贝脱、比脱和比尔的童话故事

  • A+
所属分类:民间故事

贝脱、比脱和比尔的简介

老鹳鸟给一家人送了三个小孩,分别叫贝脱、比脱和比尔,这三个小孩性格各不相同,拥有不同理想,最后长大成为不同的人物。

贝脱、比脱和比尔的故事

现在的小孩子所知道的事情真多,简直叫人难以相信!你很难说他们有什么事情不知道。说是鹳鸟把他们从井里或磨坊水闸里捞起来,然后把他们当做小孩子送给爸爸和妈妈——他们认为这是一个老故事,半点也不会相信。但是这却是唯一的真事情。

不过小孩子又怎样来到磨坊水闸和井里的呢?的确,谁也不知道,但同时却又有些人知道。你在满天星斗的夜里仔细瞧过天空和那些流星吗?你可以看到好像有星星在落下来,不见了!连最有学问的人也没有办法把自己不知道的事情解释清楚。不过假如你知道的话,你是可以作出解释的。那是像一根圣诞节的蜡烛;它从天上落下来,便熄灭了。它是来自上帝身边的一颗“灵魂的大星”。它向地下飞;当它接触到我们的沉浊的空气的时候,就失去了光彩。它变成一个我们的肉眼无法看见的东西,因为它比我们的空气还要轻得多:它是天上送下来的一个孩子——一个安琪儿,但是没有翅膀,因为这个小东西将要成为一个人。它轻轻地在空中飞。风把它送进一朵花里去。这可能是一朵兰花,一朵蒲公英,一朵玫瑰花,或是一朵樱花,它躺在花里面,恢复它的精神。

它的身体非常轻灵,一个苍蝇就能把它带走;无论如何,蜜蜂是能把它带走的,而蜜蜂经常飞来飞去,在花里寻找蜜。如果这个空气的孩子在路上捣蛋,它们决不会把它送回去,因为它们不忍心这样做。它们把它带到太阳光中去,放在睡莲的花瓣上。它就从这儿爬进水里;它在水里睡觉和生长,直到鹳鸟看到它、把它送到一个盼望可爱的孩子的人家里去为止。不过这个小家伙是不是可爱,那完全要看它是喝过了清洁的泉水,还是错吃了泥巴和青浮草而定——后者会把人弄得很不干净。

鹳鸟只要第一眼看到一个孩子就会把他衔起来,并不加以选择。这个来到一个好家庭里,碰上最理想的父母;那个来到极端穷困的人家里——还不如呆在磨坊水闸里好呢。

这些小家伙一点也记不起,他们在睡莲花瓣下面做过一些什么梦。在睡莲花底下,青蛙常常对他们唱歌:“阁,阁!呱,呱!”在人类的语言中这就等于是说:“请你们现在试试,看你们能不能睡着,做个梦!”他们现在一点也记不起自己最初是躺在哪朵花里,花儿发出怎样的香气。但是他们长大成人以后,身上却有某种品质,使他们说:“我最爱这朵花!”这朵花就是他们作为空气的孩子时睡过的花。

鹳鸟是一种很老的鸟儿。他非常关心自己送来的那些小家伙生活得怎样,行为好不好?他不能帮助他们,或者改变他们的环境,因为他有自己的家庭。但是他在思想中却没有忘记他们。

我认识一只非常善良的老鹳鸟。他有丰富的经验,他送过许多小家伙到人们的家里去,他知道他们的历史——这里面多少总是牵涉到一点磨坊水闸里的泥巴和青浮草的。我要求他把他们之中随便哪个的简历告诉我一下。他说他不止可以把一个小家伙的历史讲给我听,而且可以讲三个,他们都是发生在贝脱生家里的。

贝脱生的家庭是一个非常可爱的家庭。贝脱生是镇上32个参议员中的一员,而这是一种光荣的差使。他成天跟这32个人一道工作,经常跟他们一道消遣。鹳鸟送一个小小的贝脱到他家里来——贝脱就是一个孩子的名字。第二年鹳鸟又送一个小孩子来,他们把他叫比脱。接着第三个孩子来了;他叫比尔,因为贝脱、比脱和比尔都是贝脱生这个姓的组成部分。

这样他们就成了三兄弟。他们是三颗流星,在三朵不同的花里睡过,在磨坊水闸的睡莲花瓣下面住过。鹳鸟把他们送到贝脱生家里来。这家的屋子位于一个街角上,你们都知道。

他们在身体和思想方面都长成了大人。他们希望成为比那32个人还要伟大一点的人物。

贝脱说,他要当一个强盗。他曾经看过《魔鬼兄弟》①这出戏,所以他肯定地认为做一个大盗是世界上最愉快的事情。

比脱想当一个收破烂的人。至于比尔,他是一个温柔和蔼的孩子,又圆又肥,只是喜欢咬指甲——这是他唯一的缺点。他想当“爸爸”。如果你问他们想在世界上做些什么事情,他们每个人就这样回答你。

