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賣火柴的小女孩 The Little Match Girl
天氣冷得可怕。正在下雪，黑暗的夜幕開始垂下來了。這是這年最後的一夜——新年的前夕。在這樣的寒冷和黑暗中，有一個光頭赤腳的小女孩正在街上走着。是的，她離開傢的時候還穿着一雙拖鞋，但那又有什麽用呢？那是一雙非常大的拖鞋——那麽大，最近她媽媽一直在穿着。當她匆忙地越過街道的時候，兩輛馬車飛奔着闖過來，弄得小姑娘把鞋跑落了。有一隻她怎樣也尋不到，另一隻又被一個男孩子撿起來，拿着逃走了。男孩子還說，等他將來有孩子的時候，可以把它當做一個搖籃來使用。
現在小姑娘衹好赤着一雙小腳走。小腳已經凍得發紅發青了。她有許多火柴包在一個舊圍裙裏；她手中還拿着一紮。這一整天誰也沒有嚮她買過一根；誰也沒有給她一個銅板。
可憐的小姑娘！她又餓又凍得嚮前走，簡直是一幅愁苦的畫面。雪花落到她金黃的長頭髮上——它捲麯地散落在她的肩上，看上去非常美麗。不過她並沒有想到自己漂亮。所有的窗子都射出光來，街上飄着一股烤鵝肉①的香味。的確，這是除夕。她在想這件事情。
那兒有兩座房子，其中一座房子比另一座更嚮街心伸出一點，她便在這個墻角裏坐下來，縮作一團。她把一雙小腳也縮進來，不過她感到更冷。她不敢回傢裏去，因為她沒有賣掉一根火柴，沒有賺到一個銅板。她的父親一定會打她，而且傢裏也是很冷的，因為他們頭上衹有一個可以灌進風來的屋頂，雖然最大的裂口已經用草和破布堵住了。
她的一雙小手幾乎凍僵了。唉！哪怕一根小火柴對她也是有好處的。衹要她敢抽出一根來，在墻上擦着了，就可以暖暖手！最後她抽出一根來了。哧！它燃起來了，冒出火光來了！當她把手覆在上面的時候，它便變成了一朵溫暖、光明的火焰，像是一根小小的蠟燭。這是一道美麗的小光！小姑娘覺得真像坐在一個鐵火爐旁邊一樣：它有光亮的黃銅圓捏手和黃銅爐身，火燒得那麽歡，那麽暖，那麽美！唉，這是怎麽一回事兒？當小姑娘剛剛伸出一雙腳，打算暖一暖腳的時候，火焰就忽然熄滅了！火爐也不見了。她坐在那兒，手中衹有燒過了的火柴。
她又擦了一根。它燃起來了，發出光來了。墻上有亮光照着的那塊地方，現在變得透明，像一片薄紗；她可以看到房間裏的東西：桌上鋪着雪白的臺布，上面有精緻的碗盤，填滿了梅子和蘋果的、冒着香氣的烤鵝。更美妙的事情是：這衹鵝從盤子裏跳出來了，背上插着刀叉，蹣跚地在地上走着，一直嚮這個窮苦的小姑娘面前走來。這時火柴就熄滅了；她面前衹有一堵又厚又冷的墻。
她點了另一根火柴。現在她是坐在美麗的聖誕樹下面。上次聖誕節時，她透過玻璃門，看到一個富有商人傢裏的一株聖誕樹；可是現在這一株比那株還要大，還要美。它的緑枝上燃着幾千支蠟燭；彩色的圖畫，跟櫥窗裏挂着的那些一樣美麗，在嚮她眨眼。這個小姑娘把兩衹手伸過去。於是火柴就熄滅了。聖誕節的燭光越升越高。她看到它們現在變成了明亮的星星。這些星星有一顆落下來了，在天上劃出一條長長的光綫。
“現在又有一個什麽人死去了②，”小姑娘說，因為她的老祖母曾經說過：天上落下一顆星，地上就有一個靈魂升到了上帝那兒去。老祖母是唯一對她好的人，但是現在已經死了。
她在墻上又擦了一根火柴。它把四周都照亮了；在這光亮中老祖母出現了。她顯得那麽光明，那麽溫柔，那麽和藹。
“祖母！”小姑娘叫起來。“啊！請把我帶走吧！我知道，這火柴一滅掉，你就會不見了，你就會像那個溫暖的火爐、那衹美麗的烤鵝、那棵幸福的聖誕樹一樣地不見了！”
於是她急忙把整束火柴中剩下的火柴都擦亮了，因為她非常想把祖母留住。這些火柴發出強烈的光芒，照得比大白天還要明朗。祖母從來沒有像現在這樣顯得美麗和高大。她把小姑娘抱起來，摟到懷裏。她們兩人在光明和快樂中飛走了，越飛越高，飛到既沒有寒冷，也沒有饑餓，也沒有憂愁的那塊地方——她們是跟上帝在一起。
不過在一個寒冷的早晨，這個小姑娘卻坐在一個墻角裏；她的雙頰通紅，嘴唇發出微笑，她已經死了——在舊年的除夕凍死了。新年的太陽升起來了，照着她小小的屍體！她坐在那兒，手中還捏着火柴——其中有一紮差不多都燒光了。
“她想把自己暖和一下，”人們說。誰也不知道：她曾經看到過多麽美麗的東西，她曾經是多麽光榮地跟祖母一起，走到新年的幸福中去。
①烤鵝肉是丹麥聖誕節和除夕晚餐中的一個主菜。
②北歐人的迷信：世界上有一個人，天上便有一顆星。一顆星的隕落象徵一個人的死亡。
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 formed 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 warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, 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 warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm 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 formed 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 warm 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 formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, 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 warm 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.
Another version:
The Little Match Girl
by Hans Christian Anderson
Once upon a time . . . a little girl tried to make a living by selling matches in the street.
