短篇安徒生童话故事英文版

短篇安徒生童话故事英文版 the Old Grave-Stone老墓碑

IN a house， with a large courtyard， in aprovincial town， at that time of the year in whichpeople say the evenings are growing longer， afamily circle were gathered together at their oldhome. A lamp burned on the table， although theweather was mild and warm， and the long curtainshung down before the open windows， and withoutthe moon shone brightly in the dark-blue sky.

But they were not talking of the moon， but of a large， old stone that lay below in thecourtyard not very far from the kitchen door. The maids often laid the clean copper saucepansand kitchen vessels on this stone， that they might dry in the sun， and the children werefond of playing on it. It was， in fact， an old grave-stone.

“Yes，” said the master of the house， “I believe the stone came from the graveyard of theold church of the convent which was pulled down， and the pulpit， the monuments， and thegrave-stones sold. My father bought the latter; most of them were cut in two and used forpaving-stones， but that one stone was preserved whole， and laid in the courtyard.”

“Any one can see that it is a grave-stone，” said the eldest of the children; “therepresentation of an hour-glass and part of the figure of an angel can still be traced， but theinscription beneath is quite worn out， excepting the name 'Preben，' and a large 'S' close byit， and a little farther down the name of 'Martha' can be easily read. But nothing more， andeven that cannot be seen unless it has been raining， or when we have washed the stone.”

“Dear me! how singular. Why that must be the grave-stone of Preben Schwane and hiswife.”

the old man who said this looked old enough to be the grandfather of all present in theroom.

“Yes，” he continued， “these people were among the last who were buried in thechurchyard of the old convent. They were a very worthy old couple， I can remember them wellin the days of my boyhood. Every one knew them， and they were esteemed by all. They werethe oldest residents in the town， and people said they possessed a ton of gold， yet theywere always very plainly dressed， in the coarsest stuff， but with linen of the purestwhiteness. Preben and Martha were a fine old couple， and when they both sat on the bench，at the top of the steep stone steps， in front of their house， with the branches of the linden-tree waving above them， and nodded in a gentle， friendly way to passers by， it really madeone feel quite happy. They were very good to the poor; they fed them and clothed them， andin their benevolence there was judgment as well as true Christianity. The old woman diedfirst; that day is still quite vividly before my eyes. I was a little boy， and had accompanied myfather to the old man's house. Martha had fallen into the sleep of death just as we arrivedthere. The corpse lay in a bedroom， near to the one in which we sat， and the old man was inGREat distress and weeping like a child. He spoke to my father， and to a few neighbors whowere there， of how lonely he should feel now she was gone， and how good and true she， hisdead wife， had been during the number of years that they had passed through life together，and how they had become acquainted， and learnt to love each other. I was， as I have said，a boy， and only stood by and listened to what the others said; but it filled me with a strangeemotion to listen to the old man， and to watch how the color rose in his cheeks as he spokeof the days of their courtship， of how beautiful she was， and how many little tricks he hadbeen guilty of， that he might meet her. And then he talked of his wedding-day; and his eyesbrightened， and he seemed to be carried back， by his words， to that joyful time. And yetthere she was， lying in the next room， dead—an old woman， and he was an old man，speaking of the days of hope， long passed away. Ah， well， so it is; then I was but a child，and now I am old， as old as Preben Schwane then was. Time passes away， and all thingschanged. I can remember quite well the day on which she was buried， and how Old Prebenwalked close behind the coffin.

“A few years before this time the old couple had had their grave-stone prepared， with aninscription and their names， but not the date. In the evening the stone was taken to thechurchyard， and laid on the grave. A year later it was taken up， that Old Preben might be laidby the side of his wife. They did not leave behind them wealth， they left behind them far lessthan people had believed they possessed; what there was went to families distantly related tothem， of whom， till then， no one had ever heard. The old house， with its balcony ofwickerwork， and the bench at the top of the high steps， under the lime-tree， wasconsidered， by the road-inspectors， too old and rotten to be left standing. Afterwards，when the same fate befell the convent church， and the graveyard was destroyed， the grave-stone of Preben and Martha， like everything else， was sold to whoever would buy it. And so ithappened that this stone was not cut in two as many others had been， but now lies in thecourtyard below， a scouring block for the maids， and a playground for the children. Thepaved street now passes over the resting place of Old Preben and his wife; no one thinks ofthem any more now.”

