安徒生童话中英对比三篇

安徒生童话中英对比三篇

导语：安徒生童话的文字“善于为人们的幸福和自己的幸福去想象，而不是为了悲哀”。这里励志故事网的小编为大家整理了三篇安徒生童话中英对比，希望你们喜欢。

故事一：《世界上最美丽的一朵玫瑰花》

从前有一位权力很大的皇后。她的花园里种植着每季最美丽的、从世界各国移来的花。但是她特别喜爱玫瑰花，因此她有各种各色的玫瑰花：从那长着能发出苹果香味的绿叶的野玫瑰，一直到最可爱的、普罗旺斯的玫瑰，样样都有。它们爬上宫殿的墙壁，攀着圆柱和窗架，伸进走廊，一直长到所有大殿的天花板上去。这些玫瑰有不同的香味，形状和色彩。

但是这些大殿里充满了忧虑和悲哀。皇后睡在病床上起不来，御医宣称她的生命没有希望。

“只有一件东西可以救她，”御医之中一位最聪明的人说。“送给她一朵世界上最美丽的玫瑰花——一朵表示最高尚、最纯洁的爱情的玫瑰花。这朵花要在她的眼睛没有闭上以前就送到她面前来.那么她就不会死掉。”

各地的年轻人和老年人送来许多玫瑰花——所有的花园里开着的最美丽的玫瑰花。然而这却不是那种能治病的玫瑰花。那应该是在爱情的花园里摘下来的一朵花;但是哪朵玫瑰真正表示出最高尚、最纯洁的爱情呢?

诗人们歌唱着世界上最美丽的玫瑰花;每个诗人都有自己的一朵。消息传遍全国，传到每一颗充满了爱情的心里，传给每一种年龄和从事每种职业的人。

“至今还没有人能说出这朵花，”那个聪明人说，“谁也指不出盛开着这朵花的那块地方。这不是罗密欧和朱丽叶棺材上的玫瑰花，也不是瓦尔堡坟上的玫瑰花，虽然这些玫瑰在诗歌和传说中永远是芬芳的。这也不是从文克里得的血迹斑斑的长矛上开出的那些玫瑰花——从一个为祖国而死去的英雄的心里所流出的血中开出的玫瑰花，虽然什么样的死也没有这种死可爱，什么样的花也没有他所流出的血那样红。这也不是人们在静寂的房间里，花了无数不眠之夜和宝贵的生命所培养出的那朵奇异之花——科学的奇花。”

“我知道这朵花开在什么地方，”一个幸福的母亲说。她带着她的娇嫩的孩子走到这位皇后的床边来，“我知道在什么地方可以找到世界上最美丽的玫瑰花!那朵表示最高尚和最纯洁的爱情的玫瑰，是从我甜蜜的孩子的鲜艳的脸上开出来的。这时他睡足了觉，睁开他的眼睛，对我发出充满了爱情的微笑!”

“这朵玫瑰是够美的，不过还有一朵比这更美，”聪明人说。

“是的，比这更要美得多，”另一个女人说。“我曾经看到过一朵，再没有任何一朵开得比这更高尚、更神圣的花，不过它像庚申玫瑰的花瓣，白得没有血色。我看到它在皇后的脸上开出来。她取下了她的皇冠，她在悲哀的长夜里抱着她的病孩子哭泣，吻他，祈求上帝保佑他——像一个母亲在苦痛的时刻那样祈求。”

“悲哀中的白玫瑰是神圣的，具有神奇的力量;但是它不是我们所寻找的那朵玫瑰花。”

“不是的，我只是在上帝的祭坛上看到世界上最美的那朵玫瑰花，”虔诚的老主教说。“我看到它像一个安琪儿的面孔似的射出光彩。年轻的姑娘走到圣餐的桌子面前，重复她们在受洗时听作出的诺言，于是玫瑰花开了——她们的鲜嫩的脸上开出淡白色的玫瑰花。一个年轻的女子站在那儿。她的灵魂充满了纯洁的爱，她抬头望着上帝——这是一个最纯洁和最高尚的爱的表情。”

“愿上帝祝福她!”聪明人说。“不过你们谁也没有对我说出世界上最美丽的玫瑰花。”

这时有一个孩子——皇后的小儿子——走进房间里来了。他的眼睛里和他的脸上全是泪珠。他捧着一本打开的厚书。这书是用天鹅绒装订的，上面还有银质的大扣子。

“妈妈!”小家伙说，“啊，请听我念吧!”

