a minute,” /
the Spirit of the Lake made the woodcutter stop walking off, /
and dived into the water again, / but soon came up with the two axes, /
the golden one and the silver one in her arms.
“You are a very rare honest man.
Your honesty and sincerity / moved me a great deal.
I'll give you these two axes.”
“Are you giving me the golden and silver axes? Why, thank you, thanks a lot.”
“And if you were granted one wish, / what would it be?” / she asked.
“Nothing---um, / to tell the truth, /
I have a sick wife / who's been in bed / for years.
I do hope / she'll get well / as she used to be.
That's the only wish / I have.”
When he came home, / he found / that his wife was preparing dinner,
/ singing merrily.
It looked like / she'd completely recovered from her illness.
The husband showed her the beautiful axes / he brought, /
and told her how he'd gotten them. Needless to say, /
they spent a very happy night.
（中略）
“You, liar! I hate such dishonest people.
You can't have your own ax, either,”/
no sooner had she said that / than she plunged into the water, /
and never emerged again.
The greedy dishonest man went home, / dejected in his heart.
He failed to get the golden ax.
Not only that, / he lost his own ax, either.
How would he be able to work / without his ax / from then on?
Feeling entirely lost, / he trudged home.
When he was about to open the front door, / he heard his wife groaning.
He was puzzled, / since she had been as fit as a fiddle.
Timidly he opened the door.
His wife, / who was crouching down there, / told him / that she'd broken her leg.
Enduring the pain, / she continued telling him / when it'd happened.
It seemed like / she'd broken her leg / at the same time /
that he'd said to the Spirit of the Lake, /
“Oh, yes. That's the ax I lost. Thank you very much.”
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