安徒生童话故事第安琪儿The Angel

安徒生童话故事第24篇安琪儿The Angel引导语大家对安徒生的了解学习过哪些下面是小编整理的安琪儿中英文版本的，欢迎大家阅读！“只要有一个好孩子死去，就会有一个上帝的安琪儿飞到世界上来他把死去的孩子抱在怀里，展开他的白色的大翅膀，在孩子生前喜爱的地方飞翔他摘下一大把花把它们带到天上去，好叫它们开得比在人间更美丽仁慈的上帝把这些花紧紧地搂在胸前，但是他只吻那棵他认为最可爱的花这棵花于是就有了声音，能跟大家一起唱着幸福的颂歌”你听，这就是上帝的安琪儿抱着一个死孩子飞上天说所讲的话孩子听到这些话的时候，就像在做梦一样他们飞过了他在家里玩过的许多地方，飞过了开满美丽的花朵的花园“我们把哪一朵花儿带去栽在天上呢？”安琪儿问他们看见一棵细长的、美丽的玫瑰，但是它的花梗已经被一只恶毒的手摘断了所以它那些长满了半开的花苞的枝子都垂了下来，萎谢了“可怜的玫瑰花！”孩子说“把它带走吧它可以在上帝的面前开出花来的!”安琪儿就把这朵花带走了，同时还因此吻了孩子一下孩子半睁开他的眼睛他们摘下了几朵美丽的花，但也带走了几朵被人瞧不起的金凤花和野生的三色堇花“现在我们可有了花儿了”孩子说安琪儿点点头，可是他们并没有飞到天上去这是夜晚，非常静寂他们停留在这座大城里他们在一条最狭窄的街上飞街上堆着许多干草、尘土和垃圾，因为这是一个搬家的日子这儿还有破碎的碗盘、墙上脱落下来的泥块、烂布和破帽子一一这一切都不太好看安琪儿在这堆烂东西中间指着几块花盆的碎片和花盆里面掉出来的一团干泥块一大棵枯萎了的野花用它的根把自己和这块土堆系在一起这棵花现在已经没有用，因此被人抛到街上来了“我们要把这棵花带走！”安琪儿说，“我在飞行的时候再把理由告诉你Q于是他们就飞走了安琪儿讲了这样一个故事“在下面这条窄街上的一个很低的地下室里，住着一个生病的穷孩子从很小的时候起，他就一直躺在床上，他身体最好的时候，可以拄着拐杖在那个小房间里来回地走一两次他至多只能做到这一点每年夏天，太阳光有几天可以射进这个地下室的前房，每次大约有半点钟的光景当小孩坐在那儿、让温暖的太阳光照在身上的时候，他就把瘦小的指头伸到面前，望着里面的鲜红的血色这时人们就说今天这孩子出来了“他对于树林的知识是从春天的绿色中体会出来的因为邻家的孩子带给了他第一根山毛棒的绿枝他把它举在头上，幻想自己来到了一个山毛棒的树林里一一这儿有太阳光射进来，有鸟儿在唱歌“在一个春天的日子里，那个邻家的孩子又带给他几棵野花在这些野花中间，有一棵还很偶然带着根子因此这棵花就被栽在一个花盆里，放在床边，紧靠着窗子了这棵花是一只幸运的手栽种的，因此它就生长起来，冒出新芽，每年开出花朵，成了这个病孩子的最美丽的花园一一他在这世界上的一个宝库他为它浇水，照料它，尽量使它得到射进这扇低矮的‘窗子里来的每一线阳光“这棵花儿常常来到他的梦里，因为它为他开出了花，为他散发出香气，使他的眼睛得到快感当上帝召他去的时候，他在死神面前最后要看的东西就是这棵花“现在他住在天上已经有一年了在这一年中，这棵花在窗子上完全被人忘掉了它已经枯萎，因此搬家的时候，就被人扔在街上的垃圾堆里我们现在把这棵可怜的、萎谢了的花收进我们的花束中来，因为它给予人的快乐，大大超过了皇家花园里面那些最艳丽的花”“你怎么知道这件事的呢？”这个被安琪儿带上天去的孩子问“我当然知道，”安琪儿说，“因为我就是那个拄着拐杖走路的病孩子呀!我当然认识我的花！”孩子睁着一双大眼睛，凝望着安琪儿的美丽幸福的脸正在这时候，他们来到了天上，来到了和平幸福的天堂上帝把孩子紧紧地搂在胸前，但是他却吻着那棵可怜的、萎谢了的野花因此那棵野花就有了声音现在它能跟别的安琪儿一齐歌唱，并且在他们周围飞翔了一一他们有的飞得很近，有的绕着大圈子，飞得很远，飞到无垠的远方，但他们全都是幸福的他们都唱着歌一一大大小小的、善良快乐的孩子们，还有搬家那天被扔在狭巷里垃圾堆上的那棵枯萎了的可怜的野花，大家都唱着歌安琪儿英文版The AngelWHENEVERa goodchild dies,an angel of Godcomes downfrom heaven,takes thedead child in his arms,spreads outhis greatwhite wings,and flieswith himoverall theplaces whichthe childhad lovedduring hislife.Then hegathers alargehandful offlowers,which hecarries upto theAlmighty,that theymay bloommorebrightly inheaven thanthey doon earth.And theAlmighty pressesthe flowerstoHis heart,but Hekisses the flower thatpleases Himbest,and itreceives a voice,and isable tojoin the song of the chorus of bliss.”These wordswere spokenby anangelofGod,as hecarried adead childup toheaven,and the child listenedas ifin adream.Then theypassed overwell-knownspots,where thelittle onehad oftenplayed,and throughbeautiful gardensfullof lovelyflowers.“Which of these shallwe takewith usto heavento betransplanted there”asked the angel.Close bygrew aslender,beautiful,rose-bush,but somewicked handhad brokenthestem,and thehalf-opened rosebudshung fadedand witheredon thetrailingbranches.“Poor rose-bush!v said thechild,“let ustake itwith usto heaven,thatit maybloom abovein Gods garden.”The angeltook upthe rose-bush;then hekissed thechild,and thelittle onehalfopened his eyes.The angelgathered alsosome beautiful flowers,as wellasa fewhumble buttercupsand hearts-ease.