By the almshouse window 瓦尔都窗前的一瞥
作者：古文学 时间：2017/12/18 8:50:12 阅读：次 类别：英语童话
BYTHEALMSHOUSEWINDOW瓦尔都窗前的一瞥
NEARthegrass-coveredrampartwhichencirclesCopenhagenliesagreatredhouse.Balsamsandotherflowersgreetusfromthelongrowsofwindowsinthehouse,whoseinteriorissufficientlypoverty-stricken;andpoorandoldarethepeoplewhoinhabitit.ThebuildingistheWartonAlmshouse.Look!atthewindowthereleansanoldmaid.Sheplucksthewitheredleaffromthebalsam,andlooksatthegrass-coveredrampart,onwhichmanychildrenareplaying.Whatistheoldmaidthinkingof?Awholelifedramaisunfoldingitselfbeforeherinwardgaze.
"Thepoorlittlechildren,howhappytheyare-howmerrilytheyplayandromptogether!Whatredcheeksandwhatangels’eyes!buttheyhavenoshoesnorstockings.Theydanceonthegreenrampart,justontheplacewhere,accordingtotheoldstory,thegroundalwayssankin,andwhereasportive,frolicsomechildhadbeenluredbymeansofflowers,toysandsweetmeatsintoanopengravereadydugforit,andwhichwasafterwardsclosedoverthechild;andfromthatmoment,theoldstorysays,thegroundgavewaynolonger,themoundremainedfirmandfast,andwasquicklycoveredwiththegreenturf.Thelittlepeoplewhonowplayonthatspotknownothingoftheoldtale,elsewouldtheyfancytheyheardachildcryingdeepbelowtheearth,andthedewdropsoneachbladeofgrasswouldbetothemtearsofwoe.NordotheyknowanythingoftheDanishKingwhohere,inthefaceofthecomingfoe,tookanoathbeforeallhistremblingcourtiersthathewouldholdoutwiththecitizensofhiscapital,anddiehereinhisnest;theyknownothingofthemenwhohavefoughthere,orofthewomenwhofromherehavedrenchedwithboilingwatertheenemy,cladinwhite,and’bidinginthesnowtosurprisethecity.
"No!thepoorlittleonesareplayingwithlight,childishspirits.Playon,playon,thoulittlemaiden!Soontheyearswillcome-yes,thosegloriousyears.Thepriestlyhandshavebeenlaidonthecandidatesforconfirmation;handinhandtheywalkonthegreenrampart.Thouhastawhitefrockon;ithascostthymothermuchlabor,andyetitisonlycutdownfortheeoutofanoldlargerdress!Youwillalsoweararedshawl;andwhatifithangtoofardown?Peoplewillonlyseehowlarge,howverylargeitis.Youarethinkingofyourdress,andoftheGiverofallgood-sogloriousisittowanderonthegreenrampart!
"Andtheyearsrollby;theyhavenolackofdarkdays,butyouhaveyourcheerfulyoungspirit,andyouhavegainedafriend-youknownothow.Youmet,oh,howoften!Youwalktogetherontherampartinthefreshspring,onthehighdaysandholidays,whenalltheworldcomeouttowalkupontheramparts,andallthebellsofthechurchsteeplesseemtobesingingasongofpraiseforthecomingspring.
"Scarcelyhavethevioletscomeforth,butthereontherampart,justoppositethebeautifulCastleofRosenberg,thereisatreebrightwiththefirstgreenbuds.Everyyearthistreesendsforthfreshgreenshoots.Alas!Itisnotsowiththehumanheart!Darkmists,moreinnumberthanthosethatcoverthenorthernskies,cloudthehumanheart.Poorchild!thyfriend’sbridalchamberisablackcoffin,andthoubecomestanoldmaid.Fromthealmshousewindow,behindthebalsams,thoushaltlookonthemerrychildrenatplay,andshaltseethineownhistoryrenewed."
Andthatisthelifedramathatpassesbeforetheoldmaidwhileshelooksoutupontherampart,thegreen,sunnyrampart,wherethechildren,withtheirredcheeksandbareshoelessfeet,arerejoicingmerrily,liketheotherfreelittlebirds.
