- 相關(guān)推薦
安徒生童話故事第85篇：老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話中英文版本
在平平淡淡的日常中，大家都有令自己印象深刻的童話吧，童話故事是指兒童文學(xué)的一種體裁，童話中豐富的想象和夸張可以活躍你的思維；你還記得哪些童話故事呢？下面是小編整理的安徒生童話故事第85篇：老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話中英文版本，僅供參考，歡迎大家閱讀。
安徒生童話故事第：老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話中英文版本 1
在一個(gè)樹林里，在寬廣的海岸旁的一個(gè)陡坡上，立著一株很老的櫟樹。它的年紀(jì)恰恰是三百六十五歲，不過對(duì)于這樹說來，這段時(shí)間也只是等于我們?nèi)说娜倭鍌�(gè)晝夜。我們白天醒過來，晚上睡過去，于是我們就做起夢(mèng)來。樹可就不是這樣。它一年有三個(gè)季節(jié)是醒著的，只有到冬天，它才去睡覺。冬天是它睡眠的季節(jié)，是它度過了春、夏、秋這一個(gè)漫長(zhǎng)的白晝以后的夜晚。
在許多夏天的日子里，蜉蝣環(huán)繞著這樹的簇頂跳起舞來，生活著，飛舞著，感到幸福。然后這小小的生物就在安靜的幸福感中，躺在一片新鮮的大櫟樹葉子上休息。這時(shí)樹兒就說：
“可憐的小東西!你整個(gè)的生命也不過只有一天!太短了!這真是悲哀!”
“悲哀!”蜉蝣總是這樣回答說�！澳氵@話是什么意思?一切是這樣無比的光明、溫暖和美麗。我真感到快樂!”
“然而也不過只有一天，接著什么都完了!”
“完了!”蜉蝣說�！笆裁赐炅�?你也完了嗎?”
“沒有。像你那樣的日子，我恐怕要活到幾千幾萬個(gè)。我的一天包括一年所有的季節(jié)!它是那么長(zhǎng)，你簡(jiǎn)直沒有方法計(jì)算出來!”
“是嗎?那我就不了解你了!你說你有幾千幾萬個(gè)像我這樣的日子，可是我有幾千幾萬個(gè)片刻;在這些片刻中我能夠感到快樂和幸福。當(dāng)你死了以后，難道這個(gè)世界的一切美景就會(huì)不再有嗎?”
“當(dāng)然會(huì)有的，”樹兒說;“它會(huì)永遠(yuǎn)地存在——存在得出乎我想像之外地久遠(yuǎn)。”
“這樣說來.我們所有的時(shí)間是一樣的了，只不過我們計(jì)算的方法不同罷了!”
蜉蝣在空中飛著，舞著，欣賞它那像薄紗和天鵝絨一樣精致的翅膀，欣賞帶來原野上的車軸草、籬笆上的野玫瑰、接骨木樹和金銀花的香氣的熏風(fēng)，欣賞車葉草、櫻草花和野薄荷。這些花兒的香味是那么強(qiáng)烈，蜉蝣覺得幾乎要醉了。日子是漫長(zhǎng)而美麗的，充滿了快樂和甜蜜感。當(dāng)太陽低低地沉落的時(shí)候，這只小飛蟲感到一種歡樂后的愉快的倦意。它的翅膀已經(jīng)不想再托住它了;于是它便輕輕地、慢慢地沿著柔軟的草葉溜下來，盡可能地點(diǎn)了幾下頭，然后便安靜地睡去——同時(shí)也死了。
“可憐的小蜉蝣!”櫟樹說�！斑@種生命真是短促得可怕!”