“Now we have flowersenough,“said thechild;but the angel onlynodded,he didnot flyupward toheaven.It wasnight,and quitestill in the greattown.Here theyremained,and theangelhovered overa small,narrow street,in whichlay alarge heapof straw,ashes,and sweepingsfrom thehouses ofpeople whohad removed.There layfragments ofplates,pieces ofplaster,rags,old hats,and otherrubbish notpleasant tosee.Amidst allthis confusion,the angelpointed tothe piecesof abroken flower-pot,and toa lumpof earthwhich hadfallen outof it.The earthhad beenkept fromfallingto piecesby theroots ofa withered field-flower,which hadbeen thrownamongstthe rubbish.“We willtake thiswith us,“said the angel,“I willtell youwhy aswefly along.”And asthey flewtheangelrelated thehistory.“Down in that narrowlane,in alow cellar,lived apoor sick boy;he hadbeenafflicted fromhis childhood,and even inhisbest dayshe couldjust managetowalk upand downthe roomon crutchesonce ortwice,but nomore.During somedaysin summer,the sunbeamswould lieon thefloor ofthe cellarfor abouthalfan hour.In thisspot the poor sickboy wouldsit warminghimself in the sunshine,and watchingthe redblood throughhis delicatefingers ashe heldthem beforehisface.Then hewou1d sayhe hadbeen out,yet heknew nothingofthegreen forestinits springverdure,till aneighbor sson brought him agreen boughfrom abeech-tree.This hewould placeover hishead,and fancythat hewas in thebeech-wood whilethe sunshone,and thebirds carolledgayly.One springday theneighbors boybroughthimsome field-flowers,and amongthem wasone towhichthe rootstill adhered.This hecarefully plantedin aflower-pot,and placedina window-seat nearhis bed.And theflower hadbeen plantedby afortunate hand,for itgrew,put forthfresh shoots,and blossomedevery year.It becamea splendidflower-garden tothe sickboy,and hislittle treasureupon earth.He wateredit,and cherishedit,and tookcare itshould havethe benefitof everysunbeam thatfoundits wayinto thecellar,from theearliest morningray tothe eveningsunset.The flowerentwined itselfeven inhis dreams—for himit bloomed,for himspreadits perfume.And itgladdened hiseyes,and totheflowerhe turned,evenindeath,when theLord calledhim.He hasbeen oneyear withGod.During thattime theflowerhas stoodinthewindow,withered andforgotten,till atlength castout amongthesweepings into the street,on theday ofthe lodgersremoval.And thispoor flower,withered andfaded asit is,wehaveadded toour nosegay,because itgave morerealjoy thanthe mostbeautifulflowerinthegarden ofa queen.”“But howdo youknow allthis”asked thechild whomtheangelwas carryingtoheaven.“I knowit,“saidtheangel,sickboy“because Imyself wasthe poorand Iwhowalked uponcrutches,know myown flowerwell.”Then thechild openedhiseyesand lookedintotheglorious happyface oftheangel,and atthe samemoment theyfound themselvesinthatheavenly homewhereall ishappiness andjoy.And Godpressed thedeadchildto Hisheart,and wingsweregiven himso thathe couldfly withtheangel,hand inhand.Then theAlmightypressed allthe flowersto Hisheart;but Hekissed thewitheredfield-flower,andit receivedavoice.Then itjoined inthesongoftheangels,who surroundedthethrone,some near,and othersin adistant circle,but allequally happy.They alljoinedinthechorusofpraise,both greatand small,the good,happy child,and一thepoorfield-flower,that oncelay witheredand castaway ona heapof rubbishina narrow,dark street.。