安徒生童话故事第21篇：玫瑰花精The Elf of the Rose
引导语：安徒生的童话玫瑰花精大家知道?是否阅读学习过?下面是小编收集的中英文版本，欢迎大家阅读!
花园中央有一个玫瑰花丛，开满了玫瑰花。这些花中有一朵最美丽，它里面住着一个花精。他的身体非常细小，人类的眼睛简直没有办法看得见他。每一片玫瑰花瓣的后面都有一个他的睡床。像任何最漂亮的孩子一样，他的样子好看，而且可爱。他肩上长着一双翅膀，一直伸到脚底。他的房间才香哩!那些墙壁是多么透明和光亮啊!它们就是粉红的、细嫩的玫瑰花瓣。
他整天在温暖的太阳光中嬉戏。他一忽飞向这朵花，一忽又飞向那朵花;他在飞翔着的蝴蝶翅膀上跳舞;他计算一共要走多少步子，才能跑完一片菩提叶上的那些大路和小径——我们所谓的叶脉，在他看起来就是大路和小径。
天气变得非常冷，露水在下降，风儿在吹，这时最好的是回到家里去，他尽快赶路，但玫瑰花已经闭上了，他没有办法进去——连一朵开着的玫瑰花也没有了。可怜的小花精因此就非常害怕起来。他过去从来没有在外面宿过夜，他总是很甜蜜地睡在温暖的玫瑰花瓣后面。啊，这简直是要他的命啊!
他知道，在花园的另一端有一个花亭，上面长满了美丽的金银花。那些花很像画出来的兽角。他真想钻进一个角里去，一直睡到天明。
于是他就飞进去了。别作声!花亭里还有两个人呢——一个漂亮的年轻人和一个美丽的少女。他们紧挨在一起坐着;他们希望永远不要分开。他们彼此相爱，比最好的孩子爱自己的爸爸和妈妈还要强烈得多。
“但是我们不得不分开!”那个年轻人说，“你的哥哥不喜欢我们俩，所以他要我翻山过海，到一个遥远的地方去办一件差事。再会吧，我亲爱的新嫁娘——因为你不久就是我的新嫁娘了!”
他们互相接吻。这位年轻的姑娘哭了起来，同时送给他一朵玫瑰。但她在把这朵花交给他以前，先在上面吻了一下。她吻得那么诚恳、那么热烈，花儿就自动地张开了。那个小花精赶快飞进去，把他的头靠着那些柔嫩的、芬芳的墙壁。但他很清楚地听到他们说：“再会吧!再会吧!”他感觉到这朵花被贴到年轻人的心上——这颗心跳动得多么厉害啊!小小的花精怎样也睡不着，因为颗心跳得太厉害了。
但是这朵花没有在他的心上贴得太久，那个年轻人就把它取出来了。他一边走过阴暗的森林，一边吻着这朵玫瑰花。啊，他吻得那么勤，那么热烈，小小的花精在里面几乎要被挤死了。他隔着花瓣可以感觉到年轻人的嘴唇是多么灼热，这朵花开得多么大——好像是在中午最热的太阳光下一样。
这时来了另外一个人，一个阴险和毒辣的人。这人就是那个美丽姑娘的坏哥哥。他抽出一把又快又粗的刀子。当那个年轻人正在吻着玫瑰花的时候，他一刀把他刺死了;接着他把他的头砍下来，连他的身体一起埋在菩提树底下的柔软的土里。
“现在他完蛋了，被人忘掉了，”这个恶毒的哥哥想。“他再也回不来了，他的任务是翻过海，作一次长途的旅行。这很容易使他丧失生命，而他现在也就真的丧命了。他再也回不来了，我的妹妹是不敢向我问他的消息的。”
他用脚踢了些干叶子到新挖的土上去，然后就在黑夜中回到家里来。但是与他的想象相反，他并不是一个人独自回来的，那个小小的花精在跟着他，他坐在一片卷起的干菩提树叶里。当坏人正在挖墓的时候，这片叶子恰巧落到了他的头发上，现在他戴上了帽子，帽子里非常黑暗。花精害怕得发抖，同时对这种丑恶的行为却又感到很生气。
坏人在天亮的'时候回到家里来了。他取下帽子，径直走到他妹妹的房间里去。这位像盛开的花朵一般美丽的姑娘正在睡觉，正在梦着她心爱的人儿——她还以为他在翻山走过树林呢。恶毒的哥哥弯下腰来看着她，发出一个丑恶的、只有恶魔才能发出的笑声。这时他头上那片干枯的叶子落到被单上去了，但是他却没有注意到。他走了出来，打算在清晨睡一小觉。
但花精却从干枯的叶子上溜出来，走到正在熟睡的姑娘的耳朵里去。像在梦中一样，他把这个可怕的谋杀事件告诉了她，并把她哥哥刺死他和埋葬他的地方也讲了出来。他还把坟旁那棵开花的菩提树也讲给她听。他说：
“千万不要以为我对你讲的话只是一个梦，你可以在你的床上找到一片干叶子作证。”
她找到了这片叶子，她醒了。