每年夏天它跳著同樣的舞，講著同樣的話，回答著同樣的問題，而且同樣地睡去。蜉蝣世世代代地重復(fù)著這同樣的事情;它們都感到同樣地快樂和幸福。老櫟樹在它春天的早晨、夏天的中午和秋天的晚上，一直是站在那兒，沒有睡。現(xiàn)在它的休息的時(shí)刻，它的夜，馬上就要來了，因?yàn)槎煲徊揭徊降亟咏恕?/p>
暴風(fēng)雨已經(jīng)唱起了歌：“晚安!晚安!”這里有一片葉子落下來，那里又有一片葉子落下來了!“我們摘下葉子，我們摘下葉子!看你能不能睡著!我們唱歌使你睡著，我們把你搖得睡著，這對(duì)于你的老枝子是有好處的，是不是?它們似乎快樂得裂開了!甜蜜地睡去吧!甜蜜地睡去吧!這是你的第三百六十五個(gè)夜呀!按規(guī)矩說，你還不過是一個(gè)剛剛滿一歲的孩子!甜蜜地睡去吧!云塊撒下雪來，這是一層毯子，一層蓋在你腳上的溫暖的被子。愿你甜蜜地睡去，做些愉快的夢(mèng)吧!”
老櫟樹立在那兒，葉子都光了;它要睡過這漫長(zhǎng)的冬天，要做許多夢(mèng)——夢(mèng)著它所經(jīng)歷過的事情，像人類所做的夢(mèng)一樣。
它曾經(jīng)一度也是很小的——的確，那時(shí)它的搖籃不過是一顆櫧子。照人類的計(jì)算法，它現(xiàn)在正是在第四百個(gè)年頭之中。它是森林里一株最大和最好的樹。它的頂高高地伸在所有的樹上，人們?cè)诤Ｉ暇涂梢赃h(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地看到它，因此它成了船只的一個(gè)地形標(biāo)記。它一點(diǎn)也不知道，該是有多少眼睛在尋找它。斑鳩在它綠色的頂上高高地建起窩來，杜鵑坐在它的枝丫里唱著歌。在秋天，在樹葉看起來像薄薄的鋼片的時(shí)候，候鳥就飛來，在它們沒有到大海的彼岸去以前，停在這兒休息一下。不過現(xiàn)在是冬天了，誰也可以看得出來，這樹沒有剩下一片葉子;它的枝丫長(zhǎng)得多么彎，多么曲啊，烏鴉和白嘴鴉輪流地到它的枝丫里來，在那里休息，談?wù)撝强煲_始的嚴(yán)寒的季節(jié)，談?wù)撝诙煺沂澄锸嵌嗝蠢щy。
這正是神圣的圣誕節(jié)的時(shí)候;這樹做了一個(gè)最美麗的夢(mèng)。
這樹明顯地感覺到，這是一個(gè)歡樂的季節(jié)。它覺得它聽到周圍所有教堂的鐘都敲起來了。然而天氣仍然是像一個(gè)美麗的夏天，既柔和，又溫暖。它展開它莊嚴(yán)的、新鮮的、綠色的簇頂;太陽光在枝葉之間戲弄著;空氣充滿了草和灌木的.香氣;五顏六色的蝴蝶在互相追逐。蜉蝣跳著舞，好像一切都是為了他們的跳舞和歡樂而存在似的。這樹多年來所經(jīng)歷過的東西，以及在它周圍所發(fā)生過的東酉，像節(jié)日的行列一樣，在它面前游行過去。它看到古代的騎士和貴婦人——他們的帽子上插著長(zhǎng)羽毛，手腕上托著獵鷹，騎著馬走過樹林。狩獵的號(hào)角吹起來了，獵犬叫起來了。它看到敵對(duì)的武士，穿著各種顏色的服裝，拿著發(fā)亮的武器矛和戟，架起帳篷，收起帳篷。篝火燃起來了;人民在它展開的枝丫下面唱歌和睡覺。它看到一對(duì)一對(duì)的戀人在月光中幸福地相會(huì)，把他們名字的第一個(gè)字母刻在它灰綠色的樹皮上。有個(gè)時(shí)候——自此以后多少年過去了——快樂的游蕩者把七弦琴和風(fēng)奏琴①掛在它的枝子上，現(xiàn)在它們又在那上面掛起來了，又發(fā)出非常動(dòng)聽的音調(diào)。斑鳩在喁喁私語，好像是在講這樹對(duì)這一切事物的觀感;杜鵑在唱它還能活多少個(gè)夏天。
