(Note: the tale is published in the original translation by Elek Benedek.)
Once upon a time there was an old goat and his seven little goat-goats (goat-goats - ed.). The old goat loved his kids, of course he did.
He was always with them, never leaving them for a moment, lest something should happen to them, but once the grass ran out, they would have eaten and there was nothing left: the old goat had to go out to the meadow to get grass. But before he left, he tied the seven goat-goats to his heart:
- Do you hear, I'm going to the meadow, but be careful not to let the wolf in if he comes here, for I tell you, he'll eat you alive. A wicked beast, said the old goat. To deceive you, he'll put on other skins, but you must not believe him: you'll know him by his rough voice and black feet, but beware.
Said the goats:
- Don't worry a bit, my good mother. No wolf and wolf-man will come in here.
The old goat went away, but before he had even left the village, the wolf-wolf came and knocked on the door of the barn:
- Open up, my sweet sons, I have come home and brought you a little green grass, a little leafy branch.
But the goat-herds knew the wolf by his harsh, hoarse voice and cried out:
- We certainly won't open the door, because you are not our sweet mother. Our mother has a sweet voice, and yours is so harsh and hoarse. You are a wolf, not a goat!
- Well, well, grumbled the wolf-wolf to himself, but the little goats are clever. But just you wait, I'll outwit your wits. He went to the shop, bought a big piece of chalk, ate it and suddenly his voice got all muffled. Then he went back to the barn and knocked on the door again:
- Open, my sons, my soul, I have brought you a little green grass, a little leafy branch.
But the wolf found his foot on the window of the barn, and the goat-goats cried out:
- We certainly won't open the door, because our mother doesn't have black feet like you. You are a wolf, not a goat!
- 'Oh, so and so gave it to me,' growled the wolf, 'stop right there! My legs are not going to be black.
He ran to the baker and told him that he had hurt his leg, all four of them, and that he should wrap them in dough.
The baker took pity on the wolf-wolf, wrapped all four legs in dough, and then the wolf-wolf ran to the miller and asked him for flour.
- "No," said the miller, "you're up to no good, you wolf-man.
- "If you don't, I'll eat you alive," threatened the wolf.
The miller was frightened by the wolf-wolf coma and covered his feet with flour.
This was the third time she went to the barn door, knocked and spoke in a sweet, motherly voice:
- Open up, my sons, your sweet mother has come home, she has brought you green grass and leaves.
- 'Show us your feet,' said the goat-goats, 'let us see if you are our mother.
The wolf put his foot on the tree of the window and the foolish goat-goats opened the door at the sight of the white foot. They were sure it was their mother and no one else. Yes, it was the wolf! Oh, dear God, they were terribly frightened.
If possible, they hid underground, but they couldn't hide underground, so they hid wherever they could: under the table, under the bed, behind the stove, in the dressing table, in the tray, in the cup-box, the seventh in the tulip chest. But they were allowed to hide, the wicked wolf pushed them in front of him and devoured them one by one.
Only he couldn't find the smallest one, the seventh. Well, six was enough for him. He lived so well, he could hardly move. When he got to the meadow, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
Soon afterwards, the old goat comes home, but then faints in a terrible fright. The door is wide open, the room is in an uproar, he looks for his sons, calls for them, no voice answers him, he cries, he wails, he wails bitterly, he wails, and late in the day the youngest goat says: "Here I am, my mother.
- Where, my child, my soul?
- In the tulip box.
So he opens the lid of the box, takes out the little goat's feather, hugs and kisses it, and asks: where are the others? And the little goat tells him what happened. That the wolf-wolf was here and, bam!
But at least the old goat didn't have to stay at home. He said to his little son:
- Jere, my boy, jere. One life, one death, I'll not rest until I find that murderer!
They ran to the meadow, but how they ran! Like the wind, even faster than the wind. They came upon the very tree where the wolf was sleeping. He opened his belly and snored so that the leaves of the tree rustled, the branches of the tree swayed and nodded.
The old goat stops, looks, looks, examines the wolf from this side and that, and sees that something is moving in its bloated belly.
- Oh God, dear good God!" cried the old goat, "it pleases me that my sweet sons are still alive!
Uccu, not thinking for long, ran home, bringing with him scissors, needle and thread. Quietly, he crouched down next to the wolf, used the scissors to cut out its guts, and at that moment a goat's head popped out.
He continues to tear, and one after another all six goats jump out: none of them had a dog's bite, because the voracious wolf-wolf had just swallowed them.
Well, it was a pleasure, but what a pleasure! The goat-goats were jumping and jumping, finding no room in their wide joy. Then when they had danced themselves out, said the old goat:
- Enough of the dancing, now run to the stream, fetch some stones, fill the stomach of wolf-wolf while he sleeps.
The goat-goats ran, brought a bunch of stones, stuck them into Wolf-Wolf's belly, and the old goat sewed the hole in it, but so cleverly that Wolf-Wolf didn't move. Then, she said to him, "Get lost," and they ran home!
What happened to the wolf? And what happened to the wolf was that when he woke up, he was very thirsty and went to the stream to have a drink. He did, but as he went, the stones clattered against each other, rattling and rattling, rolling this way and that in his belly.
The wolf-wolf stops, looks to the right, to the left, stares, stares, can't think what's rattling in his belly. He said to himself as he trudged towards the stream:
Terse, something but rattling,
It's bouncing back and forth!
I've eaten six goat feathers,
And a stone rattles in my belly!
Now that's a miracle! It sure is! He barely managed to crawl to the bank of the stream, and he ran into the water, but as he ran into it, the stones made a great crash and threw Wolf-Wolf into the stream.
Meanwhile, the goat herds danced at home, cheered and then kicked out the barn ode. They still dance today, if they're not bored.
(Collected works of the Brothers Grimm, translated into Hungarian by Elek Benedek)