Prvo svjetlo u selu

Kasno navečer, selo je tamno i tiho. Svaka kuća spava. Ulice su prazne, a prozori crni. Ali na jednoj maloj ulici gori jedno jedino svjetlo. Dolazi iz prozora pekarnice, jedinog mjesta budnog u cijelom usnulom gradiću.

Late at night, the village is dark and quiet. Every house is asleep. The streets are empty, and the windows are black. But on one small street there is a single light. It comes from the window of the bakery, the only place awake in the whole sleeping town.

Tri je sata ujutro, a pekar je već na poslu. Pali veliku peć i hrani je drvima dok ne zasja. Brašno lebdi u zraku, a para se diže dok prvi kruhovi ulaze unutra. Topli miris svježeg kruha počinje puniti dućan. Polako izlazi kroz vrata i niz praznu ulicu, gdje još nitko nije budan da ga primijeti.

It is three in the morning, and the baker is already at work. He lights the big oven and feeds it wood until it glows. Flour floats in the air, and steam rises as the first loaves go in. The warm smell of fresh bread begins to fill the shop. Slowly, it drifts out the door and down the empty street, where no one is awake yet to notice it.

Do šest sati ujutro, selo počinje buditi se. Ljudi otvaraju oči uz miris toplog kruha. Hodaju do pekarnice, gdje je svjetlo gorjelo cijelu noć, i pronalaze police pune svježih kruhova. Pekar im pruža kruh umornim, sretnim očima. Njegova duga noć postaje topao, mekan početak dana za sve ostale.

By six in the morning, the village starts to wake. People open their eyes to the smell of warm bread. They walk to the bakery, where the light has been on all night, and they find the shelves full of fresh loaves. The baker hands them their bread with tired, happy eyes. His long night becomes the warm, soft start of everyone else's day.