It was New Year's Eve and the snow-clad streets were deserted. From brightly lit windows came the tinkle of laughter and the sound of singing. People were getting ready to bring in the New Year. But the poor little match seller sat sadly beside the fountain. Her ragged dress and worn shawl did not keep out the cold and she tried to keep her bare feet from touching the frozen ground. She hadn't sold one box of matches all day and she was frightened to go home, for her father would certainly be angry. It wouldn't be much warmer anyway, in the draughty attic that was her home. The little girl's fingers were stiff with cold. If only she could light a match! But what would her father say at such a waste! Falteringly she took out a match and lit it. What a nice warm flame! The little match seller cupped her hand over it, and as she did so, she magically saw in its light a big brightly burning stove.
She held out her hands to the heat, but just then the match went out and the vision faded. The night seemed blacker than before and it was getting colder. A shiver ran through the little girl's thin body.
After hesitating for a long time, she struck another match on the wall, and this time, the glimmer turned the wall into a great sheet of crystal. Beyond that stood a fine table laden with food and lit by a candlestick. Holding out her arms towards the plates, the little match-seller seemed to pass through the glass, but then the match went out and the magic faded. Poor thing: in just a few seconds she had caught a glimpse of everything that life had denied her: warmth and good things to eat. Her eyes filled with tears and she lifted her gaze to the lit windows, praying that she too might know a little of such happiness.
She lit the third match and an even more wonderful thing happened. There stood a Christmas tree hung with hundreds of candles, glittering with tinsel and coloured balls. "Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed the little match seller, holding up the match. Then, the match burned her finger and flickered out. The light from the Christmas candles rose higher and higher, then one of the lights fell, leaving a trail behind it. "Someone is dying," murmured the little girl, as she remembered her beloved Granny who used to say: "When a star falls, a heart stops beating!"
Scarcely aware of what she was doing, the little match seller lit another match. This time, she saw her grandmother.
"Granny, stay with me!" she pleaded, as she lit one match after the other, so that her grandmother could not disappear like all the other visions. However, Granny did not vanish, but gazed smilingly at her. Then she opened her arms and the little girl hugged her crying: "Granny, take me away with you!"
