安徒生童话全集（精编）——中文导读英文版（中篇）
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作者： （丹麦）安徒生 原著，纪飞 编译
出 版 社： 清华大学出版社
出版时间： 2006-10-1字数： 359000版次： 12页数： 331印刷时间： 2008/03/01开本： 16开印次： 3纸张： 胶版纸I S B N ： 9787302137894包装： 平装编辑推荐
在童话世界里，安徒生这个名字像一座永恒的丰碑，闪耀着最辉煌的光芒。他的一生共创作有一百六十多篇美丽的童话，本书现将他所有的作品收编于上中下三册中。 童话的情节曲折动人，童话的主人公幸福无比。打开本书，让我们畅游在安徒生童话的美妙世界中，把生活创造的更美丽。
内容简介
安徒生童话是一部以童话而名扬世界的文学巨著，它是由丹麦著名诗人、童话作家安徒生历时近40年创作而成。“丑小鸭”、“皇帝的新装”、“ 拇指姑娘”和“卖火柴的小女孩”伴随了一代又一代人的美丽童年、少年直至成年。安徒生童话问世一百多年来，至今仍被译成世界上140种文字，而其中英文译本更是不计其数。本书选用的是最著名的英文译本之一，为了使读者能够了解英文童话故事概况，进而提高阅读速度和阅读水平，在每篇英文童话故事的开始部分增加了中文导读。
作者简介
汉斯克里斯蒂安安徒生（Hans Christian Ander-sen，1805-1875）是名扬世界的童话大师。安徒生1805年4月出生于丹麦中部富恩岛上的奥登塞小镇，他编著的童话故事伴随一代又一代人的美丽童年、少年直至成年，其中《卖火柴的小女孩》、《皇帝的新装》、《丑小鸭》、《白雪皇后》等已成为世界童话宝库中的经典。
安徒生的童话同民间文学有着血缘关系，继承并发扬了民间文学朴素清新的格调。他早期的作品大多取材于民间故事，后期创作中也引用了很多民间歌谣和传说。在体裁和写作手法上，安徒生的作品是多样化的，有童话故事，也有短篇小说；有寓言，也有诗歌；既适合于儿童阅读，也适合于成年人鉴赏。在语言风格上，安徒生是一个有高度创造性的作家，在作品中大量运用丹麦下层人民的日常口语和民间故事的结构形式。语言生动、自然、流畅、优美，充满浓郁的乡土气息。
目录
中 篇
40. 邻居们/ The Neighbouring Families351
41. 飞箱/ The Flying Trunk362
42. 影子/ The Shadow370
43. 老房子/ The Old House383
44. 园丁和主人/ The Gardener and the Family391
45. 铜猪/ The Metal Pig399
46. 烂布片/ The Rags412
47. 谁是最幸运的/ Who Was the Luckiest?415
48. 树精/ The Dryad420
49. 梦神/ Ole Luk-Oie441
50. 蓟的遭遇/ The Thistle抯 Experiences455
51. 跳蚤和教授/ The Flea and the Professor460
52. 开门的钥匙/ The Door-Key466
53. 跛子/ The Cripple478
54. 猪倌/ The Swineherd488
55. 牙痛姑妈/ Auntie Toothache495
56. 神方/ The Talisman506
57. 哇哇报/ Croak510
58. 安琪儿/ The Angel513
59. 纸牌/ The Court Cards518
60. 幸运的贝儿/ Lucky Peer523
61. 丑小鸭/ The Ugly Ducking592
62. 幸福的家庭/ The Happy Family603
63. 衬衫领子/ The Shirt Collar607
64. 凤凰/ The Phoenix Bird611
65. 枞树/ The Fir Tree613
66. 一本不说话的书/ The Dumb Book624
67. 区别/ 揟here Is a Difference?627
68. 一年的故事/ The Story of the Year631
69. 白雪皇后/ The Snow Queen640
70. 最后的一天/ On the Last Day671
71. 完全是真的/ 揑t抯 Quite True!?675
72. 小鬼和小商人/ The Goblin and the Huckster678
书摘插图
superiority over mankind!”
