安徒生童话英文版一个故事 短一些

Answer 1

Teapot

Once upon a time, there was a proud
teapot. It was proud of its porcelain, its long mouth and its big
handle. There's something in front and behind it!

There's a spout in
front and a handle behind. It's always talking about these things.

But
it doesn't talk about its cover.  The lid was broken long ago and nailed
later;

so it has a shortcoming,  and people don't like to talk about
their own shortcomings - of course,  other people talk about it.

Cups,
butter cans and sugar bowls - the whole set of tea utensils - all
remember the weaknesses of the teapot lid.

It's more time to talk about
it than about the perfect handle and the beautiful spout. The teapot
knows this.

"I know them!" It said to itself, "I also know my
shortcomings, and I admit them. This is enough to show my modesty and
simplicity.

We all have shortcomings; but we also have advantages.

The
cup has a handle and the sugar bowl has a lid. I have both, and there's
one thing they don't have. I have a spout; it makes me queen on the tea
table.

Sugar bowls and butter cans were appointed as sweet servants, and
I was the appointee, the master of all.

I spread happiness among
thirsty people. Inside my body, Chinese tea leaves emit fragrance in
that tasteless boiling water.

This is what the teapot said in its
fearless youth. It stood on the tea table with a table cloth, and a very
white hand uncovered its lid.

But this very white and tender hand is
very clumsy.

The teapot fell  down, the spout of the teapot broke, the
handle broke, and the lid of  the teapot need not be talked about any
more, because much has been said  about him.

The teapot lay unconscious
on the ground; the boiling water flowed all over the place. It was a
serious blow to it, and the worst thing was that everyone laughed at it.

People just laughed at it, not at the clumsy hand.

"I will never
forget this experience!" The teapot later inspected his lifelong career.
"People call me a sick man and put me in a corner, and one day they
give me to a woman who begs for leftovers.

I've fallen into poverty; I
don't say a word inside or outside. But just then, my life began to
improve. It's a blessing in disguise. I've got earth in my body;

for a
teapot, it's totally equivalent to burial. But a flower root was buried
in the soil.

I don't know who put it in or who brought it.  However,
since it was put in, it compensated for the loss of Chinese  tea and
boiled water, and also as a reward for the interruption of the  handle
and spout.

The roots of flowers lie in the earth, in my body, and become
my heart, a living heart - something I have never had before.

I now
have life, strength and spirit. The pulse jumped up, the roots sprouted,
and they had thoughts and feelings.

It blossoms into flowers. I see it,
I support it, I forget myself in its beauty. Forget yourself for others
- it's a happy thing! It did not thank me; it did not think of me;

it
was admired and praised by people. I'm very happy; it must be so happy,
too.

One day I heard someone say that it should have a better pot to
match it. So people beat me around the waist; I was really in pain at
that time! But the flowers moved into a better pot.

As for me? I
was thrown into the yard. I lay there like a pile of fragments - but my
memory is still there and I can't forget it.

After a series of
good deeds, the teapot was thrown into the yard. I lay there like a pile
of fragments - but my memory is still there and I can't forget it. But
what's the use of this "solitary admiration"?

中文版：

茶壶

从前有一个骄傲的茶壶，它对它的瓷感到骄傲，对它的长嘴感到骄傲，对它的那个大把手也感到骄傲。它的前面和后边都有点什么东西！前面是一个壶嘴，后面是一个把手，它老是谈着这些东西。可是它不谈它的盖子。

原来盖子早就打碎了，是后来钉好的；所以它算是有一个缺点，而人们是不喜欢谈自己的缺点的——当然别的人会谈的。

杯子、奶油罐和糖钵——这整套吃茶的用具——都把茶壶盖的弱点记得清清楚楚。谈它的时候比谈那个完好的把手和漂亮的壶嘴的时候多。茶壶知道这一点。

我知道它们！它自己在心里说，“我也知道我的缺点，而且我也承认。这足以表现我的谦虚，我的朴素。我们大家都有缺点；

但是我们也有优点。杯子有一个把手，糖钵有一个盖子。我两样都有，而且还有他们所没有的一件东西。

我有一个壶嘴；这使我成为茶桌上的皇后。糖钵和奶油罐受到任命，成为甜味的仆人，而我就是任命者——大家的主宰。我把幸福分散给那些干渴的人群。在我的身体里面，中国的茶叶在那毫无味道的开水中放出香气。”

