安徒生童话故事第：乘邮车来的十二位旅客中英文版本

安徒生童话故事第105篇：乘邮车来的十二位旅客中英文版本

　　引导语：安徒生童话故事《乘邮车来的十二位旅客》主要讲了什么内容?下面是小编整理的中英文版本，欢迎大家阅读!

　　严霜，满天星斗，万籁无声。

　　砰!有人把一个旧罐子扔到门上。啪!啪!这是欢迎新年到来的枪声。这是除夕。钟正敲了十二下。

　　得——达——拉——拉!邮车到来了。这辆大邮车在城门口停了下来。它里面坐着十二个人，再也没有空地方了，所有的位子都占了。

　　“恭喜!恭喜!”屋子里的人说，因为大家正在祝贺新年。这时大家刚刚举起满杯的酒，打算为庆祝新年而干杯。

　　“祝你新年幸福和健康!”大家说。“祝你娶一个漂亮太太，赚很多的钱，什么伤心事儿和麻烦事儿都没有!”

　　是的，这就是大家的希望。大家互相碰着杯子。城门外停着邮车，里面坐着陌生的客人——十二位旅客。

　　这些人是谁呢?他们都带有护照和行李。的确，他们还带来送给你、送给我和送给镇上所有的人的礼物。这些陌生的客人是谁呢?他们来做什么呢?他们带来了什么呢?

　　“早安!”他们对城门口的哨兵说。

　　“早安!”哨兵回答说，因为钟已经敲了十二下。

　　“你叫什么名字?你干什么职业?”哨兵问第一个下车的人。

　　“请看护照上的字吧!”这人说。“我就是我!”他穿着熊皮大衣和皮靴子，样子倒很像一个了不起的人物。“许多人把希望寄托在我身上。明天来看我吧，我将送给你一个真正的新年礼物。我把银毫子和银元扔给大家，我甚至还开舞会——整整三十一个舞会。比这再多的夜晚我可腾不出来了。我的船已经被冰冻住了，不过我的办公室里还是温暖又舒适。我是一个生意人;我的名字叫‘一月’。我身边只携带着单据。”

　　接着第二个人下车了。他是一位快乐朋友，一个剧团的老板，化装跳舞会以及你所能想象得到的一切娱乐的主持人。他的行李是一个大桶。

　　“在狂欢节的时候，我可以从里面变出比猫儿还要好的东西来①，”他说。“我叫别人愉快，也叫自己愉快。在我的一家人中我的寿命最短。我只有二十八天!有时人们给我多加一天，不过这也没有什么了不起。乌啦!”

　　“请你不要大声喊，”哨兵说。

　　“我当然可以喊，”这人说。“我是狂欢节的王子，在‘二月’这个名义下到各地去旅行的。”

　　现在第三个人下车了。他简直是一个斋神②的缩影。他趾高气扬，因为他跟“40位骑士”有亲戚关系，他同时还是一个天气的预言家。不过这并不是一个肥差事，因此他非常赞成吃斋。他的扣子洞上插着一束紫罗兰，但是花朵儿都很小。

　　“‘三月’，走呀③!”第四个人在后面喊着，把他推了一下。“走呀!走呀!走到哨房里去呀。那里有混合酒吃!我已经闻到香味了!”

　　不过这不是事实，他只是愚弄他一下罢了④，因为这第四位旅客就是以愚弄人开始他的活动的。他的样子倒是蛮高兴的，不大做事情，老是放假。

　　“我随人的心情而变化，”他说，“今天下雨，明天出太阳。我替人干搬出搬进的工作。我是搬家代理人，也是一个做殡仪馆生意的人。我能哭，也能笑。我的箱子里装着许多夏天的衣服，不过现在把它们穿起也未免太傻了。我就是这个样子。我要打扮的时候，就穿起丝袜子，戴上皮手筒。”

　　这时有一位小姐从车里走出来。“我是‘五月小姐’!”她说。她穿着一身夏季衣服和一双套鞋。她的长袍是淡绿色的，头上戴着秋牡丹，身上发出麝香草的香气，弄得哨兵也不得不嗅一下。

