安徒生童話故事第127篇：《藏著并不等于遺忘》中英文版本
引導(dǎo)語(yǔ)：人在一生中可以在無(wú)意中做過(guò)一些好事或者經(jīng)歷過(guò)某些重大感情的起伏。這些情況有的為人所知，有的完全被忘掉，有的只是隱藏在個(gè)人心的深處。下面就是小編整理的《藏著并不等于遺忘》安徒生童話故事中英文版本的，歡迎大家閱讀!
從前有一座古老的房子;它的四周環(huán)繞著一條泥濘的壕溝，溝上有一座吊橋，這座橋吊著的時(shí)候比放下的時(shí)候多，因?yàn)槠綍r(shí)來(lái)訪的客人并沒(méi)有多少算得上是貴客。屋檐下有許多專為開(kāi)槍用的槍眼——如果敵人走得很近的話，也可以從這些槍眼里把開(kāi)水或白熱的鉛淋到他們頭上去。屋子里的梁都很高;這是很好的，因?yàn)闋t子里燒著粗大而潮濕的木頭，這樣就可以使?fàn)t子里的煙有地方可去。墻上掛著的是一些穿著鎧甲的男人的畫(huà)像，以及莊嚴(yán)的、穿著一大堆衣服的太太們的畫(huà)像。不過(guò)他們之中最尊貴的一位仍然住在這里。她叫做美特·莫根斯。她是這個(gè)公館里的女主人。
有一天晚上來(lái)了一群強(qiáng)盜。他們打死了她家里的三個(gè)人，還加上一條看家狗。接著他們就用拴狗的鏈子把美特太太套在狗屋上;他們自己則在客廳里坐下來(lái)，喝著從她的酒窖里取出來(lái)的酒——都是非常好的.麥芽酒。
美特太太被狗鏈子套著，但是她卻不能做出狗吠聲來(lái)。
強(qiáng)盜的小廝走到她身邊來(lái)。他是在偷偷地走，因?yàn)樗麤Q不能讓別人看見(jiàn)，否則別人就會(huì)把他打死。
“美特·莫根斯太太!”小廝說(shuō)，“你記不記得，你的丈夫活著的時(shí)候，我的父親得騎上木馬①?那時(shí)你替他求情，但是沒(méi)有結(jié)果。他只好騎，一直騎到他變成殘廢。但是你偷偷地走過(guò)來(lái)，像我現(xiàn)在一樣;你親手在他的腳下墊兩塊石頭，使他能夠得到休息。誰(shuí)也沒(méi)有看見(jiàn)這件事情，或者人們看見(jiàn)了也裝做沒(méi)看見(jiàn)。你那時(shí)是一個(gè)年輕的仁慈的太太。這件事情是我的父親告訴我的。我沒(méi)有對(duì)任何人說(shuō)過(guò)，但是我并沒(méi)有忘記!美特·莫根斯太太，現(xiàn)在我要釋放你!”
他們兩人從馬廄里牽出馬來(lái)，在風(fēng)雨中騎走了，并且得到了人們善意的幫助。
“我為那個(gè)老人幫的一點(diǎn)小忙，現(xiàn)在所得到的報(bào)酬倒是不少!”美特·莫根斯說(shuō)。
“不說(shuō)并不等于忘記!”小廝說(shuō)。
強(qiáng)盜們后來(lái)都得到了絞刑的處罰。
另外還有一幢老房子;它現(xiàn)在仍然存在。它不是屬于美特·莫根斯太太的，而是屬于另外一個(gè)貴族家庭。
事情發(fā)生在我們的這個(gè)時(shí)代里。太陽(yáng)照著塔上的金頂，長(zhǎng)滿了樹(shù)的小島浮在水上像一些花束，野天鵝在這些島的周圍
游來(lái)游去�；▓@里長(zhǎng)著許多玫瑰。屋子的女主人本身就是一朵最美麗的玫瑰，它在快樂(lè)中——在與人為善的快樂(lè)中——射出光輝。她所做的好事并不表現(xiàn)在世人的眼中，而是藏在人的心里——藏著并不等于忘記。
她現(xiàn)在從這屋子走到田野上一個(gè)孤獨(dú)的小茅棚子里去。茅棚里住著一個(gè)窮困的、癱瘓的女子。小房間里的窗子是向北開(kāi)的，太陽(yáng)光照不進(jìn)來(lái)。她只能看見(jiàn)被一道很高的溝沿隔斷的一小片田野�？墒墙裉煊刑�(yáng)光射進(jìn)來(lái)。她的房間里有上帝的溫暖的、快樂(lè)的陽(yáng)光射進(jìn)來(lái)。陽(yáng)光是從南邊的窗子射進(jìn)來(lái)的，而南邊起初有一堵墻。
這個(gè)癱瘓病患者坐在溫暖的太陽(yáng)光里，望著樹(shù)林和海岸。世界現(xiàn)在變得這樣廣闊和美麗，而這只須那幢房子里的好太太說(shuō)一句話就可以辦得到。
“說(shuō)那一句話是多么容易，幫那一點(diǎn)忙是多么輕松!”她說(shuō)，“可是我所得到的快樂(lè)是無(wú)邊的偉大和幸福!”