這時(shí)它覺得仿佛有一種新的生命力在向它最遠(yuǎn)的細(xì)根流去，然后又向它最高的枝子升上來，一直升到它葉子的尖上。這樹兒覺得它在伸展和擴(kuò)大;通過它的根，它感到連土里都有了生命和溫暖。它覺得它的氣力在增長(zhǎng)。它長(zhǎng)得更豐滿，更寬大。它越長(zhǎng)越高。它的軀干在上升，沒有一刻停止。它在不斷地生長(zhǎng)。它的簇頂長(zhǎng)得更豐滿，更寬大，更高。它越長(zhǎng)得高，它的快樂就越增大;于是它就更有一種愉快的渴望�？释L(zhǎng)得更高——長(zhǎng)到跟明朗和溫暖的太陽一樣高。
它已經(jīng)長(zhǎng)到超出云層之上了。云塊在它的簇頂下浮過去，像密密成群的候鳥，或者像在它下面飛過去的白色的大天鵝。
這樹的每片葉子都能看到東西，好像它有眼睛一樣。它在白天可以看見星星——那么巨大，那么光耀。每顆星星像一對(duì)眼睛——那么溫柔，那么晶瑩。這使得它記起那些熟識(shí)的親切的眼睛，孩子的眼睛，在它的枝下幽會(huì)的戀人的眼睛。
這是一個(gè)幸福的片刻——一個(gè)充滿了快樂的片刻!然而在這幸福之中，它感到一種渴望;它希望看到樹林里一切生長(zhǎng)在它下面的樹、一切灌木叢、草兒和花兒，也能跟它一起長(zhǎng)高，也能欣賞這種快樂和美景。這株巨大的櫟樹在它美麗的夢(mèng)中并不感到太幸福，因?yàn)樗鼪]有使它周圍大大小小的植物分享這種幸福。這種感覺在它的每個(gè)小枝里，每片葉子里，激動(dòng)著，好像在人類的心里一樣。
這樹的簇頂前后搖動(dòng)著，好像它在尋找一件什么東西而沒有找到。它朝下面望。于是它嗅到車葉草的香氣;不一會(huì)兒，它聞到金銀花和紫羅蘭的更強(qiáng)烈的香味。它相信它聽到杜鵑在對(duì)自己講話。
是的，樹林的一片綠頂透過了整個(gè)的云層;櫟樹看到它上面其余的樹也在生長(zhǎng)，像自己一樣在向上伸展。灌木和草兒也長(zhǎng)得很高，有些甚至把自己的根都拔起來，為的是想飛快地上長(zhǎng)。樺樹長(zhǎng)得最快。它細(xì)嫩的軀干，像一條白色的閃電似地在向上伸;它的枝子搖動(dòng)起來像綠色的細(xì)紗和旗子。樹林中的一切植物，甚至長(zhǎng)著棕毛的燈心草，也跟著別的植物一起在向上長(zhǎng)。鳥兒跟著它們一起向上飛，唱著歌。一根草葉也在飛快地生長(zhǎng)，像飄著的一條緞帶。一只蚱蜢坐在它上面，用腿子擦著翅膀。小金蟲在嗡嗡地唱著歌，蜜蜂在低吟著。每只鳥兒都用自己的嘴唱著歌。處處是一片直沖云霄的歌聲和快樂聲。
“可是水邊的那朵小藍(lán)花在什么地方呢?它應(yīng)該和大家一起也在這兒。”櫟樹說，“那紫色的鐘形花和那小雛菊在什么地方呢?”是的，老櫟樹希望這些東西都在它的周圍。
“我們都在這兒呀!我們都在這兒呀!”這是一片歌唱的聲音。
“不過去年夏天的那棵美麗的車葉草——而且去年這兒還有一棵鈴蘭花!還有那野蘋果樹，它是多么美麗!還有那年年都出現(xiàn)的樹林勝景——如果這還存在，到現(xiàn)在還存在的話，那么也請(qǐng)它來和我們?cè)谝黄鸢?”
“我們都在這兒呀!我們都在這兒呀!”更高的空中發(fā)出這么一個(gè)合唱聲。這聲音似乎早就在那兒。
“唔，這真是說不出的可愛!”老櫟樹高聲說。“他們大大小小都在我的周圍!誰也沒有被忘記掉!人們?cè)趺茨芟胂蟮玫竭@么多的幸福呢?這怎么可能呢?”