　　“愿上帝祝福你!”她说——这就是她的敬礼。

　　她真是漂亮!她是一个歌唱家，但不是舞台上，而是山林里的歌唱家。她也不是市场上的歌唱家。不，她只在清新的绿树林里为自己的高兴而歌唱。她的皮包里装着克里斯仙·温得尔的《木刻》⑤——这简直像山毛榉树林;此外还装得有“李加尔特的小诗”⑥——这简直像麝香草。

　　“现在来了一位太太——一位年轻的太太!”坐在车里的人说。于是一位太太便走出来了;她是年轻而纤细、骄矜而美丽的。

　　人们一看就知道，她是“六月太太”，她生下来就是为了保护那“七个睡觉的人”⑦的。她选一年中最长的一天来开一个盛大的宴会，好使人们有足够的时间把许多不同的菜吃掉。她自己有一辆“包车”，但是她仍然跟大家一起坐在邮车里，因为她想借此表示她并非骄傲得瞧不起人。她可不是单独地在旅行，因为她的弟弟“七月”跟她在一道。

　　他是一个胖胖的年轻人，穿着一身夏天的衣服，戴着一顶巴拿马帽。他的行李带得不多，因为行李这东西在炎热的天气里是一种累赘。他只带着游泳帽和游泳裤——这不能算很多。

　　现在妈妈“八月太太”来了。她是一个水果批发商，拥有许多蓄鱼池，兼当地主。她穿着一条鼓鼓的裙子⑧。她很肥胖，但是活泼;她什么事都于，她甚至还亲手送啤酒给田里的工人喝。

　　“你必汗流满面才得糊口⑨。”她说，“因为《圣经》上是这样说的。事做完了以后，你们可以在绿树林中跳舞和举行一次庆祝丰收的宴会!”

　　她是一个细致周到的主妇。

　　现在有一个男子走出来了。他是一个画师——一个色彩专家，树林是知道这情况的。叶子全都要改变颜色，而且只要他愿意，可以变得非常美丽。树林很快就染上了红色、黄色和棕色。这位画家吹起口哨来很像一只黑色的燕八哥。他工作的速度非常快。他把紫绿色的啤酒花⑩的蔓藤缠在啤酒杯上，使它显得非常好看——的确，他有审美的眼光。他现在拿着的颜料罐就是他的全部行李。

　　他后面接着来的是一个“拥有田产的人”。这人只是关心粮食的收获和土地的耕作;他对于野外打猎也有一点兴趣。他有猎狗和枪，他的猎袋里还有许多硬壳果。咕碌——咕碌!他带的东西真多——他甚至还有一架英国犁。他谈着种田的事情，但是人们听不清他的话，因为旁边有一个人在咳嗽和喘气——“十一月”已经来了。

　　这人得了伤风病——伤风得厉害，因此手帕不够用，他只好用一张床单。虽然如此，他说他还得陪着女佣人做冬天的活计。他说，他一出去砍柴，他的伤风就会好了。他必须去锯木头和劈木头，因为他是木柴公会的第一把锯手。他利用晚上的时间来雕冰鞋的木底，因为他知道，几个星期以后大家需要这种有趣的鞋子。

　　现在最后的一个客人来了。她是“火钵老妈妈”。她很冷，她的眼睛射出的光辉像两颗明亮的星星。她拿着栽有一株小枫树的花盆。

　　“我要保护和疼爱这棵树，好使它到圣诞节的时候能够长大，能够从地上伸到天花板，点着明亮的蜡烛，挂着金黄苹果和剪纸。火钵像炉子似地发出暖气，我从衣袋里拿出一本童话，高声朗诵，好叫房间里的孩子们都安静下来。不过树上的玩偶都变得非常活跃。树顶上的一个蜡制的小安琪儿，拍着他的金翅膀，从绿枝上飞下来，把房里大大小小的孩子都吻了一下，甚至把外面的穷孩子也吻了。这些穷孩子正在唱着关于“伯利恒的星”的圣诞颂歌。

　　“现在车子可以开了，”哨兵说。“我们已经弄清楚了这十二位旅客。让另一辆马车开出来吧。”

　　“先让这十二位进去吧，”值班的大尉说。“一次进去一位!护照留给我。每一本护照的有效期间是一个月。这段时间过去以后，我将在每一本护照上把他们的行为记下来。请吧，‘一月’先生，请你进去。”