“They have learnt swimming, though,” said a little freshwater fish. “I am from the big lake; men go into the water in the hot season there, but first they put off their shells, and then they swim. The frogs have taught them that, they push with the hind-legs, and paddle with the fore-legs; they can’t keep it up long. They would like to imitate us, but they don’t get near it. Poor men!”
And the fishes stared; they imagined that the whole crowd of people they had seen in the strong daylight was still moving here; yes, they were convinced that they still saw the same forms which, so to speak, first struck their nerves of appre-hension.
A little perch, with beautifully striped skin, and an enviable round back, as
serted that the “human mud” was there still; he saw it. “I also see it; it is so distinct!” said a jaundice-yellow tench. “I see plainly the
beautiful well-shaped human figure, ‘high-legged lady’ or whatever it was they called her; she had our mouth and staring eyes, two balloons behind, and an um-brella let down in front, a great quantity of hanging duck-weed dingling and dan-
gling. She should put it all off, go like us in the guise of nature, and she would look
like a respectable tench, as far as human beings can do so!”
“What became of him — he on the string, the male — they dragged?”
“He rode in a bath-chair, sat with paper, pen and ink, and wrote everything down. What was he doing? They called him a reporter. ”
“He is riding about there still,” said a moss-grown maiden carp, with the trials of the world in her throat, so that she was hoarse with it; she had once swallowed a fish- hook, and still swam patiently about with it in her throat.
“A reporter,” she said, “that is, speaking plainly and fishily, a kind of cuttle fish among men. ”
So the fishes talked in their own manner. But in the midst of the artificial grotto sounded the blows of hammers and the songs of the work-people; they must work at night, so that everything might be finished as soon as possible. They sang in the Dryad’s summer night’s dream, she herself stood there, ready to fly and vanish.
“They are gold-fish!” said she, and nodded to them. “So I have managed to see you after all! I know you! I have known you a long time! The swallow has told me about you in my home country. How pretty you are, how glittering and charming! I could kiss each and all of you! I know the others also! That is certainly the fat tench; that one there, the dainty bream; and here, the old moss-grown carp! I know
you! but you don’t know me!”
The fish stared and did not understand a single word; they stared out into the dim light. The Dryad was there no longer, she stood out in the open air, where the world’s “wonder-blossoms” from the different countries gave out their fragrance, from the land of rye-bread, from the coast of the stock-fish, the empire of Russia leather, the riverbanks of Eau-de-Cologne, and from the eastern land of the essence
When, after a ball, we drive home, half-asleep, the tunes we have heard still
sound distinctly in our ears; we could sing each and all of them. And as in the
eye of a murdered man, the last thing the glance rested on is said to remain pho-tographed on it for a time, so here in the night the bustle and glare of the day was
not extinguished. The Dryad felt it and knew that it would roll on in the same way through the coming day.
The Dryad stood amongst the fragrant roses, thinking that she recognized them from her home, roses from the park of the castle and from the priest’s garden. She also saw the red pomegranate flower here; Marie had worn one like it in her coal-
Memories from the home of her childhood out in the country flashed through
her mind; she drank in the sights round about her with greedy eyes, whilst feverish
restlessness possessed her, and carried her through the wonderful halls. She felt tired, and this tiredness increased. She had a longing to rest upon the
soft Eastern cushions and carpets spread around, or to lean against the weeping-
willow down by the clear water, and plunge herself into that. But the Ephemera has no rest. The day was only a few minutes from the end.
Her thoughts trembled, her limbs trembled, she sank down on the grass, by the
“Thou springest from the earth with lasting life!” said she; “cool my tongue, give me refreshment!”
“I am not the living fountain!” answered the water. “I flow by machinery!”
“Give me of thy freshness, thou green grass,” begged the Dryad. “Give me one of the fragrant flowers!”
“We die when we are broken off!” answered the grass and flowers.
“Kiss me thou fresh breeze! Only one single kiss of life!”
“Soon the sun will kiss the clouds red,” said the wind, “and then wilt thou be
amongst the dead, passed away, as all the splendour here will pass away, before the
year is gone, and I can again play with the light, loose sand in the square here, and
blow the dust along over the ground, dust in the air, dust! All dust!” The Dyrad felt a dread, like that of the woman who in the bath has cut an artery
and is bleeding to death, but while bleeding wishes still to live. She raised herself, came some steps forward and again sank down in front of a little church. The door stood open, candles burned on the altar, and the organ pealed.