这番话是茶壶在它大无畏的青年时代说的。它立在铺好台布的茶桌上，一只非常白嫩的手揭开它的盖子。

不过这只非常白嫩的手是很笨的，茶壶落下去了，壶嘴跌断了，把手断裂了，那个壶盖也不必再谈，因为关于他的话已经讲得不少了。

茶壶躺在地上昏过去了；开水淌得一地。这对它说来是一个严重的打击，而最糟糕的是大家都笑它。大家只是笑它，而不笑那只笨拙的手。

这次经历我永远忘记不了！茶壶后来检查自己一生的事业时说。“人们把我叫做一个病人，放在一个角落里；过了一天，人们又把我送给一个讨剩饭吃的女人。

我下降为贫民了；里里外外，我一句话都不讲。不过，正在这时候，我的生活开始好转。

真是塞翁失马，焉知非福。我身体里装进了土；对于一个茶壶说来，这完全是等于入葬。但是土里却埋进了一个花根。谁放进去的，谁拿来的，我都不知道。

不过它既然放进去了，总算是弥补了中国茶叶和开水的这种损失，也算是作为把手和壶嘴打断的一种报酬。

花根躺在土里，躺在我的身体里，成了我的一颗心，一颗活着的心——这样的东西我从来还不曾有过。我现在有了生命、力量和精神。脉搏跳起来了，花根发了芽，有了思想和感觉。它开放成为花朵。

我看到它，我支持它，我在它的美中忘记了自己。为了别人而忘我——这是一桩幸福的事情！它没有感谢我；它没有想到我；它受到人们的崇拜和称赞。

我感到非常高兴；它一定也会是多么高兴啊！有一天我听到一个人说它应该有一个更好的花盆来配它才对。

因此人们把我当腰打了一下；那时我真是痛得厉害！不过花儿却迁进一个更好的花盆里去了。

至于我呢？我被扔到院子里去了。我躺在那儿简直像一堆残破的碎片——但是我的记忆还在，我忘记不了它。”

扩展资料：

安徒生童话

创作背景：

In Andersen's time, Denmark was still a monarchy society. Since the Middle Ages, social life has been rarely touched.

After the nineteenth century, there were a series of major historical changes, such as the loss of national power caused by the Napoleonic War.

the failure on the Norwegian issue, the economic recession in the 1920s, the change of the king's position from royalty to dictatorship.

the cautious and indiscriminate middle class, which made society basically in a state of political oppression and cultural ignorance.

In Andersen's works, we also feel the gray and depression of this era everywhere.

Andersen created fairy tales as a modern way of expression. He used the "children" perspective of fairy tales to perspective the complex life of modern people.

Andersen made fairy tales transcend the legendary imagination of folk literature and become a distinct individual writing and modern skill exploration.

中文版:

在安徒生所处的时代，丹麦仍是一个君主专制主义社会，自中古以降，社会生活一直极少受到触动。

进入十九世纪以后，则出现一系列重大历史变动，拿破仑战争造成的国力虚耗，在挪威问题上的失败。

20年代的经济轰退，国王由保皇立场转向独裁，中产阶级谨小慎微、委曲求全，这些都使社会基本处于政治压迫和文化愚昧状态。

在安徒生的作品中，我们也处处感到这个时代的灰色和压抑。

安徒生将童话作为一种现代表达方式来进行创作，他借用童话的“儿童”视角透视现代人的复杂生活。

安徒生让童话超越了民间文学范畴的传奇想象，成为一种鲜明的个体写作和现代技巧探索。

参考资料来源：百度百科-安徒生童话

Answer 2

THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL卖火柴的小女孩

From: http://www.hxen.com/englishlistening/other/antusheng/2007-10-11/15060.html
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening--
the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the
street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home
she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very
large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and
the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street,
because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an
urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle
when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden
walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.
She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of
them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no
one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the
poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls
around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all
the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast
goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner fomp3ed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other,
she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn
close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not
venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of
money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold
too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled,
even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a
world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw
it against the wall, and wamp3 her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!"
how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a wamp3, bright flame, like a candle, as
she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the
little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with
burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such
blessed influence; it wamp3ed so delightfully. The little girl had already
stretched out her feet to wamp3 them too; but--the small flame went out, the
stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light
fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she
could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon
it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously
with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to
behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor
with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl;
when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left
behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most
magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the
one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored
pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her.
The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went
out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now
as stars in heaven; one fell down and fomp3ed a long trail of fire.

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the
only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that
when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre
there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such
an expression of love.

"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when
the match burns out; you vanish like the wamp3 stove, like the delicious roast
goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole
bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of
keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light
that it was brighter than at noon-day: never fomp3erly had the grandmother been
so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her amp3, and both
flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was
neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy
cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on
the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her
matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to wamp3 herself,"
people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she
had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother
she had entered on the joys of a new year.

From: http://www.hxen.com/englishlistening/other/antusheng/2007-10-11/15060.html