安徒生童话故事第:顽皮的孩子The Saucy Boy

2020-10-10 童话

  引导语:关于顽皮的孩子的安徒生童话故事,大家学习过?下面是小编收集的中英文版吧,欢迎大家阅读!

  从前有一位老诗人——一位非常和善的老诗人。有一天晚上,他坐在家里,外面起了一阵可怕的风暴。雨在倾盆地下着;不过这位老诗人坐在炉旁,又温暖,又舒适。

  火在熊熊地燎着,苹果烤得咝咝地发响。

  “这样的天气,外面的穷苦人身上恐怕没有一根纱是干的了。"他说,因为他是一位心肠非常好的老诗人。

  “啊,请开门!我非常冷,衣服也全湿透了。"外面有一个小孩子在叫。他哭起来,敲着门。这时雨正在倾盆地下着,风把所有的窗扉吹得呼呼地响。

  “你这个可怜的小家伙!"老诗人说;他走过去把门开了。门口站着一个小小的孩子。他全身没有穿衣服,雨水从他长长的金发上滚下来。他冻得发抖;如果他没有走进来的话,一定会在这样的暴风雨中冻死的。

  “你这个可怜的小家伙!"老诗人说,同时拉着他的手。

  “到我这儿来吧,我可以使你温暖起来。我可以给你喝一点酒,吃一个苹果,因为你是一个美丽的孩子。”

  他的确是很美丽的。他的眼睛亮得像两颗明亮的星星,他的金发虽然有水滴下来,可是卷卷曲曲的,非常好看。他像一个小小的天使,不过他冻得惨白,全身发抖。他手里拿着一把漂亮的弓,但是雨水已经把它弄坏了。涂在那些美丽箭上的色彩全都被雨淋得模糊不清了。

  老诗人坐在炉边,把这小孩子抱到膝上,把雨水从他的卷发里挤出来,把他的手放到自己的手里暖着,同时为他热了一些甜酒。这孩子马上就恢复过来了。他的双颊也变得红润起来了。他跳到地上来,围着这位老诗人跳舞。

  “你是一个快乐的孩子!"老诗人说。"你叫什么名字?”

  “我叫阿穆尔①,"他回答说;"你不认识我吗?我的弓就在这儿。你知道,我就是用这把弓射箭哪!看啊,外面天晴了,月亮也出来了。”

  “不过你的弓已经坏了。"老诗人说。

  “这倒是很可惜的,"小孩子回答说,同时把弓拿起来,看了一看。"哎,它还很干呢,并没有受到什么损害。弦还很紧——我倒要试它一试!"于是他把弓一拉,插上一支箭,对准了目标,向这位和善的老诗人的心中射去。"请你现在看看究竟我的弓损坏了没有!"他说,大笑了一声,就跑掉了。这小孩子该是多么顽皮啊!他居然向这位老诗人射了一箭,而这位老诗人还把他请进温暖的房间里来,对他非常和善,给他喝最好的'酒,吃最好的苹果呢!

  这位和善的老诗人躺在地上,哭起来了;他的心中了一箭,他说:"嗨,这个阿穆尔真是一个顽皮的孩子!我要把这事情告诉所有的好孩子们,叫他们当心,不要跟他一起玩耍,因为他会跟他们捣蛋!”

  所有的好孩子们——女孩子和男孩子们——听到了他讲的这个故事,都对这个顽皮的孩子有了戒心;然而他还是骗过了他们,因为他非常地伶俐。当大学生听完了课走出来的时候,他就穿着一件黑上衣,腋下夹着一本书,在他们的旁边走,他们一点也没有看出他。于是他们就挽着他的手,以为他也是一个学生呢。过时他就把一支箭射进他们的心里去。当女孩子们到教堂去受"坚信礼"②的时候,他也在后面跟着她们。是的,他老是在跟着人!他坐在戏院里的蜡烛台上,光耀夺目,弄得人们把他当做一盏明灯。可是不久大家就知道完全不是这么一回事。他在御花园里,在散步场上跑来跑去。是的,他从前有过一次射中了你爸爸和妈妈的心啦。你只需问问他们。你就可以听到一段故事。咳,这个阿穆尔真是一个坏孩子;你们决不能跟他有任何来往!他在跟着每一个人。