“在天上這是可能的，也可以想象得到的!”高空中的聲音說。
這株不停地生長(zhǎng)著的櫟樹覺得它的根從地上拔出來了。
“這是再好不過了!”這樹說�！艾F(xiàn)在再?zèng)]有什么東西可以牽制住我了!我現(xiàn)在可以飛了，可以在燦爛的陽光中向最高的地方飛了!而且一切大大小小的心愛的東西都和我在一起!大家都和我在一起!”
這是老櫟樹做的一個(gè)夢(mèng)。當(dāng)它正在做這夢(mèng)的時(shí)候，一陣狂暴的風(fēng)雨，在這個(gè)神圣的圣誕節(jié)之夜，從海上和陸地上吹來了。海向岸上卷起一股巨大的浪潮，這樹在崩裂——當(dāng)它正在夢(mèng)著它的根從土里解放出來的時(shí)候，它的根真的從地上拔出來了。它倒下來了。它的三百六十五歲現(xiàn)在跟蜉蝣的一日沒有兩樣。
在圣誕節(jié)的早晨，太陽一出來，暴風(fēng)雨就停了。所有的教堂都發(fā)出節(jié)日的鐘聲。從每一個(gè)煙囪里，甚至從最小茅屋頂上的煙囪里升起了藍(lán)色的煙，像古代德魯伊②僧侶的祭壇上在感恩節(jié)升起的煙一樣。海漸漸地平靜了。海面停著的一條大船上——它昨夜曾經(jīng)戰(zhàn)勝了暴風(fēng)雨——懸起了各色的旗幟慶祝這個(gè)美麗的節(jié)日。
“這樹已經(jīng)倒下來了——這株很老的、作為地形的指標(biāo)的櫟樹!”水手們說�！八谧蛞沟谋╋L(fēng)雨中倒下來了!誰能再把它栽上呢?誰也不能!”
這是人們對(duì)于這櫟樹所作的悼辭。話雖然很短，但是用意很好。這樹在蓋滿了積雪的海岸上躺著;從船上飄來的圣詩的歌聲在它的軀體上盤旋著。這是圣誕節(jié)的愉快的頌歌，基督用血把人類的靈魂贖出來的頌歌，永恒的生命的頌歌。
唱喲，高聲唱喲，上帝的子民!
阿利路亞，大家齊聲歡慶，
啊，處處是無邊的歡樂!
阿利路亞!阿利路亞!
這是一首古老圣詩的調(diào)子。在這歌聲和祈禱中，船上的每個(gè)人都感到一種特有的超升的感覺。正如那株老樹在它最后的、最美的。圣誕節(jié)晚上的夢(mèng)中所感到的那種超升的感覺一樣。
�、龠@是一種放在風(fēng)中就自動(dòng)發(fā)出音調(diào)的古琴。
�、诘卖斠�(Druids)是古代高盧人(Gaul)和不列顛人(Briton)享有特權(quán)的一種祭司階層。
老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話英文版：
The Last Dream of the Old Oak
IN the forest, high up on the steep shore, and not far from the open seacoast, stood a very old oak-tree. It was just three hundred and sixty-five years old, but that long time was to the tree as the same number of days might be to us; we wake by day and sleep by night, and then we have our dreams. It is different with the tree; it is obliged to keep awake through three seasons of the year, and does not get any sleep till winter comes. Winter is its time for rest; its night after the long day of spring, summer, and autumn. On many a warm summer, the Ephemera, the flies that exist for only a day, had fluttered about the old oak, enjoyed life and felt happy and if, for a moment, one of the tiny creatures rested on one of his large fresh leaves, the tree would always say, “Poor little creature! your whole life consists only of a single day. How very short. It must be quite melancholy.”
“Melancholy! what do you mean?” the little creature would always reply. “Everything around me is so wonderfully bright and warm, and beautiful, that it makes me joyous.”
“But only for one day, and then it is all over.”
“Over!” repeated the fly; “what is the meaning of all over? Are you all over too?”
“No; I shall very likely live for thousands of your days, and my day is whole seasons long; indeed it is so long that you could never reckon it out.”
“No? then I don’t understand you. You may have thousands of my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be merry and happy. Does all the beauty of the world cease when you die?”
