安徒生童話故事第21篇：玫瑰花精The Elf of the Rose
引導語：安徒生的童話玫瑰花精大家知道?是否閱讀學習過?下面是小編收集的中英文版本，歡迎大家閱讀!
花園中央有一個玫瑰花叢，開滿了玫瑰花。這些花中有一朵最美麗，它裡面住著一個花精。他的身體非常細小，人類的眼睛簡直沒有辦法看得見他。每一片玫瑰花瓣的後面都有一個他的睡床。像任何最漂亮的孩子一樣，他的樣子好看，而且可愛。他肩上長著一雙翅膀，一直伸到腳底。他的房間才香哩!那些牆壁是多麼透明和光亮啊!它們就是粉紅的、細嫩的玫瑰花瓣。
他整天在溫暖的太陽光中嬉戲。他一忽飛向這朵花，一忽又飛向那朵花;他在飛翔著的蝴蝶翅膀上跳舞;他計算一共要走多少步子，才能跑完一片菩提葉上的那些大路和小徑——我們所謂的葉脈，在他看起來就是大路和小徑。
天氣變得非常冷，露水在下降，風兒在吹，這時最好的是回到家裡去，他儘快趕路，但玫瑰花已經閉上了，他沒有辦法進去——連一朵開著的玫瑰花也沒有了。可憐的小花精因此就非常害怕起來。他過去從來沒有在外面宿過夜，他總是很甜蜜地睡在溫暖的玫瑰花瓣後面。啊，這簡直是要他的命啊!
他知道，在花園的另一端有一個花亭，上面長滿了美麗的金銀花。那些花很像畫出來的獸角。他真想鑽進一個角里去，一直睡到天明。
於是他就飛進去了。別作聲!花亭裡還有兩個人呢——一個漂亮的年輕人和一個美麗的少女。他們緊挨在一起坐著;他們希望永遠不要分開。他們彼此相愛，比最好的孩子愛自己的爸爸和媽媽還要強烈得多。
“但是我們不得不分開!”那個年輕人說，“你的哥哥不喜歡我們倆，所以他要我翻山過海，到一個遙遠的地方去辦一件差事。再會吧，我親愛的新嫁娘——因為你不久就是我的新嫁娘了!”
他們互相接吻。這位年輕的姑娘哭了起來，同時送給他一朵玫瑰。但她在把這朵花交給他以前，先在上面吻了一下。她吻得那麼誠懇、那麼熱烈，花兒就自動地張開了。那個小花精趕快飛進去，把他的頭靠著那些柔嫩的、芬芳的牆壁。但他很清楚地聽到他們說：“再會吧!再會吧!”他感覺到這朵花被貼到年輕人的心上——這顆心跳動得多麼厲害啊!小小的花精怎樣也睡不著，因為顆心跳得太厲害了。
但是這朵花沒有在他的心上貼得太久，那個年輕人就把它取出來了。他一邊走過陰暗的森林，一邊吻著這朵玫瑰花。啊，他吻得那麼勤，那麼熱烈，小小的花精在裡面幾乎要被擠死了。他隔著花瓣可以感覺到年輕人的嘴脣是多麼灼熱，這朵花開得多麼大——好像是在中午最熱的太陽光下一樣。
這時來了另外一個人，一個陰險和毒辣的人。這人就是那個美麗姑娘的壞哥哥。他抽出一把又快又粗的刀子。當那個年輕人正在吻著玫瑰花的時候，他一刀把他刺死了;接著他把他的頭砍下來，連他的身體一起埋在菩提樹底下的柔軟的土裡。
“現在他完蛋了，被人忘掉了，”這個惡毒的哥哥想。“他再也回不來了，他的任務是翻過海，作一次長途的旅行。這很容易使他喪失生命，而他現在也就真的喪命了。他再也回不來了，我的妹妹是不敢向我問他的訊息的。”
他用腳踢了些幹葉子到新挖的土上去，然後就在黑夜中回到家裡來。但是與他的想象相反，他並不是一個人獨自回來的，那個小小的花精在跟著他，他坐在一片捲起的幹菩提樹葉裡。當壞人正在挖墓的時候，這片葉子恰巧落到了他的頭髮上，現在他戴上了帽子，帽子裡非常黑暗。花精害怕得發抖，同時對這種醜惡的行為卻又感到很生氣。
壞人在天亮的'時候回到家裡來了。他取下帽子，徑直走到他妹妹的房間裡去。這位像盛開的花朵一般美麗的姑娘正在睡覺，正在夢著她心愛的人兒——她還以為他在翻山走過樹林呢。惡毒的哥哥彎下腰來看著她，發出一個醜惡的、只有惡魔才能發出的笑聲。這時他頭上那片乾枯的葉子落到被單上去了，但是他卻沒有注意到。他走了出來，打算在清晨睡一小覺。
但花精卻從乾枯的葉子上溜出來，走到正在熟睡的姑娘的耳朵裡去。像在夢中一樣，他把這個可怕的謀殺事件告訴了她，並把她哥哥刺死他和埋葬他的地方也講了出來。他還把墳旁那棵開花的菩提樹也講給她聽。他說：
