亚麻的童话故事

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所属分类:民间故事

亚麻的故事简介

这个故事说的是有一棵亚麻他一直幻想着自己能变成美丽的布,终于有一天,有一个人,把他从土里拔出来带到了工厂。亚麻经过了很多的周折,终于变成了美丽的布。然后,人们有从他的身上封上了线,变成了衣服。他卖了出去。被穿在一个小女孩的身上,亚麻心里又说不出的高兴。但是过了几年,小女孩长大了,衣服变小了,亚麻又被带到了工厂。亚麻最后变成了一本书,有很多知识,终于受到了大家的尊敬。

亚麻的故事

一棵亚麻开满了花。它开满了非常美丽的蓝花。花朵柔软得像飞蛾的翅膀,甚至比那还要柔软。太阳照在亚麻身上,雨雾润泽着它。这正好像孩子被洗了一番以后,又从妈妈那里得到了一个吻一样——使他们变得更可爱。亚麻也是这样。

“人们说,我长得太好了,”亚麻说,“并且还说我又美又长,将来可以织成很好看的布。嗨,我是多么幸运啊!我将来一定是最幸运的人!太阳光多么使人快乐!雨的味道是多么好,多么使人感到新鲜!我是分外地幸运;我是一切东西之中最幸运的!”

“对,对,对!”篱笆桩说。“你不了解这个世界,但是我们了解,因为我们身上长得有节!”于是它们就悲观地发出吱吱格格的声音来:

吱——格——嘘,

拍——呼——吁,

歌儿完了。

“没有,歌儿并没有完了呀!”亚麻说。“明天早晨太阳就会出来,雨就会使人愉快。我能听见我在生长的声音,我能觉得我在开花!我是一切生物中最幸运的!”

不过有一天,人们走过来捏着亚麻的头,把它连根从土里拔出来。它受了伤。它被放在水里,好像人们要把它淹死似的。然后它又被放在火上,好像人们要把它烤死似的。这真是可怕!

“一个人不能永远过着幸福的时光!”亚麻说。“一个人应该吃点苦,才能懂得一些事情。”

不过更糟糕的时候到来了。亚麻被折断了,撕碎了,揉打了和梳理了一通。是的,它自己也不知道这是一套什么玩艺儿。它被装在一架纺车上——吱格!吱格!吱格——这把它弄得头昏脑涨,连思想都不可能了。

“我有个时候曾经是非常幸运的!”它在痛苦中作这样的回忆。“一个人在幸福的时候应该知道快乐!快乐!快乐!啊!”当它被装到织布机上去的时候,它仍然在说这样的话。于是它被织成了一大块美丽的布。所有的亚麻,每一根亚麻,都被织成了这块布。

“不过,这真是出人意料之外!我以前决不会相信的!嗨!我是多么幸福啊!是的,篱笆桩这样唱是有道理的:

吱——格——嘘,

拍——呼——吁!

“歌儿一点也不能算是完了!它现在还不过是刚刚开始呢!这真是意想不到!如果说我吃了一点苦头,总算没有白吃。我是一切东西中最幸福的!我是多么结实、多么柔和、多么白、多么长啊!我原不过只是一棵植物——哪怕还开得有花;和从前比起来,我现在完全是两样!从前没有谁照料我,只有在天下雨的时候我才得到一点水。现在却有人来照料我了!女仆人每天早上把我翻一翻,每天晚上我在水盆里洗一个淋水浴。是的,牧师的太太甚至还作了一篇关于我的演讲,说我是整个教区里最好的一块布。我不能比这更幸福了!”

现在这块布来到屋子里面,被一把剪刀裁剪着。人们是在怎样剪它,在怎样裁它,在怎样用针刺它啊!人们就是这样对付它,而这并不是太愉快的事情。它被裁成一件衣服的12个没有名字、但是缺一不可的部分——恰恰是一打!

“嗨,现在我总算得到一点结果!这就是我的命运!是的,这才是真正的幸福呢!我现在算是对世界有点用处了,而这也是应该的——这才是真正的快乐!我们变成了12件东西,但同时我们又是一个整体。我们是一打,这是稀有的幸运!”

许多年过去了。它们再无法守在一起了。

“有一天总会完了,”每一个部分说。“我倒希望我们能在一起待得久一点,不过你不能指望不可能的事情呀!”