于是这孩子在床边坐下来，念着书中关于他的事情——他，为了拯救人类，包括那些还没有出生的人，在十字架上牺牲了自己的生命。

“没有什么爱能够比这更伟大!”

皇后的脸上露出一片玫瑰色的光彩，她的眼睛变得又大又明亮，因为她在这书页上看到世界上最美丽的玫瑰花——从十字架上的基督的血里开出的一朵玫瑰花。

“我看到它了!”她说，“看到了这朵玫瑰花——这朵地上最美丽的玫瑰花——的人，永远不会死亡!”

英文版：The Loveliest Rose in the World

THERE lived once a great queen, in whose garden were found at all seasons the most splendid flowers, and from every land in the world. She specially loved roses, and therefore she possessed the most beautiful varieties of this flower, from the wild hedge-rose, with its apple-scented leaves, to the splendid Provence rose. They grew near the shelter of the walls, wound themselves round columns and window-frames, crept along passages and over the ceilings of the halls. They were of every fragrance and color.

But care and sorrow dwelt within these halls; the queen lay upon a sick bed, and the doctors declared that she must die. “There is still one thing that could save her,” said one of the wisest among them. “Bring her the loveliest rose in the world; one which exhibits the purest and brightest love, and if it is brought to her before her eyes close, she will not die.”

Then from all parts came those who brought roses that bloomed in every garden, but they were not the right sort. The flower must be one from the garden of love; but which of the roses there showed forth the highest and purest love? The poets sang of this rose, the loveliest in the world, and each named one which he considered worthy of that title; and intelligence of what was required was sent far and wide to every heart that beat with love; to every class, age, and condition.

“No one has yet named the flower,” said the wise man. “No one has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor. It is not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a lonely chamber.”

“I know where it blooms,” said a happy mother, who came with her lovely child to the bedside of the queen. “I know where the loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy; when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with childlike affection.”

“This is a lovely rose,” said the wise man; “but there is one still more lovely.”

“Yes, one far more lovely,” said one of the women. “I have seen it, and a loftier and purer rose does not bloom. But it was white, like the leaves of a blush-rose. I saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown, and through the long, dreary night, she carried her sick child in her arms. She wept over it, kissed it, and prayed for it as only a mother can pray in that hour of her anguish.”

“Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief, but it is not the one we seek.”

“No; the loveliest rose in the world I saw at the Lord’s table,” said the good old bishop. “I saw it shine as if an angel’s face had appeared. A young maiden knelt at the altar, and renewed the vows made at her baptism; and there were white roses and red roses on the blushing cheeks of that young girl. She looked up to heaven with all the purity and love of her young spirit, in all the expression of the highest and purest love.”

“May she be blessed!” said the wise man: “but no one has yet named the loveliest rose in the world.”

Then there came into the room a child—the queen’s little son. Tears stood in his eyes, and glistened on his cheeks; he carried a great book and the binding was of velvet, with silver clasps. “Mother,” cried the little boy; “only hear what I have read.” And the child seated himself by the bedside, and read from the book of Him who suffered death on the cross to save all men, even who are yet unborn. He read, “Greater love hath no man than this,” and as he read a roseate hue spread over the cheeks of the queen, and her eyes became so enlightened and clear, that she saw from the leaves of the book a lovely rose spring forth, a type of Him who shed His blood on the cross.

“I see it,” she said. “He who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die.”

故事二：《小鬼和小商人》

从前有一个名副其实的学生：他住在一间顶楼里，什么也没有;同时有一个名副其实的小商人，住在第一层楼上，拥有整幢房子。一个小鬼就跟这个小商人住在一起，因为在这儿，在每个圣诞节的前夕，他总能得到一盘麦片粥吃，里面还有一大块黄油!这个小商人能够供给这点东西，所以小鬼就住在他的店里，而这件事是富有教育意义的。

有一天晚上，学生从后门走进来，给自己买点蜡烛和干奶酪。他没有人为他跑腿，因此才亲自来买。他买到了他所需要的东西，也付了钱。小商人和他的太太对他点点头，表示祝他晚安。这位太太能做的事情并不止点头这一项——她还有会讲话的天才!

