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FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
A ROSE FROM HOMER'S GRAVE
by Hans Christian Andersen
ALL 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."
THE END
1872 年
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 的童话
罗斯从荷马的坟墓
由Hans Christian Andersen
东部的所有歌曲讲话夜莺的爱为
上升了在沈默starlight 夜。 飞过的诗人
serenades 芬芳花。
不是离Smyrna 很远的地方, 那里客商驾驶他的被装载
骆驼, 骄傲地成拱形他们长的脖子如同他们远航在之下
崇高杉木圣洁地面, 我看见了玫瑰树篱。
乌龟潜水飞行在高树的分支之中, 并且作为
光束落在她的翼, 他们闪耀了好象他们
珍珠母。 在上升灌木生长花, 美丽比
他们全部, 并且对她夜莺唱歌他的愁楚; 但上升了
保留沈默, 不是平衡dewdrop 位置象同情泪花在她
叶子。 最后她低下了她的头在石头堆, 并且说,
"休息这里最了不起的歌手在世界上; 在他的坟茔意志I
传播我的芬芳, 并且对此我将让我的叶子下落何时
风暴驱散他们。 他唱歌Troy 成为地球, 并且从那
地球I 反弹了。 I, 从荷马坟墓上升了, 上午太崇高
对绽放为夜莺。"然后夜莺被唱自己
死亡。 骆驼司机拜访, 以他的被装载的骆驼和他的黑色
奴隶; 他的小儿子发现了死的鸟, 并且埋没可爱
诗人在了不起的荷马的坟墓, 当玫瑰打颤了
风。
晚上来了, 并且玫瑰严密包裹了她叶子
圆她, 并且作梦: 并且这是她的梦想。
这是一整整的sunshiny 天; 陌生人人群画了在谁附近有
承担朝圣对荷马坟墓。 在陌生人之中是
一位minstrel 从北部, 家的云彩和精采
极光borealis 的光。 他采了玫瑰和安置了它
书, 并且运载它入世界的一遥远的部份, 他的
祖国。 玫瑰退了色充满哀情, 并且位置在叶子之间
书, 哪些他打开了在他自己的家, 说, "这上升了
从荷马坟墓。"
然后花醒了从她的梦想, 并且打颤在风。
露水下落下跌从叶子在歌手的坟墓。 太阳
上升了, 并且花开了花美丽。 天是
热, 并且她仍然是在她自己温暖的亚洲。 然后脚步
接近, 陌生人, 譬如玫瑰看见了在她的梦想, 来
由, 并且在他们之中是一位诗人从北部; 他采了玫瑰,
按了一个亲吻在她新鲜的嘴, 并且运载她对
云彩和北光的家。 象妈咪, 花
现在休息在他的"伊利亚特里,"并且, 和在她的梦想, 她听见他说,
如同他打开书, "这从荷马坟墓上升了。"
末端
这么多东西是要花钱地