“千萬不要以為我對你講的話只是一個夢，你可以在你的床上找到一片幹葉子作證。”
她找到了這片葉子，她醒了。
唉，她流了多少痛苦的眼淚啊!沒有一個人可以傾聽她的悲愁。窗子整天是開著的。小小的花精可以很容易地飛出去，飛到玫瑰花和一切別的花兒中去;但是他不忍心離開這個痛苦的姑娘。窗子上放著一盆月季花，他就坐在上面的一朵花上，經常望著這個可憐的姑娘。她的哥哥到她房間裡來過好幾次。他非常高興，同時又很惡毒;她心裡的痛苦，一個字也不敢告訴他。
黑夜一到，她就偷偷地離開屋子，走到樹林中去。她走到菩提樹所在的地方，掃掉地上的葉子，把土挖開。她立刻就看到被人謀害了的他。啊，她哭得多麼傷心啊!她祈求上帝，希望自己也很快地死去。
她很想把屍體搬回家，但是她不敢這樣做，她把那個眼睛閉著的、灰白的頭顱拿起來，在他冰冷的嘴上親了一下，然後把他美麗的頭髮上的土抖掉。“我要把它儲存起來!”她說。當她用土和葉子把死屍埋好後，就把這顆頭帶回家來。在樹林中埋葬著他的地方有一棵盛開的素馨花;她摘下一根枝子，帶回家裡來。
她一回到自己的房裡，就去找來一個最大的花盆。她把死者的頭顱放在裡面，蓋上土，然後栽上這根素馨花的枝子。
“再會吧!再會吧!”小小的花精低聲說。這種悲哀他再也看不下去了;因此就飛進花園，飛到他自己的玫瑰花那兒去。但是玫瑰花兒已經凋謝了，只剩下幾片枯萎的葉子，還在那綠色的枝子上垂著。
“哎，美好的東西消逝得多麼快啊!”花精嘆了一口氣。
他終於找到了另一朵玫瑰，這成了他的家。在它柔嫩芬芳的花瓣後面，他可以休息和居住下去。
每天早晨，他向可憐的姑娘的窗子飛去。她老是站在花盆前面，流著眼淚。她的痛苦的淚珠滴到素馨花的花枝上。她一天比一天憔悴，但是這枝子卻長得越來越綠，越來越新鮮;它冒出許許多多嫩芽，放出白色的小小花苞。她吻著它們。她惡毒的哥哥罵她，問她是不是發了瘋。他看不慣這樣子，也不懂她為什麼老是對著花盆流眼淚。
他當然不知道這裡面有一對什麼樣的眼睛閉了，有一雙什麼樣的紅脣化作了泥土。她對著花盆垂下頭。小小的玫瑰花精發現她就是這樣睡去了，因此他就飛進她的耳朵，告訴她那天晚上在花亭裡的情景、玫瑰花的香氣和花精們的愛情。她做了一個非常甜蜜的夢，而她的生命也就在夢裡消逝了。她死得非常安靜，她到天上去了，跟她心愛的人在一起。
素馨花現在開出了大朵的白花，發出非常甜蜜的香氣;它們現在只有用那種方式來哀哭死者了。
不過那個惡毒的哥哥把這棵盛開的美麗的花看了一眼，認為這是他的繼承物，所以就把它拿走，放在他的臥室裡，緊靠著床邊，因為這花看起來實在叫人愉快，它的香氣既甜蜜又清新。那個小小的花精也一塊兒跟著進去了。他從這朵花飛到那朵花，因為每朵花裡都住著一個靈魂。他將那個被謀害的年輕人——他的頭顱已經變成了泥土下面的泥土——的事情講了出來，把那個哥哥和那個可憐的妹妹的事情也講了出來。
“這件事我們都知道!”花朵裡的每一個靈魂說。“我們都知道!難道我們不是從這被害者的眼睛和嘴脣上生出來的麼?我們都知道!我們都知道!”
於是他們用一種奇異的方式點著頭。
玫瑰花精不懂，他們怎麼能夠這樣毫不在乎。於是他飛向那些正在採蜜的蜜蜂，把那個惡毒的哥哥的事情告訴給他們。蜜蜂們把這事情轉告給他們的皇后。於是她就下令，叫他們第二天早晨把那個謀殺犯刺死。
可是在第一天晚上——就是他妹妹死去的頭一個晚上，當哥哥正睡在那盆芬芳的素馨花旁的床上的時候，每朵花忽然都開了。花的靈魂帶著毒劍，從花裡走出來——誰也看不見他們。他們先鑽進他的耳朵，告訴他許多惡夢;然後飛到他的嘴脣上，用他們的毒劍刺著他的舌頭。
“我們現在算是為死者報仇了!”他們說，接著就飛回到素馨花的白色花朵上去。
當睡房的窗子早晨開啟來的時候，玫瑰花精和蜂后帶著一大群蜜蜂飛進來，想要刺死他。
但是他已經死了。許多人站在床的周圍;大家都說：“素馨花的香氣把他醉死了!”