THEEND
NEARthegrass-coveredrampartwhichencirclesCopenhagenliesagreatredhouse.Balsamsandotherflowersgreetusfromthelongrowsofwindowsinthehouse,whoseinteriorissufficientlypoverty-stricken;andpoorandoldarethepeoplewhoinhabitit.ThebuildingistheWartonAlmshouse.Look!atthewindowthereleansanoldmaid.Sheplucksthewitheredleaffromthebalsam,andlooksatthegrass-coveredrampart,onwhichmanychildrenareplaying.Whatistheoldmaidthinkingof?Awholelifedramaisunfoldingitselfbeforeherinwardgaze.
"Thepoorlittlechildren,howhappytheyare-howmerrilytheyplayandromptogether!Whatredcheeksandwhatangels’eyes!buttheyhavenoshoesnorstockings.Theydanceonthegreenrampart,justontheplacewhere,accordingtotheoldstory,thegroundalwayssankin,andwhereasportive,frolicsomechildhadbeenluredbymeansofflowers,toysandsweetmeatsintoanopengravereadydugforit,andwhichwasafterwardsclosedoverthechild;andfromthatmoment,theoldstorysays,thegroundgavewaynolonger,themoundremainedfirmandfast,andwasquicklycoveredwiththegreenturf.Thelittlepeoplewhonowplayonthatspotknownothingoftheoldtale,elsewouldtheyfancytheyheardachildcryingdeepbelowtheearth,andthedewdropsoneachbladeofgrasswouldbetothemtearsofwoe.NordotheyknowanythingoftheDanishKingwhohere,inthefaceofthecomingfoe,tookanoathbeforeallhistremblingcourtiersthathewouldholdoutwiththecitizensofhiscapital,anddiehereinhisnest;theyknownothingofthemenwhohavefoughthere,orofthewomenwhofromherehavedrenchedwithboilingwatertheenemy,cladinwhite,and’bidinginthesnowtosurprisethecity.
"No!thepoorlittleonesareplayingwithlight,childishspirits.Playon,playon,thoulittlemaiden!Soontheyearswillcome-yes,thosegloriousyears.Thepriestlyhandshavebeenlaidonthecandidatesforconfirmation;handinhandtheywalkonthegreenrampart.Thouhastawhitefrockon;ithascostthymothermuchlabor,andyetitisonlycutdownfortheeoutofanoldlargerdress!Youwillalsoweararedshawl;andwhatifithangtoofardown?Peoplewillonlyseehowlarge,howverylargeitis.Youarethinkingofyourdress,andoftheGiverofallgood-sogloriousisittowanderonthegreenrampart!
"Andtheyearsrollby;theyhavenolackofdarkdays,butyouhaveyourcheerfulyoungspirit,andyouhavegainedafriend-youknownothow.Youmet,oh,howoften!Youwalktogetherontherampartinthefreshspring,onthehighdaysandholidays,whenalltheworldcomeouttowalkupontheramparts,andallthebellsofthechurchsteeplesseemtobesingingasongofpraiseforthecomingspring.
"Scarcelyhavethevioletscomeforth,butthereontherampart,justoppositethebeautifulCastleofRosenberg,thereisatreebrightwiththefirstgreenbuds.Everyyearthistreesendsforthfreshgreenshoots.Alas!Itisnotsowiththehumanheart!Darkmists,moreinnumberthanthosethatcoverthenorthernskies,cloudthehumanheart.Poorchild!thyfriend’sbridalchamberisablackcoffin,andthoubecomestanoldmaid.Fromthealmshousewindow,behindthebalsams,thoushaltlookonthemerrychildrenatplay,andshaltseethineownhistoryrenewed."
Andthatisthelifedramathatpassesbeforetheoldmaidwhileshelooksoutupontherampart,thegreen,sunnyrampart,wherethechildren,withtheirredcheeksandbareshoelessfeet,arerejoicingmerrily,liketheotherfreelittlebirds.
THEEND