学生也点了点头。接着他忽然站着不动，读起包干奶酪的那张纸上的字来了。这是从一本旧书上撕下的一页纸。这页纸本来是不应该撕掉的，因为这是一部很旧的诗集。

“这样的书多得是!”小商人说。”我用几粒咖啡豆从一个老太婆那儿换来的。你只要给我三个铜板，就可以把剩下的全部拿去。”

“谢谢，”学生说，”请你给我这本书，把干奶酪收回去吧;我只吃黄油面包就够了。把一整本书撕得乱七八糟，真是一桩罪过。你是一个能干的人，一个讲究实际的人，不过就诗说来，你不会比那个盆子懂得更多。”

这句话说得很没有礼貌，特别是用那个盆子作比喻;但是小商人大笑起来，学生也大笑起来，因为这句话不过是开开玩笑罢了。但是那个小鬼却生了气：居然有人敢对一个卖最好的黄油的商人兼房东说出这样的话来。

黑夜到来了，店铺关上了门;除了学生以外，所有的人都上床去睡了。这时小鬼就走进来，拿起小商人的太太的舌头，因为她在睡觉的时候并不需要它。只要他把这舌头放在屋子里的任何物件上，这物件就能发出声音，讲起话来，而且还可以像太太一样，表示出它的思想和感情。不过一次只能有一件东西利用这舌头，而这倒也是一桩幸事，否则它们就要彼此打断话头了。

小鬼把舌头放在那个装报纸的盆里。”有人说你不懂得诗是什么东西，”他问，”这话是真的吗?”

“我当然懂得，”盆子说，”诗是一种印在报纸上补白的东西，可以随便剪掉不要。我相信，我身体里的诗要比那个学生多得多;但是对小商人说来，我不过是一个没有价值的盆子罢了。”

于是小鬼再把舌头放在一个咖啡磨上。哎唷!咖啡磨简直成了一个话匣子了!于是他又把舌头放在一个黄油桶上，然后又放到钱匣子上——它们的意见都跟盆子的意见一样，而多数人的意见是必须尊重的。

“好吧，我要把这意见告诉那个学生!”

于是小鬼就静悄悄地从一个后楼梯走上学生所住的那间顶楼。房里还点着蜡烛。小鬼从门锁孔里朝里面偷看。他瞧见学生正在读他从楼下拿去的那本破书。

但是这房间里是多么亮啊!那本书里冒出一根亮晶晶的光柱。它扩大成为一根树干，变成了一株大树。它长得非常高，而且它的枝丫还在学生的头上向四面伸展开来。每片叶子都很新鲜，每朵花儿都是一个美女的面孔：脸上的眼睛有的乌黑发亮，有的蓝得分外晶莹。每一个果子都是一颗明亮的星;此外，房里还有美妙的歌声和音乐。

嗨!这样华丽的景象是小鬼从没有想到过的，更谈不上看见过或听到过了。他踮着脚尖站在那儿，望了又望，直到房里的光灭掉为止。学生把灯吹熄，上床睡觉去了。但是小鬼仍旧站在那儿，因为音乐还没有停止，声音既柔和，又美丽;对于躺着休息的学生说来，它真算得是一支美妙的催眠曲。

“这真是美丽极了!”小鬼说。”这真是出乎我的想象之外!

我倒很想跟这学生住在一起哩。”

接着他很有理智地考虑了一下，叹了一口气：”这学生可没有粥给我吃!”所以他仍然走下楼来，回到那个小商人家里去了。他回来得正是时候，因为那个盆子几乎把太太的舌头用烂了：它已经把身子这一面所装的东西全都讲完了，现在它正打算翻转身来把另一面再讲一通。正在这时候，小鬼来到了，把这舌头拿走，还给了太太。不过从这时候起，整个的店——从钱匣一直到木柴——都随声附和盆子了。它们尊敬它，五体投地地佩服它，弄得后来店老板晚间在报纸上读到艺术和戏剧批评文章时，它们都相信这是盆子的意见。