And the old man who had spoken of all this shook his head mournfully， and said， “Forgotten! Ah， yes， everything will be forgotten!” And then the conversation turned onother matters.

But the youngest child in the room， a boy， with large， earnest eyes， mounted upon achair behind the window curtains， and looked out into the yard， where the moon was pouringa flood of light on the old gravestone，—the stone that had always appeared to him so dull andflat， but which lay there now like a GREat leaf out of a book of history. All that the boy hadheard of Old Preben and his wife seemed clearly defined on the stone， and as he gazed on it，and glanced at the clear， bright moon shining in the pure air， it was as if the light of God'scountenance beamed over His beautiful world.

“Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!” still echoed through the room， and in thesame moment an invisible spirit whispered to the heart of the boy， “Preserve carefully theseed that has been entrusted to thee， that it may grow and thrive. Guard it well. Throughthee， my child， shall the obliterated inscription on the old， weather-beaten grave-stone goforth to future generations in clear， golden characters. The old pair shall again wanderthrough the streets arm-in-arm， or sit with their fresh， healthy cheeks on the bench underthe lime-tree， and smile and nod at rich and poor. The seed of this hour shall ripen in thecourse of years into a beautiful poem. The beautiful and the good are never forgotten， theylive always in story or in song.”

在一个小乡镇里，有一个人自己拥有一幢房子。有一天晚上，他全家的人围坐在一起。这正是人们所常说的“夜长”的季节。这种时刻既温暖，又舒适。灯亮了;长长的窗帘拉下来了。窗子上摆着许多花盆;外面是一片美丽的月光。不过他们并不是在谈论这件事。他们是在谈论着一块古老的大石头。这块石头躺在院子里、紧靠着厨房门旁边。

女佣人常常把擦过了的铜制的用具放在上面晒;孩子们也喜欢在上面玩耍。事实上它是一个古老的墓碑。“是的，”房子的主人说，“我相信它是从那个拆除了的老修道院搬来的。人们把里面的宣讲台、纪念牌和墓碑全都卖了!我去世了的父亲买了好几块墓石，每块都打断了，当做铺道石用，不过这块墓石留下来了，一直躺在院子那儿没有动。”“人们一眼就可以看出，这是一块墓石，”最大的一个孩子说，“我们仍然可以看出它上面刻得有一个滴漏1和一个安琪儿的片断。不过它上面的字差不多全都模糊了，只剩下卜列本这个名字和后边的一个大字母S，以及离此更远一点的”玛尔塔“!此外甚么东西也看不见了。只有在下了雨，或者当我们把它洗净了以后，我们才能看得清楚。”

1这是古代一种最原始的钟。它是由上下两个玻璃球作成的，由一个小颈联在一起。上面的球装满沙子或水银，通过这小颈流到下面的一个球里去。这个过程所花的时间，一般是一小时。时刻就以这流尽的过程为单位计算。古代教堂里常用这种钟。“天哪，这就是卜列本·斯万尼和他妻子的墓石!”一个老人插进来说。他是那么老，简直可以作为这所房子里所有人的祖父。“是的，他们是最后埋在这个老修道院墓地里的一对夫妇。他们从我小时起就是一对老好人。大家都认识他们，大家都喜欢他们。

