1) Version in English

Three brothers were the hail. One of the brothers was lame, another was blind, and the third brother was sound. The mother of the three brothers was a ragged little old woman, dressed in yellow.

One day a mail carrier went on a trip. He walked two, three, four days. One nightfall caught him on a silent plain. In the darkness he could not find any shelter; he looked for a house in which to protect himself from the weather. Then in the distance he saw a light shining. And he turned his steps in that direction, thinking that the light must be shining in some house. "There must be a barnyard there," he said to himself, while walking.

When he reached the place, he found two huts, one beside the other. The little old woman was seated by the door. It was the mother of the hail. The man spoke to her:

"Little mother of mine, give me shelter."

"Very well, I will give you shelter." replied the little old woman.

The little old woman was cooking for her three sons in several huge pots.

"Come in, sir." she said, inviting the traveler in.

The man entered the hut. Then the little old woman said to him:

"Now my sons are coming. What shall I tell them, what shall I do? They are very wicked; they will kill you if they find you."

At that moment the hail was thundering on the horizon, "Tunrún... tunrún...", just as when it announces a storm.

The little old woman spoke:

"One of my sons is lame, another is blind, the other is sound. The lame one and the blind one are wicked. They are not afraid to kill anyone. If they find you they will kill you. Just sit in the corner, just in the corner."

And she served him some broth in a huge bowl. The man began to take the broth. Huge pieces of meat were in the bowl, meat from all kinds of animals. The man ate. He was very hungry, but the food did not fill him up; on the contrary, it made him hungrier. This was because the hail had killed the animals and the people which he found on the roads. And this was the meat which he brought to his mother to cook. Accursed meat which did not satisfy the hunger of anyone.

While the man was eating, the hail went on sounding, each time closer: "Tunrún... tunrún..." It circled the hut, it dragged around the hut; already its cold drops were pounding the door.

"Hurry, hurry, finish eating!" cried the little old woman.

The man ate up the food quickly.

The hail shook the door, danced with fury: "Tunrún... tunrún..."

The woman asked her guest:

"Do you have any kkañiwa* flour?

The man gave her his cold lunch made of kkañiwa*. Then the little old woman covered the man with an earthenware pot. The three brothers, the hail, arrived, they entered the hut next door, one after the other. The little old woman brought them supper. And she warned the mail carrier:

"Now they will smell your scent."

Soon the voice of one of them was heard:

"Mother, there's a strange smell. Where does it come from?"

"I don't know." answered the little old woman. "There's nothing here."

But they asked again:

"Mother, tell us where that smell is coming from."

"It must be this, it must be this that smells like that." said the little old woman. And she went to the brothers' hut carrying the bag of kkañiwa*.

"Oh! Wonderful! This is the sweet we were wanting!" cried the three. And they ate the kkañiwa* flour.

Then the hail, the three brothers, lay down to sleep. The man, too, fell asleep.

But the mail carrier slept till very late. When he awoke, the sun was high. He woke up and looked around him. The huts, the little old woman and the hail had disappeared. And he saw that he had been sleeping on the edge of a quagmire. He stood up and began to walk. There was nothing, only the silent plain.

*kkañiwa - a cereal which only grows at high altitude