這時玫瑰花精才知道花兒報了仇，他把這件事告訴給蜂后，她帶著整群的蜜蜂在花盆的周圍嗡嗡地叫。它們怎麼也驅不散。於是有一個人把這花盆搬走，這時有一隻蜂兒就把他的手刺了一下，弄得花盆落到地上，跌成碎片。
大家看到了一個白色的頭顱;於是他們都知道，躺在床上的死者就是一個殺人犯。
蜂后在空中嗡嗡地吟唱，她唱著花兒的復仇與玫瑰花精的復仇，同時說道，在最細嫩的花瓣後面住著一個人——一個能揭發罪惡和懲罰罪惡的人。
玫瑰花精英文版：
The Elf of the Rose
IN the midst of a garden grew a rose-tree, in full blossom, and in the prettiest of all the roses lived an elf. He was such a little wee thing, that no human eye could see him. Behind each leaf of the rose he had a sleeping chamber. He was as well formed and as beautiful as a little child could be, and had wings that reached from his shoulders to his feet. Oh, what sweet fragrance there was in his chambers! and how clean and beautiful were the walls! for they were the blushing leaves of the rose.
During the whole day he enjoyed himself in the warm sunshine, flew from flower to flower, and danced on the wings of the flying butterflies. Then he took it into his head to measure how many steps he would have to go through the roads and cross-roads that are on the leaf of a linden-tree. What we call the veins on a leaf, he took for roads; ay, and very long roads they were for him; for before he had half finished his task, the sun went down: he had commenced his work too late. It became very cold, the dew fell, and the wind blew; so he thought the best thing he could do would be to return home. He hurried himself as much as he could; but he found the roses all closed up, and he could not get in; not a single rose stood open. The poor little elf was very much frightened. He had never before been out at night, but had always slumbered secretly behind the warm rose-leaves. Oh, this would certainly be his death. At the other end of the garden, he knew there was an arbor, overgrown with beautiful honey-suckles. The blossoms looked like large painted horns; and he thought to himself, he would go and sleep in one of these till the morning. He flew thither; but “hush!” two people were in the arbor,—a handsome young man and a beautiful lady. They sat side by side, and wished that they might never be obliged to part. They loved each other much more than the best child can love its father and mother.
“But we must part,” said the young man; “your brother does not like our engagement, and therefore he sends me so far away on business, over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet bride; for so you are to me.”
And then they kissed each other, and the girl wept, and gave him a rose; but before she did so, she pressed a kiss upon it so fervently that the flower opened. Then the little elf flew in, and leaned his head on the delicate, fragrant walls. Here he could plainly hear them say, “Farewell, farewell;” and he felt that the rose had been placed on the young man’s breast. Oh, how his heart did beat! The little elf could not go to sleep, it thumped so loudly. The young man took it out as he walked through the dark wood alone, and kissed the flower so often and so violently, that the little elf was almost crushed. He could feel through the leaf how hot the lips of the young man were, and the rose had opened, as if from the heat of the noonday sun.
There came another man, who looked gloomy and wicked. He was the wicked brother of the beautiful maiden. He drew out a sharp knife, and while the other was kissing the rose, the wicked man stabbed him to death; then he cut off his head, and buried it with the body in the soft earth under the linden-tree.
“Now he is gone, and will soon be forgotten,” thought the wicked brother; “he will never come back again. He was going on a long journey over mountains and seas; it is easy for a man to lose his life in such a journey. My sister will suppose he is dead; for he cannot come back, and she will not dare to question me about him.”
Then he scattered the dry leaves over the light earth with his foot, and went home through the darkness; but he went not alone, as he thought,—the little elf accompanied him. He sat in a dry rolled-up linden-leaf, which had fallen from the tree on to the wicked man’s head, as he was digging the grave. The hat was on the head now, which made it very dark, and the little elf shuddered with fright and indignation at the wicked deed.
It was the dawn of morning before the wicked man reached home; he took off his hat, and went into his sister’s room. There lay the beautiful, blooming girl, dreaming of him whom she loved so, and who was now, she supposed, travelling far away over mountain and sea. Her wicked brother stopped over her, and laughed hideously, as fiends only can laugh. The dry leaf fell out of his hair upon the counterpane; but he did not notice it, and went to get a little sleep during the early morning hours. But the elf slipped out of the withered leaf, placed himself by the ear of the sleeping girl, and told her, as in a dream, of the horrid murder; described the place where her brother had slain her lover, and buried his body; and told her of the linden-tree, in full blossom, that stood close by.