正因?yàn)槿绱�，她才做了那么多的好事，關(guān)心窮人屋子里和富人屋子里的一切人們——因?yàn)楦蝗说奈葑永镆灿型纯嗟娜�。她的善行沒(méi)有人看見(jiàn)，是隱藏著的，但是上帝并沒(méi)有忘記。
還有一幢老房子;它是坐落在一個(gè)熱鬧的大城市里。這幢房子里有房間和客廳，不過(guò)我們卻不必進(jìn)去;我們只須去看看廚房就得了。它里面是既溫暖而又明朗，既干凈而又整齊。銅器皿閃著光，桌子很亮，洗碗槽像剛剛擦過(guò)的案板一樣干凈。這一切是一個(gè)什么都干的女傭人做的，但是她還騰出時(shí)間把自己打扮一番，好像她是要到教堂里去做禮拜似的。她的帽子上有一個(gè)蝴蝶結(jié)——一個(gè)黑蝴蝶結(jié)。這說(shuō)明她在服喪。但是她并沒(méi)有要哀悼的人，因?yàn)樗葲](méi)有父親，也沒(méi)有母親;既沒(méi)有親戚，也沒(méi)有戀人;她是一個(gè)貧寒的女子。她只有一次跟一個(gè)窮苦的年輕人訂過(guò)婚。他們彼此相親相愛(ài)。有一次他來(lái)看她。
“我們兩人什么也沒(méi)有!”他說(shuō)。“對(duì)面的那個(gè)寡婦對(duì)我說(shuō)過(guò)熱情的話語(yǔ)。她將使我富有，但是我心里只有你。你覺(jué)得我怎么辦好!”
“你覺(jué)得怎樣能使你幸福就怎樣辦吧!”女子說(shuō)。“請(qǐng)你對(duì)她和善些，親愛(ài)些;不過(guò)請(qǐng)你記住，從我們分手的這個(gè)時(shí)刻起，我們兩個(gè)人就不能再常常見(jiàn)面了!”
好幾年過(guò)去了。她在街上遇見(jiàn)了她從前的朋友和戀人。他顯出一副又病又愁苦的樣子。她的心中很難過(guò)，忍不住要問(wèn)一聲：“你近來(lái)怎么樣?”