他们上学校。一个当班长,一个考倒数第一名,第三个不好不坏。虽然如此,他们可能是同样好,同样聪明,而事实上也是这样——这是他们非常有远见的父母说的话。

他们参加孩子的舞会。当没有人在场的时候,他们抽雪茄烟。他们得到学问,交了许多朋友。

正如一个强盗一样,贝脱从极小的时候起就很固执。他是一个非常顽皮的孩子,但是妈妈说,这是因为他身体里有虫的缘故。顽皮的孩子总是有虫——肚皮里的泥巴。他生硬和固执的脾气有一天在妈妈的新绸衣上发作了。

“我的羔羊,不要推咖啡桌!”她说。“你会把奶油壶推翻,在我的新绸衣上弄出一大块油渍来的!”

这位“羔羊”一把就抓住奶油壶,把一壶奶油倒在妈妈的衣服上。妈妈只好说:“羔羊!羔羊!你太不体贴人了!”但是她不得不承认,这孩子有坚强的意志。坚强的意志表示性格,在妈妈的眼中看来,这是一种非常有出息的现象。

他很可能成为一个强盗,但是他却没有真正成为一个强盗。他只是样子像一个强盗罢了:他戴着一顶无边帽,打着一个光脖子,留着一头又长又乱的头发。他要成为一个艺术家,不过只是在服装上是这样,实际上他很像一株蜀葵。他所画的一些人也像蜀葵,因为他把他们画得都又长又瘦。他很喜欢这种花,因为鹳鸟说,他曾经在一朵蜀葵里住过。

比脱曾经在金凤花里睡过,因此他的嘴角边现出一种黄油的表情②;他的皮肤是黄的,人们很容易相信,只要在他的脸上划一刀,就有黄油冒出来。他很像是一个天生卖黄油的人;他本人就是一个黄油招牌。但是他内心里却是一个“卡嗒卡嗒人”③。他代表贝脱生这一家在音乐方面的遗传。“不过就他们一家说来,音乐的成分已经够多了!”领居们说。他在一个星其中编了17支新的波尔卡舞曲,而他配上喇叭和卡嗒卡嗒,把它们组成一部歌剧。唔,那才可爱哩!

比尔的脸上有红有白,身材矮小,相貌平常。他在一朵雏菊里睡过。当别的孩子打他的时候,他从来不还手。他说他是一个最讲道理的人,而最讲道理的人总是让步的。他是一个收藏家;他先收集石笔,然后收集印章,最后他弄到一个收藏博物的小匣子,里面装着一条棘鱼的全部骸骨,三只用酒精浸着的小耗子和一只剥制的鼹鼠。比尔对于科学很感兴趣,对于大自然很能欣赏。这对于他的父母和自己说来,都是很好的事情。

他情愿到山林里去,而不愿进学校;他爱好大自然而不喜欢纪律。他的兄弟都已经订婚了,而他却只想着怎样完成收集水鸟蛋的工作。他对于动物的知识比对于人的知识要丰富得多。他认为在我们最重视的一个问题——爱情问题上,我们赶不上动物。他看到当母夜莺在孵卵的时候,公夜莺就整夜守在旁边,为他亲爱的妻子唱歌:嘀嘀!吱吱!咯咯——丽!像这类事儿,比尔就做不出来,连想都不会想到。当鹳鸟妈妈跟孩子们睡在窠里的时候,鹳鸟爸爸就整夜用一只腿站在屋顶上。比尔这样连一个钟头都站不了。

有一天当他在研究一个蜘蛛网里面的东西时,他忽然完全放弃了结婚的念头。蜘蛛先生忙着织网,为的是要网住那些粗心的苍蝇——年轻的、年老的、胖的和瘦的苍蝇。他活着是为了织网养家,但是蜘蛛太太却只是专为丈夫而活着。她为了爱他就一口把他吃掉:她吃掉他的心、他的头和肚皮。只有他的一双又瘦又长的腿还留在网里,作为他曾经为全家的衣食奔波过一番的纪念。这是他从博物学中得来的绝对真理。比尔亲眼看见这事情,他研究过这个问题。“这样被自己的太太爱,在热烈的爱情中这样被自己的太太一口吃掉。不,人类之中没有谁能够爱到这种地步,不过这样爱值不值得呢?”

