A small bridge crossed the river.
It was made of bamboo.
It was very narrow.
When you stepped on it, it swayed.
Below the bridge was water.
The water never stopped running.
The little bear wanted to go home.
To go home, he had to cross the bridge.
He stood at the near end.
He put one foot out.
The bridge swayed once.
He pulled his foot back.
Then he put it out again.
He remembered crossing this bridge before.
That time the sun was up.
That time he was not afraid.
He stepped into the middle.
The bridge swayed once more.
His heart jumped.
He stopped still.
He called: Mama, Mama.
His mother was on the far side.
She said: I am here.
She said: walk on.
The little bear was afraid.
He looked down at the water.
The water was rushing.
It was loud.
It sounded like laughing.
That made him more afraid.
He wanted to go back.
But behind him the bridge swayed too.
Then a small carp jumped up.
The carp said: do not look down.
The carp said: look straight ahead.
The carp said: one step, then one more.
The little bear took a deep breath.
His mother had said: hold the side rail.
He reached out for the bamboo rail.
The bamboo was cool.
He looked at the far bank.
His mother was there.
One step.
Then one more.
He counted his steps as he went.
One.
Two.
Three.
The bridge still swayed.
But he walked on, step by step.
His mother watched from the far bank.
She did not rush him.
He reached the last bamboo pole.
He jumped onto the bank.
He ran into his mother.
She patted his head.
When he reached the bank, his legs felt weak.
Then they felt fine again.
He turned and looked back.
The bridge was still swaying gently.
It was the same bridge.
He laughed.
He thought: it was not so hard after all.
He looked back for the carp.
The carp had already swum away.
The carp waved its tail below the bridge.
It said: you see? You made it.
The little bear said: thank you.
Slowly the sky turned dark.
The evening wind came up.
Small ripples crossed the river.
The little bear reached home.
His mother brought him a bowl of warm soup.
The soup was warm in his hands.
He drank it slowly.
The soup was hot.
The house was warm.
His mother lit the little lamp.
The wick caught, and the room turned gold.
The little bear climbed into bed.
He thought about how scared he had been.
Now it almost made him laugh.
He told his mother about the carp.
She smiled and said nothing.
Outside, the river still ran.
Hush.
Hush.
Very soft.
A while ago it sounded like laughing.
Now it sounded like singing.
Outside, the bamboo bridge still swayed.
Nobody was on it now.
It swayed all by itself.
The little bear listened and listened.
The river kept its one soft sound.
It went on and on and on.
He thought of the far bank.
He thought of the cool bamboo rail.
He thought about the carp.
He hoped it was sleeping too.
The bridge was just a bridge.
It had always been just a bridge.
The water was just water.
It had never been laughing at him.
The wind moved through the bamboo.
It made a small hollow sound.
His mother sat by the bed.
She hummed something soft.
The little bear pulled up his blanket.
His eyes grew heavy.
The lamp was turned down low.
The room was dark and warm.
The bear did not hear the end of it.
He was already asleep.
Outside, the river ran on.
The bridge swayed in the dark.
Ripples moved across the river.
Moonlight sat on top of them.
Somewhere a fish jumped and fell back.
The sound was small and round.
The night was quiet and kind.
In China, children learn a little song about the small bear and the wobbly bamboo bridge.
That is the old story of The Little Bear Crosses the Bridge.
This is an old Chinese folktale.
It is a gentle Chinese fairy tale, and one of the oldest Chinese bedtime stories for children.
Now it is time to close your eyes.
Good night, brave little bear.
Good night, little carp in the river.
This is a very old Chinese bedtime story. It is not long, and it is very gentle. Best read slowly, with the lights low.