“No,” replied the tree; “it will certainly last much longer,— infinitely longer than I can even think of.” “Well, then,” said the little fly, “we have the same time to live; only we reckon differently.” And the little creature danced and floated in the air, rejoicing in her delicate wings of gauze and velvet, rejoicing in the balmy breezes, laden with the fragrance of clover-fields and wild roses, elder-blossoms and honeysuckle, from the garden hedges, wild thyme, primroses, and mint, and the scent of all these was so strong that the perfume almost intoxicated the little fly. The long and beautiful day had been so full of joy and sweet delights, that when the sun sank low it felt tired of all its happiness and enjoyment. Its wings could sustain it no longer, and gently and slowly it glided down upon the soft waving blades of grass, nodded its little head as well as it could nod, and slept peacefully and sweetly. The fly was dead.
“Poor little Ephemera!” said the oak; “what a terribly short life!” And so, on every summer day the dance was repeated, the same questions asked, and the same answers given. The same thing was continued through many generations of Ephemera; all of them felt equally merry and equally happy.
The oak remained awake through the morning of spring, the noon of summer, and the evening of autumn; its time of rest, its night drew nigh—winter was coming. Already the storms were singing, “Good-night, good-night.” Here fell a leaf and there fell a leaf. “We will rock you and lull you. Go to sleep, go to sleep. We will sing you to sleep, and shake you to sleep, and it will do your old twigs good; they will even crackle with pleasure. Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly, it is your three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth night. Correctly speaking, you are but a youngster in the world. Sleep sweetly, the clouds will drop snow upon you, which will be quite a cover-lid, warm and sheltering to your feet. Sweet sleep to you, and pleasant dreams.” And there stood the oak, stripped of all its leaves, left to rest during the whole of a long winter, and to dream many dreams of events that had happened in its life, as in the dreams of men. The great tree had once been small; indeed, in its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human computation, it was now in the fourth century of its existence. It was the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit towered above all the other trees, and could be seen far out at sea, so that it served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no idea how many eyes looked eagerly for it. In its topmost branches the wood-pigeon built her nest, and the cuckoo carried out his usual vocal performances, and his well-known notes echoed amid the boughs; and in autumn, when the leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage would come and rest upon the branches before taking their flight across the sea. But now it was winter, the tree stood leafless, so that every one could see how crooked and bent were the branches that sprang forth from the trunk. Crows and rooks came by turns and sat on them, and talked of the hard times which were beginning, and how difficult it was in winter to obtain food.
It was just about holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a dream. The tree had, doubtless, a kind of feeling that the festive time had arrived, and in his dream fancied he heard the bells ringing from all the churches round, and yet it seemed to him to be a beautiful summer’s day, mild and warm. His mighty summits was crowned with spreading fresh green foliage; the sunbeams played among the leaves and branches, and the air was full of fragrance from herb and blossom; painted butterflies chased each other; the summer flies danced around him, as if the world had been created merely for them to dance and be merry in. All that had happened to the tree during every year of his life seemed to pass before him, as in a festive procession. He saw the knights of olden times and noble ladies ride by through the wood on their gallant steeds, with plumes waving in their hats, and falcons on their wrists. The hunting horn sounded, and the dogs barked. He saw hostile warriors, in colored dresses and glittering armor, with spear and halberd, pitching their tents, and anon striking them. The watchfires again blazed, and men sang and slept under the hospitable shelter of the tree. He saw lovers meet in quiet happiness near him in the moonshine, and carve the initials of their names in the grayish-green bark on his trunk. Once, but long years had intervened since then, guitars and Eolian harps had been hung on his boughs by merry travellers; now they seemed to hang there again, and he could hear their marvellous tones. The wood-pigeons cooed as if to explain the feelings of the tree, and the cuckoo called out to tell him how many summer days he had yet to live. Then it seemed as if new life was thrilling through every fibre of root and stem and leaf, rising even to the highest branches. The tree felt itself stretching and spreading out, while through the root beneath the earth ran the warm vigor of life. As he grew higher and still higher, with