安徒生童話故事第11篇：雛菊The Daisy

　　引導語：雛菊這篇安徒生的童話故事大家知道?下面就是小編收集的中英文版吧，歡迎大家閱讀!

　　現(xiàn)在請你聽聽——

　　在鄉(xiāng)間的一條大路邊，有一座別墅。你一定看見過的!別墅前面有一個種滿了花的小花園和一排涂了油漆的柵欄。在這附近的一條溝里，一叢美麗的綠草中長著一棵小小的雛菊。太陽溫暖地、光明地照著它，正如太陽照著花園里那些大朵的美麗的花兒一樣。因此它時時刻刻都在不停地生長。有一天早晨，它的花盛開了;它的光亮的小小花瓣，圍繞一個金黃色的太陽的中心撒開來，簡直像一圈光帶。它從來沒有想到，因為它生在草里，人們不會看到它，所以它要算是一種可憐的、卑微的小花。不，它卻是很高興，它把頭掉向太陽，瞧著太陽，靜聽百靈鳥在高空中唱歌。

　　小雛菊是那么快樂，好像這是一個偉大的節(jié)日似的。事實上這不過是星期一，小孩子都上學去了。當他們正坐在凳子上學習的時候，它就坐在它的小綠梗上向溫暖的太陽光、向周圍一切東西，學習了上帝的仁慈。雛菊覺得它在靜寂中所感受到的一切，都被百靈鳥高聲地、美妙地唱出來了。于是雛菊懷著尊敬的心情向著這只能唱能飛的鳥兒凝望，不過，它并不因為自己不能唱歌和飛翔就感到悲哀。

　　“我能看，也能聽，”它想。“太陽照著我，風吻著我。啊，我真是天生的幸運!”

　　柵欄里面長著許多驕傲的名花——它們的香氣越少，就越裝模作樣。牡丹盡量擴張，想要開得比玫瑰花還大，可是問題并不在于龐大。郁金香的顏色最華麗，它們也知道這個特點，所以它們就特別立得挺直，好叫人能更清楚地看到它們。它們一點也不理會外邊的小雛菊，但是小雛菊卻老是在看著它們。它心里想：“它們是多么富麗堂皇啊!是的，美麗的鳥兒一定會飛向它們，拜訪它們!感謝上帝!我離它們那么近，我能有機會欣賞它們!”正當它在這樣想的時候，“滴麗”——百靈鳥飛下來了，但是他并沒有飛到牡丹或郁金香上面去——不，他卻飛到草叢里微賤的小雛菊身邊來了。雛菊快樂得驚惶起來，真是不知怎樣辦才好。

　　這只小鳥在它的周圍跳著舞，唱著歌。

　　“啊，草是多么柔軟!請看，這是一朵多么甜蜜的小花兒——它的心是金子，它的衣服是銀子!”

　　雛菊的黃心看起來也的確像金子，它周圍的小花瓣白得像銀子。

　　誰也體會不到，小雛菊心里感到多么幸福!百靈鳥用嘴來吻它，對它唱一陣歌，又向藍色的空中飛去。足足過了一刻鐘以后，雛菊才清醒過來。它懷著一種羞怯而又快樂的心情，向花園里的花兒望了一眼。它們一定看見過它所得到的光榮和幸福，它們一定懂得這是多么愉快的事情。可是郁金香仍然像以前那樣驕傲;它們的面孔也仍然很刻板和發(fā)紅，因為它們在自尋煩惱。牡丹花也是頭腦不清醒，唉，幸而它們不會講話，否則雛菊就會挨一頓痛罵。這棵可憐的小花看得很清楚，它們的情緒都不好，這使得它感到苦惱。正在這時候，有一個小女孩子拿著一把明晃晃的刀子到花園里來了。她一直走到郁金香中間去，把它們一棵一棵地都砍掉了。

　　“唉，”小雛菊嘆了一口氣，“這真是可怕。它們現(xiàn)在一切都完了。”

　　女孩子拿著郁金香走了，雛菊很高興，自己生在草里，是一棵寒微的小花。它感到很幸運。當太陽落下去以后，它就卷起花瓣，睡著了，它一整夜夢著太陽和那只美麗的小鳥。

　　第二天早晨，當這花兒向空氣和陽光又張開它小手臂般的小白花瓣的時候，它聽到了百靈鳥的聲音;不過他今天唱得非常悲哀。是的，可憐的百靈鳥是有理由感到悲哀的：他被捕去了。他現(xiàn)在被關在敞開的窗子旁的一個籠子里。他歌唱著自由自在的、幸福的飛翔，他歌唱著田里嫩綠的麥苗，他歌唱著他在高空中快樂的飛行。可憐的百靈鳥的心情真是壞極了，因為他是坐在牢籠里的一個囚徒。