　　于是他走进去了。

　　等到一年以后，我将告诉你这十二位先生带了些什么东西给你，给我，给大家。我现在还不知道，可能他们自己也不知道——因为我们是活在一个奇怪的时代里。

　　①丹麦古时有一种游戏，即把一只猫儿关在一个桶里，然后用绳子把桶悬在树上。大家敲着桶，待桶敲破时猫儿就变出来了。

　　②斋戒是基督教中的一种仪式，经常在复活节，也就是三月间举行。斋戒时期一共是40天。这四十天在丹麦的传说中名为“四十位骑士日”。

　　③这是一个文字游戏。Marts(三月)和Marsch(开步走)这个字的读音差不多，但意义完全不同。

　　④因为4月1日是“愚人节”。

　　⑤《木刻》(Traesnit)是丹麦19世纪一个抒情诗人克里斯仙·温得尔(Christian Winther，1796-1876)的一部诗集的名称。

　　⑥李加尔特(Christian Ernst Richardt，1831-1892)是另一位丹麦十九世纪的诗人。

　　⑦根据一个民间传说，在纪元251年6月27日七个基督徒被异教徒所追逐，他们逃到一个石洞里去，在那里睡到纪元446年才醒。所以6月27日就成为“七个睡觉人”的纪念日。

　　⑧原文Storecrinoline，这是十九世纪初欧洲流行的一种裙子;它里面衬有一个箍，使裙子向四周撒开。

　　⑨这句话是引自《圣经·旧约·创世纪》第三章第十九节。

　　⑩啤酒花是一种豆科植物，为制造啤酒的原料。

　　《乘邮车来的十二位旅客》英文版：

　　The Mail-Coach Passengers

　　IT was bitterly cold, the sky glittered with stars, and not a breeze stirred. “Bump”—an old pot was thrown at a neighbor’s door; and “bang, bang,” went the guns; for they were greeting the New Year. It was New Year’s Eve, and the church clock was striking twelve. “Tan-ta-ra-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,” sounded the horn, and the mail-coach came lumbering up. The clumsy vehicle stopped at the gate of the town; all the places had been taken, for there were twelve passengers in the coach.

　　“Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the people in the town; for in every house the New Year was being welcomed; and as the clock struck, they stood up, the full glasses in their hands, to drink success to the new comer. “A happy New Year,” was the cry; “a pretty wife, plenty of money, and no sorrow or care.”

　　The wish passed round, and the glasses clashed together till they rang again; while before the town-gate the mail coach stopped with the twelve strange passengers. And who were these strangers? Each of them had his passport and his luggage with him; they even brought presents for me, and for you, and for all the people in the town. “Who were they? what did they want? and what did they bring with them?”

　　“Good-morning,” they cried to the sentry at the town-gate.

　　“Good-morning,” replied the sentry; for the clock had struck twelve. “Your name and profession?” asked the sentry of the one who alighted first from the carriage.

　　“See for yourself in the passport,” he replied. “I am myself;” and a famous fellow he looked, arrayed in bear-skin and fur boots. “I am the man on whom many persons fix their hopes. Come to me to-morrow, and I’ll give you a New Year’s present. I throw shillings and pence among the people; I give balls, no less than thirty-one; indeed, that is the highest number I can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices it is warm and comfortable. My name is JANUARY. I’m a merchant, and I generally bring my accounts with me.”

　　Then the second alighted. He seemed a merry fellow. He was a director of a theatre, a manager of masked balls, and a leader of all the amusements we can imagine. His luggage consisted of a great cask.

　　“We’ll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival time,” said he; “I’ll prepare a merry tune for you and for myself too. Unfortunately I have not long to live—the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family—only twenty-eight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble myself very little about that. Hurrah!”

　　“You must not shout so,” said the sentry.

　　“Certainly I may shout,” retorted the man; “I’m Prince Carnival, travelling under the name of FEBRUARY.”

　　The third now got out. He looked a personification of fasting; but he carried his nose very high, for he was related to the “forty (k)nights,” and was a weather prophet. But that is not a very lucrative office, and therefore he praised fasting. In his button-hole he carried a little bunch of violets, but they were very small.