increased strength, his topmost boughs became broader and fuller; and in proportion to his growth, so was his self-satisfaction increased, and with it arose a joyous longing to grow higher and higher, to reach even to the warm, bright sun itself. Already had his topmost branches pierced the clouds, which floated beneath them like troops of birds of passage, or large white swans; every leaf seemed gifted with sight, as if it possessed eyes to see. The stars became visible in broad daylight, large and sparkling, like clear and gentle eyes. They recalled to the memory the well-known look in the eyes of a child, or in the eyes of lovers who had once met beneath the branches of the old oak. These were wonderful and happy moments for the old tree, full of peace and joy; and yet, amidst all this happiness, the tree felt a yearning, longing desire that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and flowers beneath him, might be able also to rise higher, as he had done, and to see all this splendor, and experience the same happiness. The grand, majestic oak could not be quite happy in the midst of his enjoyment, while all the rest, both great and small, were not with him. And this feeling of yearning trembled through every branch, through every leaf, as warmly and fervently as if they had been the fibres of a human heart. The summit of the tree waved to and fro, and bent downwards as if in his silent longing he sought for something. Then there came to him the fragrance of thyme, followed by the more powerful scent of honeysuckle and violets; and he fancied he heard the note of the cuckoo. At length his longing was satisfied. Up through the clouds came the green summits of the forest trees, and beneath him, the oak saw them rising, and growing higher and higher. Bush and herb shot upward, and some even tore themselves up by the roots to rise more quickly. The birch-tree was the quickest of all. Like a lightning flash the slender stem shot upwards in a zigzag line, the branches spreading around it like green gauze and banners. Every native of the wood, even to the brown and feathery rushes, grew with the rest, while the birds ascended with the melody of song. On a blade of grass, that fluttered in the air like a long, green ribbon, sat a grasshopper, cleaning his wings with his legs. May beetles hummed, the bees murmured, the birds sang, each in his own way; the air was filled with the sounds of song and gladness.
“But where is the little blue flower that grows by the water?” asked the oak, “and the purple bell-flower, and the daisy?” You see the oak wanted to have them all with him.
“Here we are, we are here,” sounded in voice and song.
“But the beautiful thyme of last summer, where is that? and the lilies-of-the-valley, which last year covered the earth with their bloom? and the wild apple-tree with its lovely blossoms, and all the glory of the wood, which has flourished year after year? even what may have but now sprouted forth could be with us here.”
“We are here, we are here,” sounded voices higher in the air, as if they had flown there beforehand.
“Why this is beautiful, too beautiful to be believed,” said the oak in a joyful tone. “I have them all here, both great and small; not one has been forgotten. Can such happiness be imagined?” It seemed almost impossible.
“In heaven with the Eternal God, it can be imagined, and it is possible,” sounded the reply through the air.
And the old tree, as it still grew upwards and onwards, felt that his roots were loosening themselves from the earth.
“It is right so, it is best,” said the tree, “no fetters hold me now. I can fly up to the very highest point in light and glory. And all I love are with me, both small and great. All—all are here.”
Such was the dream of the old oak: and while he dreamed, a mighty storm came rushing over land and sea, at the holy Christmas time. The sea rolled in great billows towards the shore. There was a cracking and crushing heard in the tree. The root was torn from the ground just at the moment when in his dream he fancied it was being loosened from the earth. He fell—his three hundred and sixty-five years were passed as the single day of the Ephemera. On the morning of Christmas-day, when the sun rose, the storm had ceased. From all the churches sounded the festive bells, and from every hearth, even of the smallest hut, rose the smoke into the blue sky, like the smoke from the festive thank-offerings on the Druids’ altars. The sea gradually became calm, and on board a great ship that had withstood the tempest during the night, all the flags were displayed, as a token of joy and festivity. “The tree is down! The old oak,—our landmark on the coast!” exclaimed the sailors. “It must have fallen in the storm of last night. Who can replace it? Alas! no one.” This was a funeral oration over the old tree; short, but well-meant. There it lay stretched on the snow-covered shore, and over it sounded the notes of a song from the ship—a song of Christmas joy, and of the redemption of the soul of man, and of eternal life through Christ’s atoning blood.
“Sing aloud on the happy morn,
All is fulfilled, for Christ is born;
With songs of joy let us loudly sing,
‘Hallelujahs to Christ our King.’”