  你想想看,有一次他居然把一支箭射进老祖母的心里去啦

  =——不过这是很久以前的事了。那个创伤早已经治好了,但是老祖母一直忘不了它。呸,那个恶作剧的阿穆尔!不过你现在认识他了!你知道他是一个多么顽皮的孩子。

  ①阿穆尔(Amor)即希腊神话中的丘比特,是罗马神话中爱情之神。他是一个顽皮和快乐的孩子,经常带着弓和箭。当他的箭射到一个人的心里去的时候,这支箭就燃起爱情的火焰。

  ②在基督教里面,小孩子受了洗礼以后,到了青春发育期间、一般地都要再受一次"坚信礼",以加强和巩固他对宗教的信心。受"坚信礼"是进入成人阶段的标记。

 

  顽皮的孩子英文版:

  The Saucy Boy

  ONCE upon a time there was an old poet, one of those right good old poets.

  One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a terrible storm going on outside; the rain was pouring down, but the old poet sat comfortably in his chimney-corner, where the fire was burning and the apples were roasting.

  “There will not be a dry thread left on the poor people who are out in this weather,” he said.

  “Oh, open the door! I am so cold and wet through,” called a little child outside. It was crying and knocking at the door, whilst the rain was pouring down and the wind was rattling all the windows.

  “Poor creature!” said the poet, and got up and opened the door. Before him stood a little boy; he was naked, and the water flowed from his long fair locks. He was shivering with cold; if he had not been let in, he would certainly have perished in the storm.

  “Poor little thing!” said the poet, and took him by the hand. “Come to me; I will soon warm you. You shall have some wine and an apple, for you are such a pretty boy.”

  And he was, too. His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, and although the water flowed down from his fair locks, they still curled quite beautifully.

  He looked like a little angel, but was pale with cold, and trembling all over. In his hand he held a splendid bow, but it had been entirely spoilt by the rain, and the colours of the pretty arrows had run into one another by getting wet.

  The old man sat down by the fire, and taking the little boy on his knee, wrung the water out of his locks and warmed his hands in his own.

  He then made him some hot spiced wine, which quickly revived him; so that with reddening cheeks, he sprang upon the floor and danced around the old man.

  “You are a merry boy,” said the latter. “What is your name?”

  “My name is Cupid,” he answered. “Don’t you know me? There lies my bow. I shoot with that, you know. Look, the weather is getting fine again—the moon is shining.”

  “But your bow is spoilt,” said the old poet.

  “That would be unfortunate,” said the little boy, taking it up and looking at it. “Oh, it’s quite dry and isn’t damaged at all. The string is quite tight; I’ll try it.” So, drawing it back, he took an arrow, aimed, and shot the good old poet right in the heart. “Do you see now that my bow was not spoilt?” he said, and, loudly laughing, ran away. What a naughty boy to shoot the old poet like that, who had taken him into his warm room, had been so good to him, and had given him the nicest wine and the best apple!

  The good old man lay upon the floor crying; he was really shot in the heart. “Oh!” he cried, “what a naughty boy this Cupid is! I shall tell all the good children about this, so that they take care never to play with him, lest he hurt them.”

  And all good children, both girls and boys, whom he told about this, were on their guard against wicked Cupid; but he deceives them all the same, for he is very deep. When the students come out of class, he walks beside them with a book under his arm, and wearing a black coat. They cannot recognize him. And then, if they take him by the arm, believing him to be a student too, he sticks an arrow into their chest. And when the girls go to church to be confirmed, he is amongst them too. In fact, he is always after people. He sits in the large chandelier in the theatre and blazes away, so that people think it is a lamp; but they soon find out their mistake. He walks about in the castle garden and on the promenades. Yes, once he shot your father and your mother in the heart too. Just ask them, and you will hear what they say. Oh! he is a bad boy, this Cupid, and you must never have anything to do with him, for he is after every one. Just think, he even shot an arrow at old grandmother; but that was a long time ago. The wound has long been healed, but such things are never forgotten.

  Now you know what a bad boy this wicked Cupid is.

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