比尔决定终身不结婚!连接吻都不愿意,他也不希望被别人吻,因为接吻可能是结婚的第一步呀。但是他却得到了一个吻——我们大家都会得到的一个吻:死神的结实的一吻。等我们活了足够长的时间以后,死神就会接到一个命令:“把他吻死吧!”于是人就死了。上帝射出一丝强烈的太阳光,把人的眼睛照得看不见东西。人的灵魂,到来的时候像一颗流星,飞走的时候也像一颗流星,但是它不再躺在一朵花里,或睡在睡莲花瓣下做梦。它有更重要的事情要做。它飞到永恒的国度里去;不过这个国度是什么样子的,谁也说不出来。谁也没有到它里面去看过,连鹳鸟都没有去看过,虽然他能看得很远,也知道很多东西。他对于比尔所知道的也不多,虽然他很了解贝脱和比脱。不过关于他们,我们已经听得够多了,我想你也是一样。所以这一次我对鹳鸟说:“谢谢你。”但是他对于这个平凡的小故事要求三个青蛙和一条小蛇的报酬,因为他是愿意得到食物作为报酬的。你愿不愿意给他呢?

我是不愿意的。我既没有青蛙,也没有小蛇呀。

贝脱、比脱和比尔的读后感

这个童话故事告诉我们:每个人都有一个平凡但又不平凡的人生。一个人从出生到成长,以及他在一生中所追求的东西都不一样,但殊途同归,最终都会终结于死亡,但是尽管如此,人生还是得继续,平和、宁静的过着。

英文版:Peiter, Peter and Pee

It is unbelievable all that children know nowadays; one can scarcely say what they don't know. They no longer believe the old story that the stork brought them to father and mother out of the well or the millpond when they were little, and yet it is really true.

But how did the little ones get down into the millpond or the well? Ah, not everyone knows that, but there are some who do. Have you ever gazed at the sky on a clear, starry night and watched the many shooting stars? It is as if the stars fall from and disappear into nowhere. Even the most learned persons can't explain what they don't know themselves; but one can explain this when he knows it. It is like a little Christmas-tree candle that falls from heaven and is blown out. It is a soul spark from our Lord that flies toward the earth, and when it reaches our thick, heavy air, it loses its brilliancy, becoming something that our eyes cannot see, something much finer than air itself; it is a little child from heaven, a little angel, but without wings, for it is to become a human child.

Softly it glides through the air, and the wind carries it into a flower, which may be an orchid, a dandelion, a rose, or a cowslip, and there it lies and rests itself. And so light and airy is it that a fly can carry it off, as, of course, a bee can, when they alternately come to seek the sweetness of the flower. If the little air child lies in their way, they do not brush it aside. That they wouldn't have the heart to do! They take it and lay it under the leaf of a water lily in the sunshine, and from there it crawls and creeps into the water, where it sleeps and grows until it is large enough for the stork to see and bring to a human family that has been longing for a sweet little child. But whether it becomes sweet or not depends on whether it has drunk pure clean water or has swallowed mud and duckweed the wrong way; that makes one so filthy!

The stork, always without preference, takes the first one he sees. One goes to kind and loving parents in a fine home; another comes to unpleasant people in such misery that it would have been much better for it to have remained in the millpond.

The little ones can never remember afterward what they dreamed while they were lying under the water-lily leaf, listening to the frogs in the evening singing, “Coax! Coax! Coax!” In human language that means, “Now you go to sleep and dream!” Nor can they remember the flower where they first lay, nor how it smelled; and yet there is always something inside them, even when they are grown people, which makes them say, “I like this flower the best.” That's because it is the one in which they were placed when they were air children.

The stork lives to be a very old bird, and he always has interest in the little ones he has brought and watches how they get along in the world and how they behave themselves. Of course, he can't do much for them or change anything in their lives, for he has his own family to look after, but at least he never lets them get out of his thoughts.

I know a very worthy, honest old stork who has had a great deal of experience, and has brought many little ones out of the water, and knows their stories - in which there is always a little mud and duckweed from the millpond. I begged him to tell me the story of one of them, and he said I should have three instead of one, and all from the Pietersens' house.

The Pietersens were an extremely nice family; the father was one of the thirty-two members of the town council, and that was an honor; he was completely wrapped up in his work with the thirty-two councilmen. When the stork brought a little fellow to this home he was named Peiter; the next year the stork brought another, and they named him Peter, and when the third one came they called him Peer - for all three names - Peiter, Peter, and Peer - are parts of the name Pietersen. So there were three brothers here - three shooting stars - and each had been cradled in a flower, then laid under the water-lily leaf in the millpond, and brought from there by the stork to the Pietersen family, whose house is on the corner, as you surely know.

They grew in body and mind, and wanted to become something more than the thirty-two councilmen were. Peiter had decided he wanted to be a robber; he had just seen the play Fra Diavolo, and that had convinced him that a robber's life was the most delightful in the world. Peter wanted to be a trash collector. And Peer, who was such a sweet and good boy, round and plump, whose only fault was biting his nails, wanted to be “Papa.” That was what each of them said he was going to be in life, whenever anybody asked them about it.