　　小雛菊真希望能夠幫助他。不過，它怎么才能辦得到呢?是的，要想出一個辦法來真不太容易。它現(xiàn)在也忘記了周圍的一切景物是多么美麗，太陽照著多么溫暖，它自己的`花瓣白得多么可愛。啊!它心中只想著關在牢籠里的雀子，只感到自己一點辦法也沒有。

　　這時候有兩個男孩子從花園里走出來。有一個男孩子手里拿著一把又大又快的刀子——跟那個女孩子砍掉郁金香的那把刀子差不多。他們一直向小雛菊走來——它一點也猜不到他們的用意。

　　“我們可以在這兒為百靈鳥挖起一塊很好的草皮。”一個小孩子說。于是他就在雛菊的周圍挖了一塊四四方方的草皮，使雛菊恰好留在草的中間。

　　“拔掉這朵花吧!”另一個孩子說。

　　雛菊害怕得發(fā)起抖來，因為如果它被拔掉，它就會死去的。它現(xiàn)在特別需要活下去，因為它要跟草皮一道到被囚的百靈鳥那兒去。

　　“不，留下它吧，”頭一個孩子說，“它可以作為一種裝飾品。”

　　這么著，它就被留下來了，而且還來到關百靈鳥的籠子里去了。

　　不過這只可憐的鳥兒一直在為失去了自由而啼哭，他用翅膀打著牢籠的鐵柱。小雛菊說不出話來，它找不出半個字眼來安慰百靈鳥——雖然它很愿意這么做。一整個上午就這樣過去了。

　　“這兒沒有水喝，”被囚禁的百靈鳥說。“大家都出去了，一滴水也沒有留給我喝。我的喉嚨在發(fā)干，在發(fā)焦。我身體里像有火，又像有冰，而且空氣又非常沉悶，啊!我要死了!我要離開溫暖的太陽、新鮮的綠草和上帝創(chuàng)造的一切美景!”

　　于是他把嘴伸進清涼的草皮里去，希望嘗到一點涼味。這時他發(fā)現(xiàn)了雛菊，于是對它點頭，用嘴親吻它，同時說：

　　“你也只好在這兒枯萎下去了——你這可憐的小花兒!他們把你和跟你生長在一起的這一小塊綠草送給我，來代替我在外面的那整個世界!對于我說來，現(xiàn)在每根草就是一株綠樹，你的每片白花瓣就是一朵芬芳的花!啊，你使我記起，我喪失了真不知多少東西!”

　　“我希望我能安慰他一下!”小雛菊想。

　　但是它連一片花瓣都不能動。不過它精致的花瓣所發(fā)出的香氣，比它平時所發(fā)出的香氣要強烈得多。百靈鳥也注意到了這一點，所以雖然他渴得要昏倒，他只是吃力地啄著草葉，而不愿意動這棵花。

　　天已經黑了，還沒有人來送一滴水給這只可憐的鳥兒。他展開美麗的翅膀，痙攣地拍著。他的歌聲變成了悲哀的尖叫，他的小頭向雛菊垂下來——百靈鳥的心在悲哀和渴望中碎裂了。雛菊再也不像前天晚上那樣又把花瓣合上來睡一覺。它的心很難過，它的身體病了，它的頭倒在土上。

　　小孩子在第二天早晨才走過來。當他們看見雀子死了的時候，他們都哭起來——哭出許多眼淚。他們?yōu)榘凫`鳥掘了一個平整的墳墓，并且用花瓣把他裝飾了一番。百靈鳥的尸體躺在一個美麗的紅匣子里，因為他們要為他——可憐的鳥兒——舉行一個隆重的葬禮。在他活著能唱歌的時候，人們忘記他，讓他坐在牢籠里受苦受難;現(xiàn)在他卻得到了尊榮和許多眼淚!

