What Happens to the Old Moons?

One evening the village children gathered around Nasreddin Hodja. A thin crescent moon, like a bow, was shining in the sky. One of the children asked: "Hodja, every month a new moon rises. So what happens to the old moon? What do they do with the old moons?"

The Hodja looked up at the sky and stroked his beard. The children waited eagerly. Then the Hodja began to explain, quite seriously:

"Children, the old moon gets used up; it fades and grows thin. The tailors of the sky take that old moon. With a big pair of scissors they snip it and snip it into tiny little pieces. And those pieces become stars. Look, that's why there are so many stars in the sky. Every used-up moon becomes a thousand stars."

The children's eyes grew wide. One of them pointed at the stars in the sky: "So is that bright star a piece of last month's moon?" "Of course," said the Hodja. "It's a piece cut from the very edge of last month's moon."

Another child asked: "But Hodja, where do they get the new moon from?" The Hodja thought for a moment: "The new moon? The bakers of the sky bake it fresh every month. First they roll it out thin like dough, just like that crescent. Then every night they let it rise a little more, and after fifteen days it becomes a big, round full moon. Then it grows thin again, gets snipped up again, and becomes stars again."

The children laughed, but they loved this story too. The smallest of them climbed onto the Hodja's lap: "Hodja, I want to be a star one day." The Hodja stroked his head: "You're already a star, my boy. A star shining in your mother's and father's sky."

That night, when the children went home, they counted the stars from their windows. Each of them chose a star for himself. Tonight, you look out of your window too; maybe a piece of the old moon is winking at you. Now close your eyes and fly off among the stars.