但是小鬼再也没有办法安安静静地坐着，听它们卖弄智慧和学问了。不成，只要顶楼上一有灯光射出来，他就觉得这些光线好像就是锚索，硬要把他拉上去。他不得不爬上去，把眼睛贴着那个小钥匙孔朝里面望。他胸中起了一种豪迈的感觉，就像我们站在波涛汹涌的、正受暴风雨袭击的大海旁边一样。他不禁凄然泪下!他自己也不知道他为什么要流眼泪，不过他在流泪的时候却有一种幸福之感：跟学生一起坐在那株树下该是多么幸福啊!然而这是做不到的事情——他能在小孔里看一下也就很满足了。

他站在寒冷的楼梯上;秋风从阁楼的圆窗吹进来。天气变得非常冷了。不过，只有当顶楼上的灯灭了和音乐停止了的时候，这个小矮子才开始感觉到冷。嗨!这时他就颤抖起来，爬下楼梯，回到他那个温暖的角落里去了。那儿很舒服和安适!

圣诞节的粥和一大块黄油来了——的确，这时他体会到小商人是他的主人。

不过半夜的时候，小鬼被窗扉上一阵可怕的敲击声惊醒了[

]。外面有人在大喊大叫。守夜人在吹号角，因为发生了火灾——整条街上都是一片火焰。火是在自己家里烧起来的呢，还是在隔壁房里烧起来的呢?究竟是在什么地方烧起来的呢?

大家都陷入恐怖中。

小商人的太太给弄糊涂了，连忙扯下耳朵上的金耳环，塞进衣袋，以为这样总算救出了一点东西。小商人则忙着去找他的股票，女佣人跑去找她的黑绸披风——因为她没有钱再买这样一件衣服。每个人都想救出自己最好的东西。小鬼当然也是这样。他几步就跑到楼上，一直跑进学生的房里。学生正泰然自若地站在一个开着的窗子面前，眺望着对面那幢房子里的火焰。小鬼把放在桌上的那本奇书抢过来，塞进自己的小红帽里，同时用双手捧着帽子。现在这一家的最好的宝物总算救出来了!所以他就赶快逃跑，一直跑到屋顶上，跑到烟囱上去。他坐在那儿，对面那幢房子的火光照着他——他双手抱着那顶藏有宝贝的帽子。现在他知道他心里的真正感情，知道他的心真正向着谁了。不过等到火被救熄以后，等到他的头脑冷静下来以后——嗨……”我得把我分给两个人，”他说。”为了那碗粥，我不能舍弃那个小商人!”

这话说得很近人情!我们大家也到小商人那儿去——为了我们的粥。

英文版： 　　The Goblin and the Huckster

There was once a regular student, who lived in a garret, and had no possessions. And there was also a regular huckster, to whom the house belonged, and who occupied the ground floor. A goblin lived with the huckster, because at Christmas he always had a large dish full of jam, with a great piece of butter in the middle. The huckster could afford this; and therefore the goblin remained with the huckster, which was very cunning of him.

One evening the student came into the shop through the back door to buy candles and cheese for himself, he had no one to send, and therefore he came himself; he obtained what he wished, and then the huckster and his wife nodded good evening to him, and she was a woman who could do more than merely nod, for she had usually plenty to say for herself. The student nodded in return as he turned to leave, then suddenly stopped, and began reading the piece of paper in which the cheese was wrapped. It was a leaf torn out of an old book, a book that ought not to have been torn up, for it was full of poetry.

“Yonder lies some more of the same sort,” said the huckster: “I gave an old woman a few coffee berries for it; you shall have the rest for sixpence, if you will.”

“Indeed I will,” said the student; “give me the book instead of the cheese; I can eat my bread and butter without cheese. It would be a sin to tear up a book like this. You are a clever man; and a practical man; but you understand no more about poetry than that cask yonder.”