What music! such tones the Dryad had never heard, and yet she seemed to hear in them well-known voices. They came from the depths of the heart of the whole creation. She thought she heard the rustling of the old oak tree, she thought she heard the old priest talking about great deeds, and about famous names, and of what God’s creatures had power to give as a gift to future times, and must give it in order to win, by that means, eternal life for itself.
The tones of the organ swelled and pealed, and spoke in song: “Thy longing and desire uprooted thee from thy God-given place. It became thy ruin, poor Dry-ad!”
The organ tones, soft and mild, sounded as if weeping, dying away in tears. The clouds shone red in the sky. The wind whistled and sang, “Pass away, ye
Dead, the sun is rising!”
The first beam fell on the Dryad. Her form shone in changing colours, like the
soap-bubble when it breaks, vanishes and becomes a drop, a tear which falls to the
ground and disappears.
Poor Dryad! a dew-drop, only a tear, shed, vanished!
The sun shone over the “Fata Morgana” on the Field of Mars, shone over the Great Paris, over the little square with the trees and the splashing fountain, amongst the tall houses, where the chestnut tree stood, but with drooping branches, with-ered leaves, the tree which only yesterday lifted itself as fresh and full of life as the
spring itself. Now it was dead, they said. The Dryad had gone, passed away like the cloud, no one knew whither.
There lay on the ground a withered, broken chestnut flower; the holy water of the Church had no power to call it to life. The foot of man soon trod it down into
The whole of this actually happened, we saw it ourselves at the Paris Exhibition in 1867, in our own time, in the great, wonderful, time of fairy-tale.
49. 梦 神
Ole Luk-Oie
梦神奥列路却埃会讲很多故事，他是小孩子的好朋友。黑夜来临的时候，他会在孩子们的眼睛里喷上一点儿甜蜜的牛奶，将他们送到床上安静下来，这样他才能开始讲故事。孩子们睡着之后，梦神就在床边坐下来，他将一把绘着彩色图画的伞在好孩子的上面撑开，让他们一夜都可以梦见美丽的故事，而为那些顽皮的孩子们撑开的伞上什么也没有画，当他们早上醒来就觉得什么梦也没有做过。现在我们就来看看梦神在一个星期之中为一个名叫哈尔马的孩子讲了怎样的七个故事。
星 期 一