Thus sounded the old Christmas carol, and every one on board the ship felt his thoughts elevated, through the song and the prayer, even as the old tree had felt lifted up in its last, its beautiful dream on that Christmas morn.
安徒生童話故事第：老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話中英文版本 2
Once upon a Christmas Eve, an old oak tree stood alone in a meadow, watching the world go by. As the sun set and the stars began to twinkle, the tree closed its eyes and dreamed of a different life.
In its dream, the oak tree saw itself as a beautiful Christmas tree, adorned with lights and ornaments. Children of all ages gathered around it, singing carols and celebrating the holiday season. The tree felt the warmth of their smiles and the joy in their hearts, and it knew that this was where it belonged.
As the dream continued, the oak tree saw itself becoming a playground for children. They climbed its branches, hid among its leaves, and made forts in its trunk. It provided them with endless hours of fun and entertainment, watching them grow up and become responsible adults.
Finally, in its dream, the oak tree saw itself becoming an old man, with deep roots and a gnarled trunk. It had witnessed many Christmases and seen the world change around it. But even in its old age, it still had a role to play. It became a place for young families to gather, a symbol of stability and strength in a rapidly changing world.
When the oak tree awoke from its dream, it realized that every life has a purpose, whether its a Christmas tree, a playground, or an old man with deep roots. It knew that even though it was just an ordinary oak tree, it had a special role to play in the lives of others.
And so, on that Christmas Eve, the old oak tree stood tall and proud, knowing that it was more than just a tree. It was a dream come true, a symbol of Christmas joy and hope. And as people passed by, they smiled at the old tree and thanked it for its beauty and for its role in their lives.
從前的圣誕節(jié)前夕，一棵老橡樹孤零零地站在草地上，看著世界的流逝。當(dāng)太陽落山，星星開始閃爍時(shí)，這棵樹閉上眼睛，夢(mèng)想著不同的生活。 在夢(mèng)中，橡樹把自己視為一棵美麗的圣誕樹，裝飾著燈光和裝飾品。各個(gè)年齡段的孩子們聚集在它周圍，唱著頌歌，慶祝節(jié)日。這棵樹感受到了他們微笑的溫暖和心中的.喜悅，它知道這就是它的歸屬。
隨著夢(mèng)想的繼續(xù)，橡樹看到自己變成了孩子們的游樂場(chǎng)。他們爬上它的樹枝，躲在它的葉子中間，在它的樹干上建造堡壘。它為他們提供了無盡的樂趣和娛樂，看著他們長(zhǎng)大，成為負(fù)責(zé)任的成年人。
最后，在夢(mèng)中，橡樹看到自己變成了一個(gè)老人，有著深深的根和多節(jié)的樹干。它見證了許多圣誕節(jié)，見證了周圍世界的變化。但即使在它年老的時(shí)候，它仍然可以發(fā)揮作用。它成為年輕家庭聚會(huì)的地方，是快速變化的世界中穩(wěn)定和力量的象征。
當(dāng)橡樹從夢(mèng)中醒來時(shí)，它意識(shí)到每個(gè)生命都有一個(gè)目標(biāo)，無論是圣誕樹、游樂場(chǎng)還是有著深厚根的老人。它知道，盡管它只是一棵普通的橡樹，但它在其他人的生活中扮演著特殊的角色。
于是，在那個(gè)圣誕夜，這棵老橡樹高大而驕傲地站著，知道它不僅僅是一棵樹。這是一個(gè)夢(mèng)想成真，象征著圣誕節(jié)的歡樂和希望。當(dāng)人們經(jīng)過時(shí)，他們對(duì)這棵老樹微笑，感謝它的美麗和它在他們生活中的作用。
【安徒生童話故事第：老櫟樹的夢(mèng)—個(gè)圣誕節(jié)的童話中英文版本】相關(guān)文章：
安徒生童話故事第147篇：最難使人相信的事情中英文版本06-03
格林童話故事第29篇：魔鬼的三根金發(fā)中英文版本06-04
安徒生童話故事第108篇：雪人The Snow Man11-22
安徒生童話故事第111篇：冰姑娘The Ice Maiden12-05