唉，她流了多少痛苦的眼泪啊!没有一个人可以倾听她的悲愁。窗子整天是开着的。小小的花精可以很容易地飞出去，飞到玫瑰花和一切别的花儿中去;但是他不忍心离开这个痛苦的姑娘。窗子上放着一盆月季花，他就坐在上面的一朵花上，经常望着这个可怜的姑娘。她的哥哥到她房间里来过好几次。他非常高兴，同时又很恶毒;她心里的痛苦，一个字也不敢告诉他。
黑夜一到，她就偷偷地离开屋子，走到树林中去。她走到菩提树所在的地方，扫掉地上的叶子，把土挖开。她立刻就看到被人谋害了的他。啊，她哭得多么伤心啊!她祈求上帝，希望自己也很快地死去。
她很想把尸体搬回家，但是她不敢这样做，她把那个眼睛闭着的、灰白的头颅拿起来，在他冰冷的嘴上亲了一下，然后把他美丽的头发上的土抖掉。“我要把它保存起来!”她说。当她用土和叶子把死尸埋好后，就把这颗头带回家来。在树林中埋葬着他的地方有一棵盛开的素馨花;她摘下一根枝子，带回家里来。
她一回到自己的房里，就去找来一个最大的花盆。她把死者的头颅放在里面，盖上土，然后栽上这根素馨花的枝子。
“再会吧!再会吧!”小小的花精低声说。这种悲哀他再也看不下去了;因此就飞进花园，飞到他自己的玫瑰花那儿去。但是玫瑰花儿已经凋谢了，只剩下几片枯萎的叶子，还在那绿色的枝子上垂着。
“哎，美好的东西消逝得多么快啊!”花精叹了一口气。
他终于找到了另一朵玫瑰，这成了他的家。在它柔嫩芬芳的花瓣后面，他可以休息和居住下去。
每天早晨，他向可怜的姑娘的窗子飞去。她老是站在花盆前面，流着眼泪。她的痛苦的泪珠滴到素馨花的花枝上。她一天比一天憔悴，但是这枝子却长得越来越绿，越来越新鲜;它冒出许许多多嫩芽，放出白色的小小花苞。她吻着它们。她恶毒的哥哥骂她，问她是不是发了疯。他看不惯这样子，也不懂她为什么老是对着花盆流眼泪。
他当然不知道这里面有一对什么样的眼睛闭了，有一双什么样的红唇化作了泥土。她对着花盆垂下头。小小的玫瑰花精发现她就是这样睡去了，因此他就飞进她的耳朵，告诉她那天晚上在花亭里的情景、玫瑰花的香气和花精们的爱情。她做了一个非常甜蜜的梦，而她的生命也就在梦里消逝了。她死得非常安静，她到天上去了，跟她心爱的人在一起。
素馨花现在开出了大朵的白花，发出非常甜蜜的香气;它们现在只有用那种方式来哀哭死者了。
不过那个恶毒的哥哥把这棵盛开的美丽的花看了一眼，认为这是他的继承物，所以就把它拿走，放在他的卧室里，紧靠着床边，因为这花看起来实在叫人愉快，它的香气既甜蜜又清新。那个小小的花精也一块儿跟着进去了。他从这朵花飞到那朵花，因为每朵花里都住着一个灵魂。他将那个被谋害的年轻人——他的头颅已经变成了泥土下面的泥土——的事情讲了出来，把那个哥哥和那个可怜的妹妹的事情也讲了出来。
“这件事我们都知道!”花朵里的每一个灵魂说。“我们都知道!难道我们不是从这被害者的眼睛和嘴唇上生出来的么?我们都知道!我们都知道!”
于是他们用一种奇异的方式点着头。
玫瑰花精不懂，他们怎么能够这样毫不在乎。于是他飞向那些正在采蜜的蜜蜂，把那个恶毒的哥哥的事情告诉给他们。蜜蜂们把这事情转告给他们的皇后。于是她就下令，叫他们第二天早晨把那个谋杀犯刺死。
可是在第一天晚上——就是他妹妹死去的头一个晚上，当哥哥正睡在那盆芬芳的素馨花旁的床上的时候，每朵花忽然都开了。花的灵魂带着毒剑，从花里走出来——谁也看不见他们。他们先钻进他的耳朵，告诉他许多恶梦;然后飞到他的嘴唇上，用他们的毒剑刺着他的舌头。
“我们现在算是为死者报仇了!”他们说，接着就飞回到素馨花的白色花朵上去。
当睡房的窗子早晨打开来的时候，玫瑰花精和蜂后带着一大群蜜蜂飞进来，想要刺死他。
但是他已经死了。许多人站在床的周围;大家都说：“素馨花的香气把他醉死了!”
这时玫瑰花精才知道花儿报了仇，他把这件事告诉给蜂后，她带着整群的蜜蜂在花盆的周围嗡嗡地叫。它们怎么也驱不散。于是有一个人把这花盆搬走，这时有一只蜂儿就把他的手刺了一下，弄得花盆落到地上，跌成碎片。
大家看到了一个白色的头颅;于是他们都知道，躺在床上的死者就是一个杀人犯。
蜂后在空中嗡嗡地吟唱，她唱着花儿的复仇与玫瑰花精的复仇，同时说道，在最细嫩的花瓣后面住着一个人——一个能揭发罪恶和惩罚罪恶的人。
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.
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