Then they went to school. One was at the head of the class, and one at the foot, and one in the middle, but in spite of that they could be equally good and clever, and they were, said their very clearsighted parents. The three went to children's parties; they smoked when nobody was watching. They gained knowledge and made acquaintances.

From the time he was quite small, Peiter was quarrelsome, just the way a robber ought to be. He was a very naughty boy, but his mother said that came from worms - naughty children always have worms - or from mud in the stomach. And one day his mother's new silk dress suffered from his obstinacy and naughtiness.

“Don't push the tea table, my good little lamb,” she had said. “You might tip over the cream pitcher, and then I'd get spots on my new silk dress.”

And so the “good little lamb” firmly took up the cream pitcher and firmly poured all the cream right into Mamma's lap. Mamma couldn't help saying, “Oh, lamb, lamb, that was careless of you, lamb!” But she had to admit that the child had a will of his own. A will means character, and that's very promising to a mother.

He might, of course, have become a robber, but he didn't, in the actual sense of the word; he only came to look like one, with his slouch hat, bare throat, and long, lank hair. He was supposed to be an artist, but he only got as far as the clothes. He looked like a hollyhock, and all the people he made drawings of looked like hollyhocks, so lanky were they. He was very fond of hollyhocks, and the stork said he had lain in that flower when he was an air child.

Peter must have lain in a buttercup. He looked buttery around the corners of his mouth, and his skin was so yellow that one would think that if his cheek were cut, butter would ooze out. He should have been a butter dealer, and could have been his own signboard; but on the inside he was a trash collector with a rattle. He was a musician of the Pietersen family - “musical enough for all of them,” the neighbors said. He composed seventeen new polkas in one week, and then put them all together and made an opera out of them, with a trumpet and rattle accompaniment. Ugh! How delightful that was!

Peer was white and red, small and quite ordinary; he had lain in a daisy. He never hit back when the other boys beat him up; he said he was the most sensible, and the most sensible always gives way first.

He was a collector, first of slate pencils, and later of letter seals. Then he got a little cabinet of curiosities of natural history, in which were the skeleton of a stickleback, three blind baby rats preserved in alcohol, and a stuffed mole. Peer had a keen appreciation of science and an eye for the beauties of nature, and that was a comfort to his parents and to him, too. He preferred wandering in the woods to going to school, preferred nature to education.

Both his brothers were engaged to be married, but he could think of nothing but completing his collection of water-bird eggs. He knew much more about animals than he did about human beings; he even thought we could never reach the heights of the animals in the feeling we consider the loftiest of all - love. He saw that when the female nightingale was setting on the nest, Papa Nightingale would perch on a branch close by and sing to his little wife all night, “Kluk-kluk! Zi-Zi! Lo-lo-li!” Peer knew he could never do that or even think of doing such a thing. When Mamma Stork had her babies in the nest, Father Stork stood guard on the edge of the roof all night, on one leg. Peer couldn't have stood that way for an hour!

Then one day when he examined a spider's web, and saw what was in it, he gave up completely any idea of marriage. Mr. Spider weaves his web for catching thoughtless flies, old and young, fat and lean; he lives only to weave and to support his family. But Madam Spider lives only for him. Out of sheer love she eats him up; she eats his heart, his head, his stomach, until only his long thin legs are left in the web where he used to sit, anxious for the welfare of his family. Now that's the real truth, right out of the natural-history book! When Peer saw all this he grew very thoughtful; to be so dearly loved by a wife that she eats one up out of violent love? No! No human being could love like that, and would it be desirable, anyway?

Peer resolved never to marry, or even to give or take a kiss, for that might seem the first step toward marriage. But he did receive a kiss, anyway, the same kiss we all get someday, the great kiss of Death. When we have lived long enough, Death is given the order, “kiss him away,” and so away the human goes. A ray of sunshine comes straight from our Lord, so bright that it almost blinds one. Then the soul that came from heaven as a shooting star goes back like a shooting star, but this time not to sleep in a flower or dream beneath the leaf of the water lily; it has more important things than that to do. It enters the great land of eternity; but what that is like and what it looks like there, no one can say. No one has looked into it, not even the stork, though he sees far and knows much.

The stork knew nothing more of Peer, whereas he could have told me lots more about Peiter and Peter. But I had heard enough of them, and I suppose you have, too, so I thanked him and bade him good-by for this time. But now he demands three frogs and a little snake as payment for this simple little story - you see, he takes his pay in food. Will you pay him? I can't; I have neither frogs nor snakes.

文章来源:安徒生童话

发表评论

:?: :razz: :sad: :evil: :!: :smile: :oops: :grin: :eek: :shock: :???: :cool: :lol: :mad: :twisted: :roll: :wink: :idea: :arrow: :neutral: :cry: :mrgreen: