安徒生童话THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK.docx

安徒生童话THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK.docx

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安徒生童话THELASTDREAMOFTHEOLDOAK

1872

FAIRYTALESOFHANSCHRISTIANANDERSEN

THELASTDREAMOFTHEOLDOAK

byHansChristianAndersen

INtheforest,highuponthesteepshore,andnotfarfromthe

openseacoast,stoodaveryoldoak-tree.Itwasjustthreehundred

andsixty-fiveyearsold,butthatlongtimewastothetreeasthe

samenumberofdaysmightbetous;wewakebydayandsleepbynight,

andthenwehaveourdreams.Itisdifferentwiththetree;itis

obligedtokeepawakethroughthreeseasonsoftheyear,anddoes

notgetanysleeptillwintercomes.Winterisitstimeforrest;

itsnightafterthelongdayofspring,summer,andautumn.Onmany

awarmsummer,theEphemera,thefliesthatexistforonlyaday,

hadflutteredabouttheoldoak,enjoyedlifeandfelthappyandif,

foramoment,oneofthetinycreaturesrestedononeofhislarge

freshleaves,thetreewouldalwayssay,"Poorlittlecreature!

your

wholelifeconsistsonlyofasingleday.Howveryshort.Itmustbe

quitemelancholy."

"Melancholy!

whatdoyoumean?

"thelittlecreaturewouldalways

reply."Everythingaroundmeissowonderfullybrightandwarm,and

beautiful,thatitmakesmejoyous."

"Butonlyforoneday,andthenitisallover."

"Over!

"repeatedthefly;"whatisthemeaningofallover?

Are

youallovertoo?

"

"No;Ishallverylikelyliveforthousandsofyourdays,andmy

dayiswholeseasonslong;indeeditissolongthatyoucouldnever

reckonitout."

"No?

thenIdon'tunderstandyou.Youmayhavethousandsofmy

days,butIhavethousandsofmomentsinwhichIcanbemerryand

happy.Doesallthebeautyoftheworldceasewhenyoudie?

"

"No,"repliedthetree;"itwillcertainlylastmuchlonger,-

infinitelylongerthanIcaneventhinkof."Well,then,"saidthe

littlefly,"wehavethesametimetolive;onlywereckon

differently."Andthelittlecreaturedancedandfloatedintheair,

rejoicinginherdelicatewingsofgauzeandvelvet,rejoicingin

thebalmybreezes,ladenwiththefragranceofclover-fieldsand

wildroses,elder-blossomsandhoneysuckle,fromthegardenhedges,

wildthyme,primroses,andmint,andthescentofallthesewasso

strongthattheperfumealmostintoxicatedthelittlefly.Thelong

andbeautifuldayhadbeensofullofjoyandsweetdelights,that

whenthesunsanklowitfelttiredofallitshappinessand

enjoyment.Itswingscouldsustainitnolonger,andgentlyandslowly

itglideddownuponthesoftwavingbladesofgrass,noddeditslittle

headaswellasitcouldnod,andsleptpeacefullyandsweetly.The

flywasdead.

"PoorlittleEphemera!

"saidtheoak;"whataterriblyshort

life!

"Andso,oneverysummerdaythedancewasrepeated,thesame

questionsasked,andthesameanswersgiven.Thesamethingwas

continuedthroughmanygenerationsofEphemera;allofthemfelt

equallymerryandequallyhappy.

Theoakremainedawakethroughthemorningofspring,thenoon

ofsummer,andtheeveningofautumn;itstimeofrest,itsnightdrew

nigh-winterwascoming.Alreadythestormsweresinging,"Good-night,

good-night."Herefellaleafandtherefellaleaf."Wewillrockyou

andlullyou.Gotosleep,gotosleep.Wewillsingyoutosleep,and

shakeyoutosleep,anditwilldoyouroldtwigsgood;theywilleven

cracklewithpleasure.Sleepsweetly,sleepsweetly,itisyour

three-hundred-and-sixty-fifthnight.Correctlyspeaking,youarebuta

youngsterintheworld.Sleepsweetly,thecloudswilldropsnow

uponyou,whichwillbequiteacover-lid,warmandshelteringtoyour

feet.Sweetsleeptoyou,andpleasantdreams."Andtherestoodthe

oak,strippedofallitsleaves,lefttorestduringthewholeofa

longwinter,andtodreammanydreamsofeventsthathadhappenedin

itslife,asinthedreamsofmen.Thegreattreehadoncebeensmall;

indeed,initscradleithadbeenanacorn.Accordingtohuman

computation,itwasnowinthefourthcenturyofitsexistence.Itwas

thelargestandbesttreeintheforest.Itssummittoweredabove

alltheothertrees,andcouldbeseenfaroutatsea,sothatit

servedasalandmarktothesailors.Ithadnoideahowmanyeyes

lookedeagerlyforit.Initstopmostbranchesthewood-pigeonbuilt

hernest,andthecuckoocarriedouthisusualvocalperformances,and

hiswell-knownnotesechoedamidtheboughs;andinautumn,whenthe

leaveslookedlikebeatencopperplates,thebirdsofpassagewould

comeandrestuponthebranchesbeforetakingtheirflightacross

thesea.Butnowitwaswinter,thetreestoodleafless,sothatevery

onecouldseehowcrookedandbentwerethebranchesthatsprangforth

fromthetrunk.Crowsandrookscamebyturnsandsatonthem,and

talkedofthehardtimeswhichwerebeginning,andhowdifficultit

wasinwintertoobtainfood.

ItwasjustaboutholyChristmastimethatthetreedreameda

dream.Thetreehad,doubtless,akindoffeelingthatthefestive

timehadarrived,andinhisdreamfanciedheheardthebells

ringingfromallthechurchesround,andyetitseemedtohimtobe

abeautifulsummer'sday,mildandwarm.Hismightysummitswas

crownedwithspreadingfreshgreenfoliage;thesunbeamsplayed

amongtheleavesandbranches,andtheairwasfulloffragrance

fromherbandblossom;paintedbutterflieschasedeachother;the

summerfliesdancedaroundhim,asiftheworldhadbeencreated

merelyforthemtodanceandbemerryin.Allthathadhappenedtothe

treeduringeveryyearofhislifeseemedtopassbeforehim,asin

afestiveprocession.Hesawtheknightsofoldentimesandnoble

ladiesridebythroughthewoodontheirgallantsteeds,withplumes

wavingintheirhats,andfalconsontheirwrists.Thehuntinghorn

sounded,andthedogsbarked.Hesawhostilewarriors,incolored

dressesandglitteringarmor,withspearandhalberd,pitchingtheir

tents,andanonstrikingthem.Thewatchfiresagainblazed,andmen

sangandsleptunderthehospitableshelterofthetree.Hesawlovers

meetinquiethappinessnearhiminthemoonshine,andcarvethe

initialsoftheirnamesinthegrayish-greenbarkonhistrunk.

Once,butlongyearshadintervenedsincethen,guitarsandEolian

harpshadbeenhungonhisboughsbymerrytravellers;nowtheyseemed

tohangthereagain,andhecouldheartheirmarvelloustones.The

wood-pigeonscooedasiftoexplainthefeelingsofthetree,and

thecuckoocalledouttotellhimhowmanysummerdayshehadyetto

live.Thenitseemedasifnewlifewasthrillingthroughevery

fibreofrootandstemandleaf,risingeventothehighest

branches.Thetreefeltitselfstretchingandspreadingout,while

throughtherootbeneaththeearthranthewarmvigoroflife.Ashe

grewhigherandstillhigher,withincreasedstrength,histopmost

boughsbecamebroaderandfuller;andinproportiontohisgrowth,

sowashisself-satisfactionincreased,andwithitaroseajoyous

longingtogrowhigherandhigher,toreacheventothewarm,bright

sunitself.Alreadyhadhistopmostbranchespiercedtheclouds,which

floatedbeneaththemliketroopsofbirdsofpassage,orlargewhite

swans;everyleafseemedgiftedwithsight,asifitpossessedeyesto

see.Thestarsbecamevisibleinbroaddaylight,largeand

sparkling,likeclearandgentleeyes.Theyrecalledtothememorythe

well-knownlookintheeyesofachild,orintheeyesofloverswho

hadoncemetbeneaththebranchesoftheoldoak.Thesewerewonderful

andhappymomentsfortheoldtree,fullofpeaceandjoy;andyet,

amidstallthishappiness,thetreefeltayearning,longingdesire

thatalltheothertrees,bushes,herbs,andflowersbeneathhim,

mightbeablealsotorisehigher,ashehaddone,andtoseeallthis

splendor,andexperiencethesamehappiness.Thegrand,majesticoak

couldnotbequitehappyinthemidstofhisenjoyment,whileall

therest,bothgreatandsmall,werenotwithhim.Andthisfeelingof

yearningtrembledthrougheverybranch,througheveryleaf,as

warmlyandferventlyasiftheyhadbeenthefibresofahuman

heart.Thesummitofthetreewavedtoandfro,andbentdownwards

asifinhissilentlonginghesoughtforsomething.Thentherecame

tohimthefragranceofthyme,followedbythemorepowerfulscent

ofhoneysuckleandviolets;andhefanciedheheardthenoteofthe

cuckoo.Atlengthhislongingwassatisfied.Upthroughtheclouds

camethegreensummitsoftheforesttrees,andbeneathhim,theoak

sawthemrising,andgrowinghigherandhigher.Bushandherbshot

upward,andsomeeventorethemselvesupbytherootstorisemore

quickly.Thebirch-treewasthequickestofall.Likealightning

flashtheslenderstemshotupwardsinazigzagline,thebranches

spreadingarounditlikegreengauzeandbanners.Everynativeof

thewood,eventothebrownandfeatheryrushes,grewwiththerest,

whilethebirdsascendedwiththemelodyofsong.Onabladeofgrass,

thatflutteredintheairlikealong,greenribbon,sata

grasshopper,cleaninghiswingswithhislegs.Maybeetleshummed,the

beesmurmured,thebirdssang,eachinhisownway;theairwasfilled

withthesoundsofsongandgladness."

"Butwhereisthelittleblueflowerthatgrowsbythewater?

"

askedtheoak,"andthepurplebell-flower,andthedaisy?

"Yousee

theoakwantedtohavethemallwithhim.

"Hereweare,wearehere,"soundedinvoiceandsong.

"Butthebeautifulthymeoflastsummer,whereisthat?

andthe

lilies-of-the-valley,whichlastyearcoveredtheearthwiththeir

bloom?

andthewildapple-treewithitslovelyblossoms,andallthe

gloryofthewood,whichhasflourishedyearafteryear?

evenwhatmay

havebutnowsproutedforthcouldbewithushere."

"Wearehere,we