愛薇塔樂學英文

安徒生童话：A Rose from Homer’s Grave荷馬墓上的玫瑰

LL the songs of the east speak of the love of the nightingale for the rose in the silent starlight night. The winged songster serenades the fragrant flowers.

Not far from Smyrna, where the merchant drives his loaded camels, proudly arching their long necks as they journey beneath the lofty pines over holy ground, I saw a hedge of roses. The turtle-dove flew among the branches of the tall trees, and as the sunbeams fell upon her wings, they glistened as if they were mother-of-pearl. On the rose-bush grew a flower, more beautiful than them all, and to her the nightingale sung of his woes; but the rose remained silent, not even a dewdrop lay like a tear of sympathy on her leaves. At last she bowed her head over a heap of stones, and said, “Here rests the greatest singer in the world; over his tomb will I spread my fragrance, and on it I will let my leaves fall when the storm scatters them. He who sung of Troy became earth, and from that earth I have sprung. I, a rose from the grave of Homer, am too lofty to bloom for a nightingale.” Then the nightingale sung himself to death. A camel-driver came by, with his loaded camels and his black slaves; his little son found the dead bird, and buried the lovely songster in the grave of the great Homer, while the rose trembled in the wind.

The evening came, and the rose wrapped her leaves more closely round her, and dreamed: and this was her dream.

It was a fair sunshiny day; a crowd of strangers drew near who had undertaken a pilgrimage to the grave of Homer. Among the strangers was a minstrel from the north, the home of the clouds and the brilliant lights of the aurora borealis. He plucked the rose and placed it in a book, and carried it away into a distant part of the world, his fatherland. The rose faded with grief, and lay between the leaves of the book, which he opened in his own home, saying, “Here is a rose from the grave of Homer.”

Then the flower awoke from her dream, and trembled in the wind. A drop of dew fell from the leaves upon the singer’s grave. The sun rose, and the flower bloomed more beautiful than ever. The day was hot, and she was still in her own warm Asia. Then footsteps approached, strangers, such as the rose had seen in her dream, came by, and among them was a poet from the north; he plucked the rose, pressed a kiss upon her fresh mouth, and carried her away to the home of the clouds and the northern lights. Like a mummy, the flower now rests in his “Iliad,” and, as in her dream, she hears him say, as he opens the book, “Here is a rose from the grave of Homer.”

LL東部說話夜鶯對玫瑰花在無聲星光夜的愛的歌曲。有翼的歌手小夜曲的香花。

不遠處的士麥那，那裡的商人開著他裝的駱駝，得意地拱起它們的長脖子是崇高的松樹在聖地之下，他們的旅程，我看到玫瑰的對沖。該斑鳩飛到高高的樹枝之間，並且隨​​著陽光落在她的翅膀，他們閃閃發光，好像他們是珍珠母的。在玫瑰灌木生長的花，比他們都更美麗，和她唱他的愁楚的夜鶯; 但是這朵玫瑰一句話，甚至沒有一個露珠像躺在同情的眼淚在她的葉子。最後，低下頭在一堆石頭，說：“這裡掌握在世界上最偉大的歌手; 在他的墳墓將我張開的香味，並在其上我將讓我的葉秋當風暴驅散他們。他唱誰特洛伊成了地球，並從地球我如雨後春筍般湧現。我，從荷馬的墓上的玫瑰，我太崇高綻放的夜鶯。“於是夜鶯就一直歌唱到死。駱駝司機走過來，用他裝駱駝和他的黑人奴隸; 他的小兒子看到了這只死鳥，並埋到偉大的荷馬的墓裡。歌手，而玫瑰在風中顫抖。

晚上來了，玫瑰更緊密地包裹著她的葉子圍著她，並夢想：這是她的夢想。

這是一個公平的陽光照耀一天; 一大群陌生人走近誰曾承諾朝聖荷馬墓。在這些陌生人是來自北方的吟遊詩人，雲的故鄉和北極光的絢麗燈光。他摘下這朵玫瑰，把它夾在一本書，並把它帶到世界的一個遙遠的地方，他的祖國。玫瑰褪色的悲傷，這本書，這是他在他自己的家裡開了，說，葉之間外行“這是荷馬墓上的一朵玫瑰。”

然後，花從她的夢中醒來，並在風中發抖。一滴露水後歌手的墳墓從樹葉下跌。太陽升起來了，花也開得比以前更美麗。那天天氣很熱，她仍然在她自己的溫暖的亞洲。接著腳步聲走近，陌生人，如玫瑰花在夢裡所見到的身邊走過，在他們之中是來自北方的詩人; 他摘下這朵玫瑰，在它新鮮的嘴吻，並把它帶到了雲的故鄉和北極光。就像一個木乃伊，花現在躺在他的“依里亞特”，在她的夢想，她聽到他這麼說，因為他打開這本書，“這是荷馬墓上的一朵玫瑰。”