　　可是那塊草皮連帶著雛菊被扔到路上的灰塵里去了。

　　誰也沒有想到它，而最關心百靈鳥、最愿意安慰他的，卻正是它。

　　雛菊英文版：

　　The Daisy

　　OW listen! In the country, close by the high road, stood a farmhouse; perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself. There was a little flower garden with painted wooden palings in front of it; close by was a ditch, on its fresh green bank grew a little daisy; the sun shone as warmly and brightly upon it as on the magnificent garden flowers, and therefore it thrived well. One morning it had quite opened, and its little snow-white petals stood round the yellow centre, like the rays of the sun. It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass, and that it was a poor despised flower; on the contrary, it was quite happy, and turned towards the sun, looking upward and listening to the song of the lark high up in the air.

　　The little daisy was as happy as if the day had been a great holiday, but it was only Monday. All the children were at school, and while they were sitting on the forms and learning their lessons, it sat on its thin green stalk and learnt from the sun and from its surroundings how kind God is, and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so sweetly and distinctly its own feelings. With a sort of reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and sing, but it did not feel envious. “I can see and hear,” it thought; “the sun shines upon me, and the forest kisses me. How rich I am!”

　　In the garden close by grew many large and magnificent flowers, and, strange to say, the less fragrance they had the haughtier and prouder they were. The peonies puffed themselves up in order to be larger than the roses, but size is not everything! The tulips had the finest colours, and they knew it well, too, for they were standing bolt upright like candles, that one might see them the better. In their pride they did not see the little daisy, which looked over to them and thought, “How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure the pretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God, that I stand so near and can at least see all the splendour.” And while the daisy was still thinking, the lark came flying down, crying “Tweet,” but not to the peonies and tulips—no, into the grass to the poor daisy. Its joy was so great that it did not know what to think. The little bird hopped round it and sang, “How beautifully soft the grass is, and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silver dress is growing here.” The yellow centre in the daisy did indeed look like gold, while the little petals shone as brightly as silver.

　　How happy the daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird kissed it with its beak, sang to it, and then rose again up to the blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of an hour before the daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed, yet glad at heart, it looked over to the other flowers in the garden; surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour that had been done to it; they understood its joy. But the tulips stood more stiffly than ever, their faces were pointed and red, because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky; it was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have given the daisy a good lecture. The little flower could very well see that they were ill at ease, and pitied them sincerely.

　　Shortly after this a girl came into the garden, with a large sharp knife. She went to the tulips and began cutting them off, one after another. “Ugh!” sighed the daisy, “that is terrible; now they are done for.”

　　The girl carried the tulips away. The daisy was glad that it was outside, and only a small flower—it felt very grateful. At sunset it folded its petals, and fell asleep, and dreamt all night of the sun and the little bird.

　　On the following morning, when the flower once more stretched forth its tender petals, like little arms, towards the air and light, the daisy recognised the bird’s voice, but what it sang sounded so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad, for it had been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of the happy days when it could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in the fields, and of the time when it could soar almost up to the clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what could be done? Indeed, that was very difficult for such a small flower to find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was, how warmly the sun was shining, and how splendidly white its own petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird, for which it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden; one of them had a large sharp knife, like that with which the girl had cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little daisy, which could not understand what they wanted.

　　“Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark,” said one of the boys, and began to cut out a square round the daisy, so that it remained in the centre of the grass.

　　“Pluck the flower off” said the other boy, and the daisy trembled for fear, for to be pulled off meant death to it; and it wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of turf into the poor captive lark’s cage.

　　“No let it stay,” said the other boy, “it looks so pretty.”

　　And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark’s cage. The poor bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word, much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed.

　　“I have no water,” said the captive lark, “they have all gone out, and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created.” And it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed it with its beak and said: “You must also fade in here, poor little flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals a fragrant flower. Alas! you only remind me of what I have lost.”

　　“I wish I could console the poor lark,” thought the daisy. It could not move one of its leaves, but the fragrance of its delicate petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than such flowers usually have: the bird noticed it, although it was dying with thirst, and in its pain tore up the green blades of grass, but did not touch the flower.

　　The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in its anguish; a faint and mournful “Tweet, tweet,” was all it could utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not, as on the previous evening, fold up its petals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when they saw the dead bird, they began to cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and adorned it with flowers. The bird’s body was placed in a pretty red box; they wished to bury it with royal honours. While it was alive and sang they forgot it, and let it suffer want in the cage; now, they cried over it and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf, with the little daisy in it, was thrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it.

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