This was a very rude speech, especially against the cask; but the huckster and the student both laughed, for it was only said in fun. But the goblin felt very angry that any man should venture to say such things to a huckster who was a householder and sold the best butter. As soon as it was night, and the shop closed, and every one in bed except the student, the goblin stepped softly into the bedroom where the huckster’s wife slept, and took away her tongue, which of course, she did not then want. Whatever object in the room he placed his tongue upon immediately received voice and speech, and was able to express its thoughts and feelings as readily as the lady herself could do. It could only be used by one object at a time, which was a good thing, as a number speaking at once would have caused great confusion. The goblin laid the tongue upon the cask, in which lay a quantity of old newspapers.

“Is it really true,” he asked, “that you do not know what poetry is?”

“Of course I know,” replied the cask: “poetry is something that always stand in the corner of a newspaper, and is sometimes cut out; and I may venture to affirm that I have more of it in me than the student has, and I am only a poor tub of the huckster’s.”

Then the goblin placed the tongue on the coffee mill; and how it did go to be sure! Then he put it on the butter tub and the cash box, and they all expressed the same opinion as the waste-paper tub; and a majority must always be respected.

“Now I shall go and tell the student,” said the goblin; and with these words he went quietly up the back stairs to the garret where the student lived. He had a candle burning still, and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw that he was reading in the torn book, which he had brought out of the shop. But how light the room was! From the book shot forth a ray of light which grew broad and full, like the stem of a tree, from which bright rays spread upward and over the student’s head. Each leaf was fresh, and each flower was like a beautiful female head; some with dark and sparkling eyes, and others with eyes that were wonderfully blue and clear. The fruit gleamed like stars, and the room was filled with sounds of beautiful music. The little goblin had never imagined, much less seen or heard of, any sight so glorious as this. He stood still on tiptoe, peeping in, till the light went out in the garret. The student no doubt had blown out his candle and gone to bed; but the little goblin remained standing there nevertheless, and listening to the music which still sounded on, soft and beautiful, a sweet cradle-song for the student, who had lain down to rest.

“This is a wonderful place,” said the goblin; “I never expected such a thing. I should like to stay here with the student;” and the little man thought it over, for he was a sensible little spirit. At last he sighed, “but the student has no jam!” So he went down stairs again into the huckster’s shop, and it was a good thing he got back when he did, for the cask had almost worn out the lady’s tongue; he had given a description of all that he contained on one side, and was just about to turn himself over to the other side to describe what was there, when the goblin entered and restored the tongue to the lady. But from that time forward, the whole shop, from the cash box down to the pinewood logs, formed their opinions from that of the cask; and they all had such confidence in him, and treated him with so much respect, that when the huckster read the criticisms on theatricals and art of an evening, they fancied it must all come from the cask.

But after what he had seen, the goblin could no longer sit and listen quietly to the wisdom and understanding down stairs; so, as soon as the evening light glimmered in the garret, he took courage, for it seemed to him as if the rays of light were strong cables, drawing him up, and obliging him to go and peep through the keyhole; and, while there, a feeling of vastness came over him such as we experience by the ever-moving sea, when the storm breaks forth; and it brought tears into his eyes. He did not himself know why he wept, yet a kind of pleasant feeling mingled with his tears. “How wonderfully glorious it would be to sit with the student under such a tree;” but that was out of the question, he must be content to look through the keyhole, and be thankful for even that.

There he stood on the old landing, with the autumn wind blowing down upon him through the trap-door. It was very cold; but the little creature did not really feel it, till the light in the garret went out, and the tones of music died away. Then how he shivered, and crept down stairs again to his warm corner, where it felt home-like and comfortable. And when Christmas came again, and brought the dish of jam and the great lump of butter, he liked the huckster best of all.

Soon after, in the middle of the night, the goblin was awoke by a terrible noise and knocking against the window shutters and the house doors, and by the sound of the watchman’s horn; for a great fire had broken out, and the whole street appeared full of flames. Was it in their house, or a neighbor’s? No one could tell, for terror had seized upon all. The huckster’s wife was so bewildered that she took her gold ear-rings out of her ears and put them in her pocket, that she might save something at least. The huckster ran to get his business papers, and the servant resolved to save her blue silk mantle, which she had managed to buy. Each wished to keep the best things they had. The goblin had the same wish; for, with one spring, he was up stairs and in the student’s room, whom he found standing by the open window, and looking quite calmly at the fire, which was raging at the house of a neighbor opposite. The goblin caught up the wonderful book which lay on the table, and popped it into his red cap, which he held tightly with both hands. The greatest treasure in the house was saved; and he ran away with it to the roof, and seated himself on the chimney. The flames of the burning house opposite illuminated him as he sat, both hands pressed tightly over his cap, in which the treasure lay; and then he found out what feelings really reigned in his heart, and knew exactly which way they tended. And yet, when the fire was extinguished, and the goblin again began to reflect, he hesitated, and said at last, “I must divide myself between the two; I cannot quite give up the huckster, because of the jam.”