哈尔马梦见花盆里的花儿变成了大树，整个房间看起来像一个花亭一样美丽，但在他放课本的抽屉里，却发出一阵可怕的哭声。梦神拉开抽屉，原来是写字的石板在抽筋，因为错误的数字总想搅到总和里面去捣乱。这时练习簿又发出一阵哀叫，因为哈尔马模仿范本写出来的字东倒西歪，越出了线条。梦神让它们笔直地站起来，它们却不肯，它们说自己身体不好。在梦神的要挟和操练下，它们整齐健康，看上去和任何范本一样。可是，哈尔马早上醒来的时候，它们又恢复了原来的样子，显得愁眉苦脸。
星 期 二
梦神在房间里所有的家具上都喷上了富有魔力的牛奶。这样，所有家具就都开始谈论起自己，只有墙角的痰盂默不作声，在心里抱怨大家自私和虚荣，一点儿也不顾及谦虚和乐于奉献的它。衣柜顶上挂着一幅风景画，里面的河流绕过
梦神
许多宫殿一直流向大洋。梦神在画上也喷了一口牛奶，画里的鸟儿就开始歌唱起来，树枝也摇动着腰肢。梦神将哈尔马抱到画中，他坐到湖中的一只小船上，开始了美丽的航行。当哈尔马的小船穿过宫殿时，他看见几位公主——都是他熟悉的小女孩。他继续扬帆航行，有时穿过森林，有时穿过大厅。当哈尔马来到他保姆住的那个城市时，他看到保姆在向他招手，还念着那首她为哈尔马编的诗。
星 期 三
窗外下着很大的雨，哈尔马在梦中都可以听见雨声。梦神推窗进来的时候，哈尔马看到窗外成了一个湖，屋子旁边还停着一只漂亮的小船。于是哈尔马穿上漂亮的衣服，踏上这只船。天气立刻晴朗起来，哈尔马跟着梦神驶过好几条街道，他们面前展开一片汪洋大海。他们航行了很长时间，现在已经完全看不见陆地了。一群鹳鸟正在向温暖的国度飞去。其中一只因为疲倦落到了甲板上。船上的侍役将鹳鸟捉住与鸡鸭关在一起，鸡鸭们不停地嘲弄着鹳鸟，可怜的鹳鸟在它们中间显得垂头丧气。于是哈尔马将鹳鸟放了出来，让它继续向温暖的国度飞去。哈尔马对那些愚蠢的鸡鸭们说，明天就把你们拿来烧汤吃。说完这句话，哈尔马就醒了。
星 期 四
这一天晚上，梦神带来一只小耗子，它是来邀请哈尔马去参加一场婚礼的——有两个小耗子要结为夫妇了，它们的婚礼就在食物储藏室的地下举行。梦神将哈尔马的身体变小了，给他穿上了锡兵的制服，让他坐在妈妈的顶针上。小耗子拉着哈尔马穿过用腊肉皮擦过的地下通道来到了举行婚礼的大厅，这里也是用腊肉皮擦过的，屋子里站满了来参加婚礼的耗子先生和太太们。新郎和新娘在大厅的中央忘情地接吻。婚礼用来招待客人们的酒菜就是那块腊肉皮啦，还有一粒写着新郎和新娘名字的豌豆作点心。小耗子们都认为这场婚礼很漂亮，招待也很令人满意。婚礼结束了，哈尔马又坐着顶针回到了家中。
星 期 五
梦神带哈尔马去参加另一个不同的婚礼——哈尔马妹妹的两个玩偶的婚礼。这是一次十分华丽的婚礼。新郎和新娘坐在纸做的房子里若有所思，而梦神穿上了祖母的黑裙子，特地来主持这个婚礼。婚礼结束之后，所有的家具合唱起一首美丽的歌曲，在歌声中新郎和新娘开始接受礼品。但是他们拒绝收受任何食物，因为他们打算以爱情为食粮而生活下去。然后就关于去旅行的问题，他们请教了经常去旅行的燕子和生了五窝孩子的老母鸡。燕子讲了许多关于那些美丽的温带国度的事情，而老母鸡则认为这里没有凶恶的动物，也没有强盗，所以自己的国家是最美的。一番激烈的争论之后，新郎和新娘决定还是到门外的沙坑去，在油
星 期 六梦神将他那把非常美丽的伞在孩子的头上撑开，整个伞看起来就像一个中国的大碗，里面有蓝色的树，拱起的桥，上面还有小巧的中国人在站着点头。
梦神对哈尔马讲了很多话，他告诉哈尔马，因为明天是星期天，所以要将整个世界都洗刷干净，而最艰巨的任务是：他要将天上的每个星星都摘下来擦洗干净，再把它们放回原位。这时，挂在哈尔马床头的一幅老画像说话了，他是哈尔马的曾祖父，他不希望梦神将哈尔马的脑子弄得糊里糊涂，因为星星是不能被摘下来的。梦神很不高兴，收起他的那把伞走了。老画像也发了几句牢骚，于是哈
星 期 天
哈尔马又缠着梦神给他讲故事了，可是梦神却要介绍一个人给他认识。这个人就是梦神的弟弟，名字和梦神一样——也是奥列路却埃，但他拜访一个人从来不超过一次。他总把人们抱到马上，听他讲故事，他只知道两个故事——一个极端美丽，而另一个则极端丑恶和可怕。原来，梦神的弟弟就是死神。哈尔马来到窗前，看着死神骑马奔驰而来，将他要带走的人抱到马上，那些通知簿上写有好评语的人就坐在死神的身前，听美丽的故事，而那些评语不好的人就只能坐在死神的身后，听可怕的故事。
梦神告诉哈尔马不必害怕他的弟弟，只要时时注意使自己的通知簿上写上好的评语就行了！这时，墙上的曾祖父画像很满意，他觉得这很有教育意义。
这就是梦神的故事，今晚他还能对你多讲一些。
T here’s nobody in the whole world who knows so many stories as Ole Luk-
Oie. He can tell capital histories.