他们是这小城里的一对元老。大家都说他们所有的金子一个桶也装不完。但是他们穿的衣服却非常朴素，总是粗料子做的;不过他们的桌布、被单等总是雪白的。他们——卜列本和玛尔塔——是一对可爱的夫妇!当他们坐在屋子面前那个很高的石台阶上的一条凳子上时，老菩提树就把枝子罩在他们头上;他们和善地、温柔地对你点着头——这使你感到愉快。他们对穷人非常好，给他们饭吃，给他们衣服穿。他们的慈善行为充分地表示出他们的善意和基督精神。”太太先去世!那一天我记得清清楚楚。我那时是一个很小的孩子，跟着爸爸一起到老卜列本家里去，那时她刚刚合上眼睛，这老头儿非常难过，哭得像一个小孩子。她的屍体还放在睡房里，离我们现在坐的这地方不远。他那时对我的爸爸和几个邻人说，他此后将会多么孤独，她曾经多么好，他们曾经怎样在一起生活了多少年，他们是怎样先认识的，然后又怎样相爱起来。我已经说过，我那时很小，只能站在旁边听。我听到这老人讲话，我也注意到，当他一讲起他们的订婚经过、她是怎样的美丽、他怎样找出许多天真的托词去会见她的时候，他就活泼起来，他的双颊就渐渐红润起来;这时我就感到非常惊奇。於是他就谈起他结婚的那个日子;他的眼睛这时也发出闪光来。他似乎又回到那个快乐的年代里去了。但是她——一个老女人——却躺在隔壁房间里，死去了。他自己也是一个老头儿，谈论着过去那些充满了希望的日子!是的，是的，世事就是这样!“那时候我还不过是一个小孩子，不过现在我也老了，老了——像卜列本·斯万尼一样。时间过去了，一切事情都改变了!我记得她入葬那天的情景：卜列本·斯万尼紧跟在棺材后边。好几年以前，这对夫妇就准备好了他们的墓碑，在那上面刻好了他们的名字和碑文——只是没有填上死的年月。在一天晚间，这墓碑被抬到教堂的墓地里去，放在坟上。一年以后，它又被揭开了，老卜列本又在他妻子的身边躺下去了。”他们不像人们所想像的和所讲的那样，身后并没有留下许多钱财。剩下的一点东西都送给了远房亲戚——直到那时人们才知道有这些亲戚。那座木房子——和它的台阶顶上菩提树下的一条凳子——已经被市政府拆除了，因为它太腐朽，不能再让它存留下去，后来那个修道院也遭受到同样的命运：那个墓地也剷平了，卜列本和玛尔塔的墓碑，像别的墓碑一样，也卖给任何愿意买它的人了。现在事又凑巧，这块墓石居然没有被打碎，给人用掉;它却仍然躺在这院子里，作为女佣人放厨房用具和孩子们玩耍的地方。在卜列本和他的妻子安息的地上现在铺出了一条街道。谁也不再记起他们了。“

讲这故事的老人悲哀地摇摇头。“被遗忘了!一切东西都会被遗忘了!”他说。

於是他们在这房间里谈起别的事情来。不过那个最小的孩子——那个有一双严肃的大眼睛的孩子——爬到窗帘后边的一个椅子上去，朝院子里眺望。月光明朗地正照在这块大墓石上——对他说来。这一直是一块空洞和单调的石头。不过它现在躺在那儿像一整部历史中的一页。这孩子所听到的关於老卜列本和他的妻子的故事似乎就写在它上面。他望了望它，然后又望了望那个洁白的月亮，那个明朗高阔的天空。这很像造物主的面孔，向这整个的世界微笑。“被遗忘了!一切东西都会被遗忘了!”这是房间里的人所说的一句话。这时候，有一个看不见的安琪儿飞进来，吻了这孩子的前额，同时低声地对他说：“好好地保管着这颗藏在你身体内的种子吧，一直到它成熟的时候!通过你，我的孩子，那块老墓石上模糊的碑文，它的每个字，将会射出金光，传到后代!那对老年夫妇将会手挽着手，又在古老的街上走过，微笑着，现出他们新鲜和健康的面孔，在菩提树下，在那个高台阶上的凳子上坐着，对过往的人点头——不论是贫或是富。从这时开始，这颗种子，到了适当的时候，将会成熟，开出花来，成为一首诗。美的和善的东西是永远不会给遗忘的;它在传说和歌谣中将会获得永恆的生命。”

短篇安徒生童话故事英文版 the Swan's Nest天鹅的巢

BETWEEN the Baltic and the North Sea there liesan old swan's nest， wherein swans are born andhave been born that shall never die.

In olden times a flock of swans flew over theAlps to the GREen plains around Milan， where it wasdelightful to dwell. This flight of swans men calledthe Lombards.

Another flock， with shining plumage and honest eyes， soared southward to Byzantium;the swans established themselves there close by the Emperor's throne， and spread theirwings over him as shields to protect him. They received the name of Varangians.

On the coast of France there sounded a cry of fear， for the blood-stained swans that camefrom the North with fire under their wings; and the people prayed， “Heaven deliver us fromthe wild Northmen.”