它们现在被撕成了烂布片。它们以为现在一切都完了,因为它们被剁细了,并且被水煮了。是的,它们自己也不知道它们是什么。最后它们变成了美丽的白纸。

“哎唷,这真是奇事,一件可爱的奇事!”纸说。“我现在比以前更美丽了,人们将在我身上写出字来!这真是绝顶的好运气!”

它上面写了字——写了最美丽的故事。人们听着这些写下来的故事——这都是些聪明和美好的事情,听了能够使人变得更聪明和更美好。这些写在纸上的字是最大的幸福。

“这比我是一朵田野里的小蓝花时所能梦想得到的东西要美妙得多。我怎能想到我能在人类中间散布快乐和知识呢?我连自己都不懂得这道理!不过事实确是如此。上帝知道,除了我微弱的力量为了保存自己所能做到的一点事情以外,我什么本事也没有!然而他却不停地给我快乐和光荣。每次当我一想到'歌儿完了'的时候,歌儿却以更高贵、更美好的方式重新开始。现在无疑地我将要被送到世界各地去旅行,好使人人都能读到我。这种事情是很可能的!从前我有蓝花儿,现在每一朵花儿都变成了最美丽的思想!我在一切东西中是最幸福的!”

不过纸并没有去旅行,却到一个印刷所里去了。它上面所写的东西都被排成了书,也可以说几千几百本的书,因为这样才可以使无数的人得到快乐和好处。这比起写在纸上、周游世界不到半路就毁坏了的这种情况来,要好得多。

“是的,这的确是一个最聪明的办法!”写上了字的纸想。

“我确实没有想到这一点!我将待在家里,受人尊敬,像一位老祖父一样!文章是写在我的身上;字句从笔尖直接流到我的身体里面去。我没有动,而是书本在各处旅行。我现在的确能够做点事情!我是多么高兴,我是多么幸福啊!”

于是纸被卷成一个小卷,放到书架上去了。

“工作过后休息一阵是很好的,”纸说。“把思想集中一下,想想自己肚皮里有些什么东西——这是对的。现在我第一次知道我有些什么本事——认识自己就是进步。我还会变成什么呢?我仍然会前进;我永远是前进的!”

有一天纸被放在炉子上要烧掉,因为它不能卖给杂贷店里去包黄油和红糖。屋里的孩子们都围做一团;他们要看看它烧起来,他们要看看火灰里的那些红火星——这些火星很快就一个接着一个地不见了,熄灭了。这很像放了学的孩子。最后的一颗火星简直像老师:大家总以为他早走了,但是他却在别人的后面走出来。

所有的纸被卷成一卷,放在火上。噢!它烧得才快呢。

“噢!”它说,同时变成了一朵明亮的焰花。焰花升得很高,亚麻从来没有能够把它的小蓝花开得这样高过。它发出白麻布从来发不出的闪光。它上面写的字一忽儿全都变红了;那些词句和思想都成了火焰。

“现在我要直接升向太阳了!”火焰中有一个声音说。这好像一千个声音在合唱。焰花通过烟囱一直跑到外面去。在那儿,比焰花还要细微的、人眼所看不见的、微小的生物在浮动着,数目之多,比得上亚麻所开的花朵。它们比产生它们的火焰还要轻。当火焰熄灭了、当纸只剩下一撮黑灰的时候,它们还在灰上跳了一次舞。它们在它们所接触过的地方都留下了痕迹——许多小小的红火星。孩子们都从学校里走出来,老师总是跟在最后!看看这情形真好玩!家里的孩子站在死灰的周围,唱出一支歌——

吱——格——嘘,

拍——呼——吁!

歌儿完了!

不过那些细小的、看不见的小生物都说:

“歌儿是永远不会完的!这是一切歌中最好的一支歌!我知道这一点,因此我是最幸福的!”

但是孩子们既听不见,也不懂这话;事实上他们也不应该懂,因为孩子不应该什么东西都知道呀。

亚麻的故事寓意

这篇童话故事告诉了我们要向亚麻这种植物一样,坚持自己的梦想,勇往直前,不要因为一点点困难而放弃自己。一个人不能永远都那么顺利,吃点苦头才会明白更多的事情。我们要学习亚麻那种坚持不懈的精神,保持乐观的心态。

英文版:The Flax

THE flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax.