“各方面都好!”他說(shuō)。“我的妻子是一個(gè)正直和善良的人，但是我的心中只想著你。我跟自己作過(guò)斗爭(zhēng)，這斗爭(zhēng)現(xiàn)在快要結(jié)束了。我們只有在上帝面前再見(jiàn)了。”
一個(gè)星期過(guò)去了。這天早晨報(bào)紙上有一個(gè)消息，說(shuō)他已經(jīng)死了;因此她現(xiàn)在服喪。她的戀人死了;報(bào)上說(shuō)他留下一個(gè)妻子和前夫的三個(gè)孩子。銅鐘發(fā)出的聲音很嘈雜，但是銅的質(zhì)地是純凈的。
她的黑蝴蝶結(jié)表示哀悼的意思，但是這個(gè)女子的面孔顯得更悲哀。這悲哀藏在心里，但永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)遺忘。
嗨，現(xiàn)在有三個(gè)故事了——一根梗子上的三片花瓣。你還希望有更多這樣的苜蓿花瓣嗎?在心的書(shū)上有的是：它們被藏著，但并沒(méi)有被遺忘。
�、衮T木馬(Traehest)是古時(shí)的一種刑罰。犯人被綁在一個(gè)木凳子上，腳不落地，非常痛苦。
《藏著并不等于遺忘》英文版：
“Delaying Is Not Forgetting”
THERE was an old mansion surrounded by a marshy ditch with a drawbridge which was but seldom let down:—not all guests are good people. Under the roof were loopholes to shoot through, and to pour down boiling water or even molten lead on the enemy, should he approach. Inside the house the rooms were very high and had ceilings of beams, and that was very useful considering the great deal of smoke which rose up from the chimney fire where the large, damp logs of wood smouldered. On the walls hung pictures of knights in armour and proud ladies in gorgeous dresses; the most stately of all walked about alive. She was called Meta Mogen; she was the mistress of the house, to her belonged the castle.
Towards the evening robbers came; they killed three of her people and also the yard-dog, and attached Mrs. Meta to the kennel by the chain, while they themselves made good cheer in the hall and drank the wine and the good ale out of her cellar. Mrs. Meta was now on the chain, she could not even bark.
But lo! the servant of one of the robbers secretly approached her; they must not see it, otherwise they would have killed him.
“Mrs. Meta Mogen,” said the fellow, “do you still remember how my father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on the wooden horse? You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to ride until his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as I steal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of his feet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretended not to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. My father has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I will free you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!”
Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rain and wind to obtain the assistance of friends.
“Thus the small service done to the old man was richly rewarded!” said Meta Mogen.
“Delaying is not forgetting,” said the fellow.
The robbers were hanged.
There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belong to Mrs. Meta Mogen, it belonged to another old noble family.
We are now in the present time. The sun is shining on the gilt knob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on the water, and wild swans are swimming round them. In the garden grow roses; the mistress of the house is herself the finest rose petal, she beams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wide world, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting!
Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in the field. Therein lives a poor paralysed girl; the window of her little room looks northward, the sun does not enter here. The girl can only see a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. But to-day the sun shines here—the warm, beautiful sun of God is within the little room; it comes from the south through the new window, where formerly the wall was.
The paralysed girl sits in the warm sunshine and can see the wood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, and only through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion.
“The word was so easy, the deed so small,” she said, “the joy it afforded me was infinitely great and sweet!”
And therefore she does many a good deed, thinks of all in the humble cottages and in the rich mansions, where there are also afflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forget it. Delayed is not forgotten!
An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busy traffic. There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, we remain in the kitchen, where it is warm and light, clean and tidy; the copper utensils are shining, the table as if polished with beeswax; the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a single servant has done, and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to go to church; she wears a bow on her cap, a black bow, that signifies mourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother, neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day she was engaged to a poor fellow; they loved each other dearly.
One day he came to her and said:
“We both have nothing! The rich widow over the way in the basement has made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in my heart; what do you advise me to do?”
“I advise you to do what you think will turn out to your happiness,” said the girl. “Be kind and good to her, but remember this; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again.”
Years passed; then one day she met the old friend and sweetheart in the street; he looked ill and miserable, and she could not help asking him, “How are you?”
“Rich and prospering in every respect,” he said; “the woman is brave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle, it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now until we meet before God!”
A week has passed; this morning his death was in the newspaper, that is the reason of the girl’s mourning! Her old sweetheart is dead and has left a wife and three step-children, as the paper says; it sounds as if there is a crack, but the metal is pure.
The black bow signifies mourning, the girl’s face points to the same in a still higher degree; it is preserved in the heart and will never be forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting!
These are three stories you see, three leaves on the same stalk. Do you wish for some more trefoil leaves? In the little heartbook are many more of them. Delaying is not forgetting!
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