On the fresh sward of England stood the Danish swan by the open seashore， with thecrown of three kingdoms on his head; and he stretched out his golden sceptre over the land.The heathens on the Pomerian coast bent the knee， and the Danish swans came with thebanner of the Cross and with the drawn sword.

“That was in the very old times，” you say.

In later days two mighty swans have been seen to fly from the nest. A light shone farthrough the air， far over the lands of the earth; the swan， with the strong beating of hiswings， scattered the twilight mists， and the starry sky was seen， and it was as if it camenearer to the earth. That was the swan Tycho Brahe.

“Yes， then，” you say; “but in our own days?”

We have seen swan after swan soar by in glorious flight. One let his pinions glide over thestrings of the golden harp， and it resounded through the North. Norway's mountains seemedto rise higher in the sunlight of former days; there was a rustling among the pine trees andthe birches; the gods of the North， the heroes， and the noble women， showed themselvesin the dark forest depths.

We have seen a swan beat with his wings upon the marble crag， so that it burst， andthe forms of beauty imprisoned in the stone stepped out to the sunny day， and men in thelands round about lifted up their heads to behold these mighty forms.

We have seen a third swan spinning the thread of thought that is fastened from country tocountry round the world， so that the word may fly with lightning speed from land to land.

And our Lord loves the old swan's nest between the Baltic and the North Sea. And whenthe mighty birds come soaring through the air to destroy it， even the callow young standround in a circle on the margin of the nest， and though their breasts may be struck so thattheir blood flows， they bear it， and strike with their wings and their claws.

Centuries will pass by， swans will fly forth from the nest， men will see them and hearthem in the world， before it shall be said in spirit and in truth， “This is the last swan—the lastsong from the swan's nest.”

在波罗的海和北海之间有一个古老的天鹅窠。它名叫丹麦。天鹅就是在它里面生出来的，过去和现在都是这样。它们的名字永远不会被人遗忘。

在远古的时候，有一群天鹅飞过阿尔卑斯山，在“五月的国度”1里的绿色平原上落下来。住在这儿是非常幸福的。

这一群天鹅叫做“长鬍子人”2.另外一群长着发亮的羽毛和诚实的眼睛的天鹅，飞向南方，在拜占庭3落下来。它们在皇帝的座位周围住下来，同时伸开它们的白色大翅膀，保护他的盾牌。这群天鹅叫做瓦1. 1指意大利伦巴底亚(Lombardia)省的首府米兰(Milano)。林格人2原文是Longobarder，指住在意大利伦巴底亚省的伦巴底人(Lombardo)。

3这是东罗马帝国的首都。

法国的海岸上升起一片惊恐的声音，因为嗜血狂的天鹅，拍着带有火焰的翅膀，正在从北方飞来。人们祈祷着说：“愿上帝把我们从这些野蛮的北欧人手中救出来!”

一只丹麦的天鹅2站在英国碧绿的草原上，站在广阔的海岸旁边。他的头上戴着代表三个王国的皇冠;他把他的王节伸向这个国家的土地上。

波美尔3海岸上的异教徒都在地上跪下来，因为丹麦的天鹅，带着绘有十字的旗帜和拔出的剑，向这儿飞来了。

那是很久很久以前的事情!你会这样说。

不过离我们的时代不远，还有两只强大的天鹅从窠里飞出来了。

一道光射过天空，射到世界的每个国土上。这只天鹅拍着他的强大的翅膀，撒下一层黄昏的烟雾。接着星空渐渐变得更清楚，好像是快要接近地面似的。这只天鹅的名字是透却·布拉赫4.“是的，那是多少年以前的事情!”你可能说，“但是在我们的这个时代呢?”

1原文是Vaeringer，这是一种北欧人;他们在9世纪时是波罗的海上有名的海盗。东罗马帝国的近卫队，就是由这些海盗组成的。

2指丹麦的克努得大帝(Knud，942-1036)。他征服了英国和挪威，做过这三个国家的皇帝。

3这是波罗的海的一个海湾。

4透却·布拉赫(TychoBrahe，1546-1601)是丹麦的名天文学家。

在我们的这个时代里，我们曾看见过许多天鹅在美丽地飞翔：有一只1把他的翅膀轻轻地在金竖琴的弦上拂过去。这琴声响遍了整个的北国：挪威的山似乎在古代的太阳光中增高了不少;松林和赤杨发出沙沙的回音;北国的神仙、英雄和贵妇人在深黑的林中偷偷地露出头角。