A cold day dawned and a pale sun shone on the fountain and the icy road. Close by lay the lifeless body of a little girl surrounded by spent matches. "Poor little thing!" exclaimed the passers-by. "She was trying to keep warm!"
But by that time, the little match seller was far away where there is neither cold, hunger nor pain.
現在小姑娘衹好赤着一雙小腳走。小腳已經凍得發紅發青了。她有許多火柴包在一個舊圍裙裏；她手中還拿着一紮。這一整天誰也沒有嚮她買過一根；誰也沒有給她一個銅板。
可憐的小姑娘！她又餓又凍得嚮前走，簡直是一幅愁苦的畫面。雪花落到她金黃的長頭髮上——它捲麯地散落在她的肩上，看上去非常美麗。不過她並沒有想到自己漂亮。所有的窗子都射出光來，街上飄着一股烤鵝肉①的香味。的確，這是除夕。她在想這件事情。
那兒有兩座房子，其中一座房子比另一座更嚮街心伸出一點，她便在這個墻角裏坐下來，縮作一團。她把一雙小腳也縮進來，不過她感到更冷。她不敢回傢裏去，因為她沒有賣掉一根火柴，沒有賺到一個銅板。她的父親一定會打她，而且傢裏也是很冷的，因為他們頭上衹有一個可以灌進風來的屋頂，雖然最大的裂口已經用草和破布堵住了。
她的一雙小手幾乎凍僵了。唉！哪怕一根小火柴對她也是有好處的。衹要她敢抽出一根來，在墻上擦着了，就可以暖暖手！最後她抽出一根來了。哧！它燃起來了，冒出火光來了！當她把手覆在上面的時候，它便變成了一朵溫暖、光明的火焰，像是一根小小的蠟燭。這是一道美麗的小光！小姑娘覺得真像坐在一個鐵火爐旁邊一樣：它有光亮的黃銅圓捏手和黃銅爐身，火燒得那麽歡，那麽暖，那麽美！唉，這是怎麽一回事兒？當小姑娘剛剛伸出一雙腳，打算暖一暖腳的時候，火焰就忽然熄滅了！火爐也不見了。她坐在那兒，手中衹有燒過了的火柴。
她又擦了一根。它燃起來了，發出光來了。墻上有亮光照着的那塊地方，現在變得透明，像一片薄紗；她可以看到房間裏的東西：桌上鋪着雪白的臺布，上面有精緻的碗盤，填滿了梅子和蘋果的、冒着香氣的烤鵝。更美妙的事情是：這衹鵝從盤子裏跳出來了，背上插着刀叉，蹣跚地在地上走着，一直嚮這個窮苦的小姑娘面前走來。這時火柴就熄滅了；她面前衹有一堵又厚又冷的墻。
她點了另一根火柴。現在她是坐在美麗的聖誕樹下面。上次聖誕節時，她透過玻璃門，看到一個富有商人傢裏的一株聖誕樹；可是現在這一株比那株還要大，還要美。它的緑枝上燃着幾千支蠟燭；彩色的圖畫，跟櫥窗裏挂着的那些一樣美麗，在嚮她眨眼。這個小姑娘把兩衹手伸過去。於是火柴就熄滅了。聖誕節的燭光越升越高。她看到它們現在變成了明亮的星星。這些星星有一顆落下來了，在天上劃出一條長長的光綫。
“現在又有一個什麽人死去了②，”小姑娘說，因為她的老祖母曾經說過：天上落下一顆星，地上就有一個靈魂升到了上帝那兒去。老祖母是唯一對她好的人，但是現在已經死了。
她在墻上又擦了一根火柴。它把四周都照亮了；在這光亮中老祖母出現了。她顯得那麽光明，那麽溫柔，那麽和藹。
“祖母！”小姑娘叫起來。“啊！請把我帶走吧！我知道，這火柴一滅掉，你就會不見了，你就會像那個溫暖的火爐、那衹美麗的烤鵝、那棵幸福的聖誕樹一樣地不見了！”
於是她急忙把整束火柴中剩下的火柴都擦亮了，因為她非常想把祖母留住。這些火柴發出強烈的光芒，照得比大白天還要明朗。祖母從來沒有像現在這樣顯得美麗和高大。她把小姑娘抱起來，摟到懷裏。她們兩人在光明和快樂中飛走了，越飛越高，飛到既沒有寒冷，也沒有饑餓，也沒有憂愁的那塊地方——她們是跟上帝在一起。
不過在一個寒冷的早晨，這個小姑娘卻坐在一個墻角裏；她的雙頰通紅，嘴唇發出微笑，她已經死了——在舊年的除夕凍死了。新年的太陽升起來了，照着她小小的屍體！她坐在那兒，手中還捏着火柴——其中有一紮差不多都燒光了。
“她想把自己暖和一下，”人們說。誰也不知道：她曾經看到過多麽美麗的東西，她曾經是多麽光榮地跟祖母一起，走到新年的幸福中去。
①烤鵝肉是丹麥聖誕節和除夕晚餐中的一個主菜。
②北歐人的迷信：世界上有一個人，天上便有一顆星。一顆星的隕落象徵一個人的死亡。
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 formed 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 warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, 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 warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm 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 formed 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 warm 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 formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, 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 warm 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.
Another version:
The Little Match Girl
by Hans Christian Anderson
Once upon a time . . . a little girl tried to make a living by selling matches in the street.