“That you may not think this is only a dream that I have told you,” he said, “you will find on your bed a withered leaf.”
Then she awoke, and found it there. Oh, what bitter tears she shed! and she could not open her heart to any one for relief.
The window stood open the whole day, and the little elf could easily have reached the roses, or any of the flowers; but he could not find it in his heart to leave one so afflicted. In the window stood a bush bearing monthly roses. He seated himself in one of the flowers, and gazed on the poor girl. Her brother often came into the room, and would be quite cheerful, in spite of his base conduct; so she dare not say a word to him of her heart’s grief.
As soon as night came on, she slipped out of the house, and went into the wood, to the spot where the linden-tree stood; and after removing the leaves from the earth, she turned it up, and there found him who had been murdered. Oh, how she wept and prayed that she also might die! Gladly would she have taken the body home with her; but that was impossible; so she took up the poor head with the closed eyes, kissed the cold lips, and shook the mould out of the beautiful hair.
“I will keep this,” said she; and as soon as she had covered the body again with the earth and leaves, she took the head and a little sprig of jasmine that bloomed in the wood, near the spot where he was buried, and carried them home with her. As soon as she was in her room, she took the largest flower-pot she could find, and in this she placed the head of the dead man, covered it up with earth, and planted the twig of jasmine in it.
“Farewell, farewell,” whispered the little elf. He could not any longer endure to witness all this agony of grief, he therefore flew away to his own rose in the garden. But the rose was faded; only a few dry leaves still clung to the green hedge behind it.
“Alas! how soon all that is good and beautiful passes away,” sighed the elf.
After a while he found another rose, which became his home, for among its delicate fragrant leaves he could dwell in safety. Every morning he flew to the window of the poor girl, and always found her weeping by the flower pot. The bitter tears fell upon the jasmine twig, and each day, as she became paler and paler, the sprig appeared to grow greener and fresher. One shoot after another sprouted forth, and little white buds blossomed, which the poor girl fondly kissed. But her wicked brother scolded her, and asked her if she was going mad. He could not imagine why she was weeping over that flower-pot, and it annoyed him. He did not know whose closed eyes were there, nor what red lips were fading beneath the earth. And one day she sat and leaned her head against the flower-pot, and the little elf of the rose found her asleep. Then he seated himself by her ear, talked to her of that evening in the arbor, of the sweet perfume of the rose, and the loves of the elves. Sweetly she dreamed, and while she dreamt, her life passed away calmly and gently, and her spirit was with him whom she loved, in heaven. And the jasmine opened its large white bells, and spread forth its sweet fragrance; it had no other way of showing its grief for the dead. But the wicked brother considered the beautiful blooming plant as his own property, left to him by his sister, and he placed it in his sleeping room, close by his bed, for it was very lovely in appearance, and the fragrance sweet and delightful. The little elf of the rose followed it, and flew from flower to flower, telling each little spirit that dwelt in them the story of the murdered young man, whose head now formed part of the earth beneath them, and of the wicked brother and the poor sister. “We know it,” said each little spirit in the flowers, “we know it, for have we not sprung from the eyes and lips of the murdered one. We know it, we know it,” and the flowers nodded with their heads in a peculiar manner. The elf of the rose could not understand how they could rest so quietly in the matter, so he flew to the bees, who were gathering honey, and told them of the wicked brother. And the bees told it to their queen, who commanded that the next morning they should go and kill the murderer. But during the night, the first after the sister’s death, while the brother was sleeping in his bed, close to where he had placed the fragrant jasmine, every flower cup opened, and invisibly the little spirits stole out, armed with poisonous spears. They placed themselves by the ear of the sleeper, told him dreadful dreams and then flew across his lips, and pricked his tongue with their poisoned spears. “Now have we revenged the dead,” said they, and flew back into the white bells of the jasmine flowers. When the morning came, and as soon as the window was opened, the rose elf, with the queen bee, and the whole swarm of bees, rushed in to kill him. But he was already dead. People were standing round the bed, and saying that the scent of the jasmine had killed him. Then the elf of the rose understood the revenge of the flowers, and explained it to the queen bee, and she, with the whole swarm, buzzed about the flower-pot. The bees could not be driven away. Then a man took it up to remove it, and one of the bees stung him in the hand, so that he let the flower-pot fall, and it was broken to pieces. Then every one saw the whitened skull, and they knew the dead man in the bed was a murderer. And the queen bee hummed in the air, and sang of the revenge of the flowers, and of the elf of the rose and said that behind the smallest leaf dwells One, who can discover evil deeds, and punish them also.