我们看到一只天鹅在一个大理石山上拍着翅膀2，把这座山弄得崩裂了。被囚禁在这山中的美的形体，现在走到明朗的太阳光中来。世界各国的人抬起他们的头来，观看这些绝美的形体。

我们看到第三只天鹅3纺着思想的线。这线绕着地球从这个国家牵到那个国家，好使语言像闪电似的从这个国家传到那个国家。

1指AdamGottlobOehlensehlaAgger，1779-1850，丹麦的名诗人。

2指BertelThorvaldsen，1768-1844，丹麦的名雕刻家。

3指奥尔斯德特(HansChristanOersted，1777-1851)丹麦的名电子学家。

我们的上帝喜欢这个位於波罗的海和北海之间的天鹅窠。让那些强暴的鸟儿从空中飞来颠覆它吧。“永远不准有这类事情发生!”甚至羽毛还没有长全的小天鹅都会在这窠的边缘守卫——我们已经看到过这样的事情。他们可以让他们的柔嫩的胸脯被啄得流血，但他们会用他们的嘴和爪斗争下去。

许多世纪将会过去，但是天鹅将会不断地从这个窠里飞出来。世界上的人将会看见他们，听见他们。要等人们真正说“这是最后的一只天鹅，这是天鹅窠里发出的一个最后的歌声”，那时间还早得很呢!

短篇安徒生童话故事英文版 By the Almshouse Window瓦尔都窗前的一瞥

NEAR the grass-covered rampart which encirclesCopenhagen lies a GREat red house. Balsams andother flowers greet us from the long rows ofwindows in the house， whose interior is sufficientlypoverty-stricken; and poor and old are the peoplewho inhabit it. The building is the WartonAlmshouse.

Look! at the window there leans an old maid.She plucks the withered leaf from the balsam， and looks at the grass-covered rampart， onwhich many children are playing. What is the old maid thinking of? A whole life drama isunfolding itself before her inward gaze.

“the poor little children， how happy they are—how merrily they play and romp together!What red cheeks and what angels' eyes! but they have no shoes nor stockings. They dance onthe GREen rampart， just on the place where， according to the old story， the ground alwayssank in， and where a sportive， frolicsome child had been lured by means of flowers， toys andsweetmeats into an open grave ready dug for it， and which was afterwards closed over thechild; and from that moment， the old story says， the ground gave way no longer， themound remained firm and fast， and was quickly covered with the green turf. The little peoplewho now play on that spot know nothing of the old tale， else would they fancy they heard achild crying deep below the earth， and the dewdrops on each blade of grass would be to themtears of woe. Nor do they know anything of the Danish King who here， in the face of thecoming foe， took an oath before all his trembling courtiers that he would hold out with thecitizens of his capital， and die here in his nest; they know nothing of the men who havefought here， or of the women who from here have drenched with boiling water the enemy，clad in white， and 'biding in the snow to surprise the city.

“No! the poor little ones are playing with light， childish spirits. Play on， play on， thoulittle maiden! Soon the years will come—yes， those glorious years. The priestly hands havebeen laid on the candidates for confirmation; hand in hand they walk on the GREen rampart.Thou hast a white frock on; it has cost thy mother much labor， and yet it is only cut down forthee out of an old larger dress! You will also wear a red shawl; and what if it hang too fardown? People will only see how large， how very large it is. You are thinking of your dress，and of the Giver of all good—so glorious is it to wander on the green rampart!

“And the years roll by; they have no lack of dark days， but you have your cheerfulyoung spirit， and you have gained a friend—you know not how. You met， oh， how often!You walk together on the rampart in the fresh spring， on the high days and holidays， whenall the world come out to walk upon the ramparts， and all the bells of the church steeples seemto be singing a song of praise for the coming spring.

“Scarcely have the violets come forth， but there on the rampart， just opposite thebeautiful Castle of Rosenberg， there is a tree bright with the first GREen buds. Every year thistree sends forth fresh green shoots. Alas! It is not so with the human heart! Dark mists，more in number than those that cover the northern skies， cloud the human heart. Poor child!thy friend's bridal chamber is a black coffin， and thou becomest an old maid. From thealmshouse window， behind the balsams， thou shalt look on the merry children at play， andshalt see thine own history renewed.”

