The Ugly Duckling - Danish

The sun felt warm on my feathers, but the farmyard always felt a little cold to me. My name is... well, for a long time, I didn't have a proper one, but you might know my story as The Ugly Duckling. I hatched from my egg last, and right from the start, I knew I was different. My brothers and sisters were small, fluffy, and yellow, perfect little ducklings. I, however, was big, gray, and my feet always seemed to trip over each other. The other ducks would quack mean things at me, and the chickens would peck my feathers when I walked by. Even the big, puffy-chested turkey gobbled that I was too ugly to be on their farm. My own mother would look at me and sigh, wishing I looked like her other children. I felt so lonely, like a gray cloud in a bright blue sky. I knew I couldn't stay in a place where no one wanted me, so I decided to find a new home.

So, one sad morning before the sun was fully awake, I waddled away from the farm. I pushed through tall, scratchy reeds and swam in lonely ponds, always searching for a place where I might belong. The world was so big and sometimes very scary. I met some wild ducks, but they just told me I was too ugly and flew away. Then, as autumn painted the leaves red and gold, I saw the most amazing sight. A flock of beautiful birds flew overhead. They were pure white with long, elegant necks, and they soared through the sky with such grace. They were flying south for the winter. Oh, how I wished I could be so beautiful and free. The winter was the hardest time of all. The pond I was living in started to freeze, and soon I was stuck in the ice, shivering and frightened. A kind farmer found me and broke the ice. He carried me home to his warm house, but his children were so loud and playful that I got scared. I flew right into a pail of milk, splashing it everywhere. In the confusion, I escaped back into the cold, spending the rest of the winter hiding in a marsh, dreaming of the sun and those magnificent white birds.

When spring finally melted the last of the ice, the world felt new and full of hope. I felt different, too. My wings were big and powerful. I could fly higher and faster than ever before. One day, I flew to a beautiful garden with a sparkling lake. And there they were. The same magnificent white birds I had seen in the autumn were swimming gracefully on the water. I decided I had to get closer, even if they chased me away. I was so tired of being alone. I swam toward them and bowed my head, expecting them to be unkind. But as I looked down, I saw my own reflection in the clear water. I gasped. I wasn't a clumsy, gray, ugly duckling anymore. I was a swan. My feathers were brilliant white, and my neck was long and elegant, just like theirs. The other swans swam over to me, nuzzling me with their beaks. They welcomed me. I had found my family.

A Story That Still Soars
My story was written down a long, long time ago, on November 11th, 1843, by a wonderful writer from Denmark named Hans Christian Andersen. He understood what it felt like to be different and wanted to share a special message. This story reminds everyone that what's on the inside is what truly matters, and that sometimes it just takes a little while to grow into the amazing person you are meant to be. It teaches us to be kind to everyone, because you never know the beautiful swan someone might become. Even today, my story flies around the world, inspiring people to believe in themselves and to know that everyone, no matter how different they seem, deserves to find their flock and feel at home.