It was New Year's Eve and the snow-clad streets were deserted. From brightly lit windows came the tinkle of laughter and the sound of singing. People were getting ready to bring in the New Year. But the poor little match seller sat sadly beside the fountain. Her ragged dress and worn shawl did not keep out the cold and she tried to keep her bare feet from touching the frozen ground. She hadn't sold one box of matches all day and she was frightened to go home, for her father would certainly be angry. It wouldn't be much warmer anyway, in the draughty attic that was her home. The little girl's fingers were stiff with cold. If only she could light a match! But what would her father say at such a waste! Falteringly she took out a match and lit it. What a nice warm flame! The little match seller cupped her hand over it, and as she did so, she magically saw in its light a big brightly burning stove.
She held out her hands to the heat, but just then the match went out and the vision faded. The night seemed blacker than before and it was getting colder. A shiver ran through the little girl's thin body.
After hesitating for a long time, she struck another match on the wall, and this time, the glimmer turned the wall into a great sheet of crystal. Beyond that stood a fine table laden with food and lit by a candlestick. Holding out her arms towards the plates, the little match-seller seemed to pass through the glass, but then the match went out and the magic faded. Poor thing: in just a few seconds she had caught a glimpse of everything that life had denied her: warmth and good things to eat. Her eyes filled with tears and she lifted her gaze to the lit windows, praying that she too might know a little of such happiness.
She lit the third match and an even more wonderful thing happened. There stood a Christmas tree hung with hundreds of candles, glittering with tinsel and coloured balls. "Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed the little match seller, holding up the match. Then, the match burned her finger and flickered out. The light from the Christmas candles rose higher and higher, then one of the lights fell, leaving a trail behind it. "Someone is dying," murmured the little girl, as she remembered her beloved Granny who used to say: "When a star falls, a heart stops beating!"
Scarcely aware of what she was doing, the little match seller lit another match. This time, she saw her grandmother.
"Granny, stay with me!" she pleaded, as she lit one match after the other, so that her grandmother could not disappear like all the other visions. However, Granny did not vanish, but gazed smilingly at her. Then she opened her arms and the little girl hugged her crying: "Granny, take me away with you!"
A cold day dawned and a pale sun shone on the fountain and the icy road. Close by lay the lifeless body of a little girl surrounded by spent matches. "Poor little thing!" exclaimed the passers-by. "She was trying to keep warm!"
But by that time, the little match seller was far away where there is neither cold, hunger nor pain.
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