　　“MARCH, March,” the fourth called after him, slapping him on the shoulder, “don’t you smell something? Make haste into the guard room; they’re drinking punch there; that’s your favorite drink. I can smell it out here already. Forward, Master March.” But it was not true; the speaker only wanted to remind him of his name, and to make an APRIL fool of him; for with that fun the fourth generally began his career. He looked very jovial, did little work, and had the more holidays. “If the world were only a little more settled,” said he: “but sometimes I’m obliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, now sunshine. I’m kind of a house agent,1 also a manager of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now. Here I am. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings, and a muff.”

　　After him, a lady stepped out of the coach. She called herself Miss MAY. She wore a summer dress and overshoes; her dress was a light green, and she wore anemones in her hair. She was so scented with wild-thyme, that it made the sentry sneeze.

　　“Your health, and God bless you,” was her salutation to him.

　　How pretty she was! and such a singer! not a theatre singer, nor a ballad singer; no, but a singer of the woods; for she wandered through the gay green forest, and had a concert there for her own amusement.

　　“Now comes the young lady,” said those in the carriage; and out stepped a young dame, delicate, proud, and pretty. It was Mistress JUNE, in whose service people become lazy and fond of sleeping for hours. She gives a feast on the longest day of the year, that there may be time for her guests to partake of the numerous dishes at her table. Indeed, she keeps her own carriage; but still she travelled by the mail, with the rest, because she wished to show that she was not high-minded. But she was not without a protector; her younger brother, JULY, was with her. He was a plump young fellow, clad in summer garments and wearing a straw hat. He had but very little luggage with him, because it was so cumbersome in the great heat; he had, however, swimming-trousers with him, which are nothing to carry. Then came the mother herself, in crinoline, Madame AUGUST, a wholesale dealer in fruit, proprietress of a large number of fish ponds and a land cultivator. She was fat and heated, yet she could use her hands well, and would herself carry out beer to the laborers in the field. “In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread,” said she; “it is written in the Bible.” After work, came the recreations, dancing and playing in the greenwood, and the “harvest homes.” She was a thorough housewife.

　　After her a man came out of the coach, who is a painter; he is the great master of colors, and is named SEPTEMBER. The forest, on his arrival, had to change its colors when he wished it; and how beautiful are the colors he chooses! The woods glow with hues of red and gold and brown. This great master painter could whistle like a blackbird. He was quick in his work, and soon entwined the tendrils of the hop plant around his beer jug. This was an ornament to the jug, and he has a great love for ornament. There he stood with his color pot in his hand, and that was the whole of his luggage. A land-owner followed, who in the month for sowing seed attended to the ploughing and was fond of field sports. Squire OCTOBER brought his dog and his gun with him, and had nuts in his game bag. “Crack, crack.” He had a great deal of luggage, even an English plough. He spoke of farming, but what he said could scarcely be heard for the coughing and gasping of his neighbor. It was NOVEMBER, who coughed violently as he got out. He had a cold, which caused him to use his pocket-handkerchief continually; and yet he said he was obliged to accompany servant girls to their new places, and initiate them into their winter service. He said he thought his cold would never leave him when he went out woodcutting, for he was a master sawyer, and had to supply wood to the whole parish. He spent his evenings preparing wooden soles for skates, for he knew, he said, that in a few weeks these shoes would be wanted for the amusement of skating. At length the last passenger made her appearance,—old Mother DECEMBER, with her fire-stool. The dame was very old, but her eyes glistened like two stars. She carried on her arm a flower-pot, in which a little fir-tree was growing. “This tree I shall guard and cherish,” she said, “that it may grow large by Christmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be covered and adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures. The fire-stool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring a story book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children in the room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree will become lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out his wings of gold-leaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss every one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor children who stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol about the ‘Star of Bethlehem.’”

　　“Well, now the coach may drive away,” said the sentry; “we have the whole twelve. Let the horses be put up.”

　　“First, let all the twelve come to me,” said the captain on duty, “one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of them is available for one month; when that has passed, I shall write the behavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness to come here.” And Mr. January stepped forward.

　　When a year has passed, I think I shall be able to tell you what the twelve passengers have brought to you, to me, and to all of us. Now I do not know, and probably even they don’t know themselves, for we live in strange times.