Well on in the evening, when the children still sit nicely at table, or upon their
stools, Ole Luk-Oie comes. He comes up the stairs quite softly, for he walks in his
socks: he opens the door noiselessly, and whisk! he squirts sweet milk in the chil-dren’s eyes, a small, small stream, but enough to prevent them from keeping their
eyes open; and thus they cannot see him. He creeps just among them, and blows softly upon their necks, and this makes their heads heavy. Yes, but it doesn’t hurt
them, for Ole Luk-Oie is very fond of the children; he only wants them to be quiet, and that they are not until they are taken to bed: they are to be quiet that he may tell
them stories. When the children sleep, Ole Luk-Oie sits down upon their bed.
dressed: his coat is of silk, but it is impossible to say of what colour, for it shines
red, green, and blue, according as he turns. Under each arm he carries an umbrella:
the one with pictures on it he spreads over the good children, and then they dream all night the most glorious stories; but on his other umbrella nothing at all is pain-ted: this he spreads over the naughty children, and these sleep in a dull way, and
when they awake in the morning they have not dreamed of anything.
Now we shall hear how Ole Luk-Oie, every evening through one whole week, came to a little boy named Hjalmar, and what he told him. There are seven stories, for there are seven days in the week.
MONDAY
“Listen,” said Ole Luk-Oie in the evening, when he had put Hjalmar to bed; “now I’ll decorate.” And all the flowers in the flower-pots became great trees, stretching out their long branches under the ceiling of the room and along the walls, so that the whole room looked like a beauteous bower; and all the twigs were covered with flowers, and each flower was more beautiful than a rose, and smelt so sweet that one wanted to eat it — it was sweeter than jam. The fruit gleamed like gold, and there were cakes bursting with raisins. It was incomparably beautiful. But at the same time a terrible wail sounded from the table drawer, where Hjalmar’s school-book lay.
“Whatever can that be?” said Ole Luk-Oie; and he went to the table, and
opened the drawer. It was the slate which was suffering from convulsions, for a
wrong number had got into the sum, so that it was nearly falling in pieces; the slate
pencil tugged and jumped at its string, as if it had been a little dog who wanted to help the sum; but he could not. And thus there was a great lamentation in Hjal-mar’s copy-book; it was quite terrible to hear. On each page the great letters stood
in a row, one underneath the other, and each with a little one at its side; that was
the copy; and next to these were a few more letters which thought they looked just like the first; and these Hjalmar had written; but they lay down just as if they had tumbled over the pencil lines on which they were to stand.
“See, this is how you should hold yourselves,” said the Copy. “Look, sloping in
this way, with a powerful swing!” “Oh, we should be very glad to do that,”
replied Hjalmar’s Letters, “but we cannot; we are too weakly.”
“Then you must take medicine,” said Ole Luk-Oie.
“Oh, no,” cried they; and they immediately stood up so gracefully that it was
beautiful to behold.
“Yes, now we cannot tell any stories,” said Ole Luk-Oie; “now I must exercise them. One, two! one, two!” and thus he exercised the Letters; and they stood quite slender, and as beautiful as any copy can be. But when Ole Luk-Oie went away, and Hjalmar looked at them next morning, they were as weak and miserable as
TUESDAY
As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole Luk-Oie touched all the furniture in the room with his little magic squirt, and they immediately began to converse together, and each one spoke of itself, with the exception of the spittoon, which stood silent, and was vexed that they should be so vain as to speak only of themselves, and think only of themselves, without any regard for him who stood so modestly in the corner for every one’s use.
Over the chest of drawers hung a great picture in a gilt frame — it was a land-
One saw therein large old trees, flowers in the grass, and a large lake with a river which flowed round about a forest, past many castles, and far out into the
Ole Luk-Oie touched the painting with his magic squirt, and the birds in it be-gan to sing, the branches of the trees stirred, and the clouds began to move across