And that is the life drama that passes before the old maid while she looks out upon therampart， the GREen， sunny rampart， where the children， with their red cheeks and bareshoeless feet， are rejoicing merrily， like the other free little birds.

(瓦尔都(Vartou)是哥本哈根的一个收留孤寡人的养老院，建筑於1700年。)

面对着围着哥本哈根的、生满了绿草的城堡，是一幢高大的红房子。它的窗子很多，窗子上种着许多凤仙花和青蒿一类的植物。房子内部是一副穷相;里边住的也全是一些穷苦的老人。这就是“瓦尔都养老院”。

看吧!一位老小姐倚着窗槛站着，她摘下凤仙花的一起枯叶，同时望着城堡上的绿草。许多小孩子就在那上面玩耍。这位老小姐有甚么感想呢?这时一出人生的戏剧就在她的心里展开了。“这些贫苦的孩子们，他们玩得多么快乐啊!多么红润的小脸蛋!多么幸福的眼睛!但是他们没有鞋子，也没有袜子穿。他们在这青翠的城堡上跳舞。根据一个古老的传说，多少年以前，这儿的土老是在崩塌，直到一个天真的小宝宝，带着她的花儿和玩具被诱到这个敞着的坟墓里去才停止;当她正在玩和吃着东西的时候，城堡就筑起来了(註：丹麦诗人蒂勒(J.M.Thiele)编的《丹麦民间传说》(Danske?Eolkesagn)中有这样一段记载：”很久很久以前，人们在哥本哈根周围建立了一个城堡。城堡一直在不停地崩颓，后来简直无法使它巩固下来，最后大家把一个天真的女孩子放在一张椅子上，在她面前放一个桌子，上面摆着许多玩具和糖果。当她正在玩耍的时候，12个石匠在她上面建起一座拱门。大家在音乐和喊声中把土堆到这拱门上，筑起一个城堡，从此以后城堡再也不崩塌了。“)。从那一忽儿起，这座城堡就一直是坚固的;很快它上面就盖满了美丽的绿草。小孩子们一点也不知道这个故事，否则他们就会听到那个孩子还在地底下哭，就会觉得草上的露珠是热烘烘的眼泪。他们也不知道那个丹麦国王的故事：当敌人在外边围城的时候，他骑着马走过这儿，作了一个誓言，说他要死在他的岗位上(註：指丹麦国王佛列得里克三世(?ErederickⅡ，1609-1670)。这儿是指1659年2月11日，瑞典军队围攻哥本哈根，但没有夺下该城。)。

那时许多男人和女人齐集拢来，对那些穿着白衣服，在雪地里爬城的敌人泼下滚烫的开水。”这些贫穷的孩子玩得非常快乐。“玩吧，你这位小小的姑娘!岁月不久就要到来——是的，那些幸福的岁月：那些准备去受坚信礼的青年男女手挽着手漫步着。你穿着一件白色的长衣——这对你的妈妈说来真是费了不少的气力，虽然它是一件宽大的旧衣服改出来的。你还披着一条红披肩;它拖得太长了，所以人们一看就知道它是太宽大，太宽大了!你在想着你的打扮，想着善良的上帝。在城堡上漫步是多么痛快啊!”岁月带着许多阴暗的日子——但也带着青春的心情——走过去了。你有了一个男朋友，你不知道是怎样认识他的。你们常常会面。你们在早春的日子里到城堡上去散步，那时教堂的钟为伟大的祈祷日发出悠扬的声音。紫罗兰花还没有开，但是罗森堡宫外有一株树已经发出新的绿芽。你们就在这儿停下步来。这株树每年生出绿枝，心在人类的胸中可不是这样!一层层阴暗的云块在它上面浮过去，比在北国上空所见到的还要多。“可怜的孩子，你的未婚夫的新房变成了一具棺材，而你自己也变成了一个老小姐。在瓦尔都，你从凤仙花的后面看见了这些玩耍着的孩子，也看见了你一生的历史的重演。”

这就是当这位老小姐望着城堡的时候，在她眼前所展开的一出人生的戏剧。太阳光在城堡上照着，红脸蛋的、没有袜子和鞋子穿的孩子们像天空的飞鸟一样，在那上面发出欢乐的叫声。