“People say that I look exceedingly well,” said the flax, “and that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me so happy, it is such a pleasant thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain; my happiness overpowers me, no one in the world can feel happier than I am.”

“Ah, yes, no doubt,” said the fern, “but you do not know the world yet as well as I do, for my sticks are knotty;” and then it sung quite mournfully—

“Snip, snap, snurre,

Basse lurre:

The song is ended.”

“No, it is not ended,” said the flax. “To-morrow the sun will shine, or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures.”

Well, one day some people came, who took hold of the flax, and pulled it up by the roots; this was painful; then it was laid in water as if they intended to drown it; and, after that, placed near a fire as if it were to be roasted; all this was very shocking. “We cannot expect to be happy always,” said the flax; “by experiencing evil as well as good, we become wise.” And certainly there was plenty of evil in store for the flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, and combed; indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it. At last it was put on the spinning wheel. “Whirr, whirr,” went the wheel so quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. “Well, I have been very happy,” he thought in the midst of his pain, “and must be contented with the past;” and contented he remained till he was put on the loom, and became a beautiful piece of white linen. All the flax, even to the last stalk, was used in making this one piece. “Well, this is quite wonderful; I could not have believed that I should be so favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of

‘Snip, snap, snurre,

Basse lurre.’

But the song is not ended yet, I am sure; it is only just beginning. How wonderful it is, that after all I have suffered, I am made something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world—so strong and fine; and how white, and what a length! This is something different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, nor any water unless it rained; now, I am watched and taken care of. Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman’s wife noticed me, and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now.”

After some time, the linen was taken into the house, placed under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and then pricked with needles. This certainly was not pleasant; but at last it was made into twelve garments of that kind which people do not like to name, and yet everybody should wear one. “See, now, then,” said the flax; “I have become something of importance. This was my destiny; it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as everyone ought to be; it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into twelve pieces, and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen. It is most extraordinary good fortune.”

Years passed away, and at last the linen was so worn it could scarcely hold together. “It must end very soon,” said the pieces to each other; “we would gladly have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect impossibilities.” And at length they fell into rags and tatters, and thought it was all over with them, for they were torn to shreds, and steeped in water, and made into a pulp, and dried, and they knew not what besides, till all at once they found themselves beautiful white paper. “Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious surprise too,” said the paper. “I am now finer than ever, and I shall be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may have written upon me. This is wonderful luck!” And sure enough the most beautiful stories and poetry were written upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was very fortunate. Then people heard the stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser and better; for all that was written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great blessing was contained in the words on this paper.

“I never imagined anything like this,” said the paper, “when I was only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever.”

But the paper did not go on its travels; it was sent to the printer, and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to make a book, or rather, many hundreds of books; for so many more persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book, than from the written paper; and if the paper had been sent around the world, it would have been worn out before it had got half through its journey.

“This is certainly the wisest plan,” said the written paper; “I really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all.”

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.

“After work, it is well to rest,” said the paper, “and a very good opportunity to collect one’s thoughts. Now I am able, for the first time, to think of my real condition; and to know one’s self is true progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite well.”

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken out, and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had been written upon. The children in the house stood round the stove; for they wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen running one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind. They called it seeing the children come out of school, and the last spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had come; and one would cry, “There goes the schoolmaster;” but the next moment another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they would like to know where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find out some day, but we don’t know now.

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was soon alight. “Ugh,” cried the paper, as it burst into a bright flame; “ugh.” It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen never could have glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment, and all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

“Now I am mounting straight up to the sun,” said a voice in the flames; and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the flames darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them. They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which they were born; and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing remained of the paper but black ashes, these little beings danced upon it; and whenever they touched it, bright red sparks appeared.

“The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was the last of all,” said the children. It was good fun, and they sang over the dead ashes,—

“Snip, snap, snurre,

Basse lure:

The song is ended.”

But the little invisible beings said, “The song is never ended; the most beautiful is yet to come.”

But the children could neither hear nor understand this, nor should they; for children must not know everything.

文章来源:安徒生童话

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