And this is a representation of human nature. We are like the goblin; we all go to visit the huckster “because of the jam.”

故事三：《一个豆荚里的五粒豆》

有一个豆荚，里面有五粒豌豆。它们都是绿的，因此它们就以为整个世界都是绿的。事实也正是这样!豆荚在生长，豆粒也在生长。它们按照它们在家庭里的地位，坐成一排。太阳在外边照着，把豆荚晒得暖洋洋的;雨把它洗得透明。这儿是既温暖，又舒适;白天有亮，晚间黑暗，这本是必然的规律。豌豆粒坐在那儿越长越大，同时也越变得沉思起来，因为它们多少得做点事情呀。

“难道我们永远就在这儿坐下去么?”它们问。”我只愿老这样坐下去，不要变得僵硬起来。我似乎觉得外面发生了一些事情——我有这种预感!”

许多星期过去了。这几粒豌豆变黄了，豆荚也变黄了。

“整个世界都在变黄啦!”它们说。它们也可以这样说。

忽然它们觉得豆荚震动了一下。它被摘下来了，落到人的手上，跟许多别的丰满的豆荚在一起，溜到一件马甲的口袋里去。

“我们不久就要被打开了!”它们说。于是它们就等待这件事情的到来。

“我倒想要知道，我们之中谁会走得最远!”最小的一粒豆说。”是的，事情马上就要揭晓了。”

“该怎么办就怎么办!”最大的那一粒说。

“啪!”豆荚裂开来了。那五粒豆子全都滚到太阳光里来了。它们躺在一个孩子的手中。这个孩子紧紧地捏着它们，说它们正好可以当作豆枪的子弹用。他马上安一粒进去，把它射出来。

“现在我要飞向广大的世界里去了!如果你能捉住我，那么就请你来吧!”于是它就飞走了。

“我，”第二粒说，”我将直接飞进太阳里去。这才像一个豆荚呢，而且与我的身份非常相称!”

于是它就飞走了。

“我们到了什么地方，就在什么地方睡，”其余的两粒说。

“不过我们仍得向前滚。”因此它们在没有到达豆枪以前，就先在地上滚起来。但是它们终于被装进去了。”我们才会射得最远呢!”

“该怎么办就怎么办!”最后的那一粒说。它射到空中去了。它射到顶楼窗子下面一块旧板子上，正好钻进一个长满了青苔的霉菌的裂缝里去。青苔把它裹起来。它躺在那儿不见了，可是我们的上帝并没忘记它。

“应该怎么办就怎么办!”它说。

在这个小小的顶楼里住着一个穷苦的女人。她白天到外面去擦炉子，锯木材，并且做许多类似的粗活，因为她很强壮，而且也很勤俭，不过她仍然是很穷。她有一个发育不全的独生女儿，躺在这顶楼上的家里。她的身体非常虚弱。她在床上躺了一整年;看样子既活不下去，也死不了。

“她快要到她亲爱的姐姐那儿去了!”女人说。”我只有两个孩子，但是养活她们两个人是够困难的。善良的上帝分担我的愁苦，已经接走一个了。我现在把留下的这一个养着。不过我想他不会让她们分开的;她也会到她天上的姐姐那儿去的。”

可是这个病孩子并没有离开。她安静地、耐心地整天在家里躺着，她的母亲到外面去挣点生活的费用。这正是春天。一大早，当母亲正要出去工作的时候，太阳温和地、愉快地从那个小窗子射进来，一直射到地上。这个病孩子望着最低的那块窗玻璃。

“从窗玻璃旁边探出头来的那个绿东西是什么呢?它在风里摆动!”

母亲走到窗子那儿去，把窗打开一半。”啊”她说，”我的天，这原来是一粒小豌豆。它还长出小叶子来了。它怎样钻进这个隙缝里去的?你现在可有一个小花园来供你欣赏了!”

病孩子的床搬得更挨近窗子，好让她看到这粒正在生长着的豌豆。于是母亲便出去做她的工作了。

“妈妈，我觉得我好了一些!”这个小姑娘在晚间说。”太阳今天在我身上照得怪温暖的。这粒豆子长得好极了，我也会长得好的;我将爬起床来，走到温暖的太阳光中去。”

“愿上帝准我们这样!”母亲说，但是她不相信事情就会这样。不过她仔细地用一根小棍子把这植物支起来，好使它不致被风吹断，因为它使她的女儿对生命起了愉快的想象。她从窗台上牵了一根线到窗框的上端去，使这粒豆可以盘绕着它向上长，它的确在向上长——人们每天可以看到它在生长。

“真的，它现在要开花了!”女人有一天早晨说。她现在开始希望和相信，她的病孩子会好起来。她记起最近这孩子讲话时要比以前愉快得多，而且最近几天她自己也能爬起来，直直地坐在床上，用高兴的眼光望着这一颗豌豆所形成的小花园。一星期以后，这个病孩子第一次能够坐一整个钟头。她快乐地坐在温暖的太阳光里。窗子打开了，它面前是一朵盛开的、粉红色的豌豆花。小姑娘低下头来，把它柔嫩的叶子轻轻地吻了一下。这一天简直像一个节日。

“我幸福的孩子，上帝亲自种下这颗豌豆，叫它长得枝叶茂盛，成为你我的希望和快乐!”高兴的母亲说。她对这花儿微笑，好像它就是上帝送下来的一位善良的安琪儿。

但是其余的几粒豌豆呢?嗯，那一粒曾经飞到广大的世界上去，并且还说过”如果你能捉住我，那末就请你来吧!”

它落到屋顶的水笕里去了，在一个鸽子的嗉囊里躺下来，正如约拿躺在鲸鱼肚中一样。那两粒懒惰的豆子也不过只走了这么远，因为它们也被鸽子吃掉了。总之，它们总还算有些实际的用途。可是那第四粒，它本来想飞进太阳里去，但是却落到水沟里去了，在脏水里躺了好几个星期，而且涨大得相当可观。

“我胖得够美了!”这粒豌豆说。”我胖得要爆裂开来。我想，任何豆子从来不曾、也永远不会达到这种地步的。我是豆荚里五粒豆子中最了不起的一粒。”

水沟说它讲得很有道理。

可是顶楼窗子旁那个年轻的女孩子——她脸上射出健康的光彩，她的眼睛发着亮光——正在豌豆花上面交叉着一双小手，感谢上帝。

水沟说：”我支持我的那粒豆子。”

英文版： 　　The Pea Blossom

There were once five peas in one shell, they were green, the shell was green, and so they believed that the whole world must be green also, which was a very natural conclusion. The shell grew, and the peas grew, they accommodated themselves to their position, and sat all in a row. The sun shone without and warmed the shell, and the rain made it clear and transparent; it was mild and agreeable in broad daylight, and dark at night, as it generally is; and the peas as they sat there grew bigger and bigger, and more thoughtful as they mused, for they felt there must be something else for them to do.

“Are we to sit here forever?” asked one; “shall we not become hard by sitting so long? It seems to me there must be something outside, and I feel sure of it.”

And as weeks passed by, the peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow.

“All the world is turning yellow, I suppose,” said they,—and perhaps they were right.

Suddenly they felt a pull at the shell; it was torn off, and held in human hands, then slipped into the pocket of a jacket in company with other full pods.

“Now we shall soon be opened,” said one,—just what they all wanted.

“I should like to know which of us will travel furthest,” said the smallest of the five; “we shall soon see now.”

“What is to happen will happen,” said the largest pea.

“Crack” went the shell as it burst, and the five peas rolled out into the bright sunshine. There they lay in a child’s hand. A little boy was holding them tightly, and said they were fine peas for his pea-shooter. And immediately he put one in and shot it out.

“Now I am flying out into the wide world,” said he; “catch me if you can;” and he was gone in a moment.

“I,” said the second, “intend to fly straight to the sun, that is a shell that lets itself be seen, and it will suit me exactly;” and away he went.

“We will go to sleep wherever we find ourselves,” said the two next, “we shall still be rolling onwards;” and they did certainly fall on the floor, and roll about before they got into the pea-shooter; but they were put in for all that. “We shall go farther than the others,” said they.

“What is to happen will happen,” exclaimed the last, as he was shot out of the pea-shooter; and as he spoke he flew up against an old board under a garret-window, and fell into a little crevice, which was almost filled up with moss and soft earth. The moss closed itself round him, and there he lay, a captive indeed, but not unnoticed by God.

“What is to happen will happen,” said he to himself.

Within the little garret lived a poor woman, who went out to clean stoves, chop wood into small pieces and perform such-like hard work, for she was strong and industrious. Yet she remained always poor, and at home in the garret lay her only daughter, not quite grown up, and very delicate and weak. For a whole year she had kept her bed, and it seemed as if she could neither live nor die.

“She is going to her little sister,” said the woman; “I had but the two children, and it was not an easy thing to support both of them; but the good God helped me in my work, and took one of them to Himself and provided for her. Now I would gladly keep the other that was left to me, but I suppose they are not to be separated, and my sick girl will very soon go to her sister above.” But the sick girl still remained where she was, quietly and patiently she lay all the day long, while her mother was away from home at her work.

Spring came, and one morning early the sun shone brightly through the little window, and threw its rays over the floor of the room. just as the mother was going to her work, the sick girl fixed her gaze on the lowest pane of the window—“Mother,” she exclaimed, “what can that little green thing be that peeps in at the window? It is moving in the wind.”

The mother stepped to the window and half opened it. “Oh!” she said, “there is actually a little pea which has taken root and is putting out its green leaves. How could it have got into this crack? Well now, here is a little garden for you to amuse yourself with.” So the bed of the sick girl was drawn nearer to the window, that she might see the budding plant; and the mother went out to her work.

“Mother, I believe I shall get well,” said the sick child in the evening, “the sun has shone in here so brightly and warmly to-day, and the little pea is thriving so well: I shall get on better, too, and go out into the warm sunshine again.”

“God grant it!” said the mother, but she did not believe it would be so. But she propped up with the little stick the green plant which had given her child such pleasant hopes of life, so that it might not be broken by the winds; she tied the piece of string to the window-sill and to the upper part of the frame, so that the pea-tendrils might twine round it when it shot up. And it did shoot up, indeed it might almost be seen to grow from day to day.

“Now really here is a flower coming,” said the old woman one morning, and now at last she began to encourage the hope that her sick daughter might really recover. She remembered that for some time the child had spoken more cheerfully, and during the last few days had raised herself in bed in the morning to look with sparkling eyes at her little garden which contained only a single pea-plant. A week after, the invalid sat up for the first time a whole hour, feeling quite happy by the open window in the warm sunshine, while outside grew the little plant, and on it a pink pea-blossom in full bloom. The little maiden bent down and gently kissed the delicate leaves. This day was to her like a festival.

“Our heavenly Father Himself has planted that pea, and made it grow and flourish, to bring joy to you and hope to me, my blessed child,” said the happy mother, and she smiled at the flower, as if it had been an angel from God.

But what became of the other peas? Why the one who flew out into the wide world, and said, “Catch me if you can,” fell into a gutter on the roof of a house, and ended his travels in the crop of a pigeon. The two lazy ones were carried quite as far, for they also were eaten by pigeons, so they were at least of some use; but the fourth, who wanted to reach the sun, fell into a sink and lay there in the dirty water for days and weeks, till he had swelled to a great size.

“I am getting beautifully fat,” said the pea, “I expect I shall burst at last; no pea could do more that that, I think; I am the most remarkable of all the five which were in the shell.” And the sink confirmed the opinion.

But the young maiden stood at the open garret window, with sparkling eyes and the rosy hue of health on her cheeks, she folded her thin hands over the pea-blossom, and thanked God for what He had done.

“I,” said the sink, “shall stand up for my pea.”