安徒生童話故事第6篇：頑皮的孩子The Saucy Boy

　　引導語：關于頑皮的孩子的安徒生童話故事，大家學習過？下面是小編收集的中英文版吧，歡迎大家閱讀！

　　從前有一位老詩人——一位非常和善的老詩人。有一天晚上，他坐在家里，外面起了一陣可怕的風暴。雨在傾盆地下著;不過這位老詩人坐在爐旁，又溫暖，又舒適。

　　火在熊熊地燎著，蘋果烤得咝咝地發響。

　　“這樣的天氣，外面的窮苦人身上恐怕沒有一根紗是干的了。"他說，因為他是一位心腸非常好的老詩人。

　　“啊，請開門!我非常冷，衣服也全濕透了。"外面有一個小孩子在叫。他哭起來，敲著門。這時雨正在傾盆地下著，風把所有的窗扉吹得呼呼地響。

　　“你這個可憐的小家伙!"老詩人說;他走過去把門開了。門口站著一個小小的孩子。他全身沒有穿衣服，雨水從他長長的金發上滾下來。他凍得發抖;如果他沒有走進來的話，一定會在這樣的暴風雨中凍死的。

　　“你這個可憐的小家伙!"老詩人說，同時拉著他的手。

　　“到我這兒來吧，我可以使你溫暖起來。我可以給你喝一點酒，吃一個蘋果，因為你是一個美麗的孩子。”

　　他的確是很美麗的。他的眼睛亮得像兩顆明亮的星星，他的金發雖然有水滴下來，可是卷卷曲曲的，非常好看。他像一個小小的天使，不過他凍得慘白，全身發抖。他手里拿著一把漂亮的弓，但是雨水已經把它弄壞了。涂在那些美麗箭上的色彩全都被雨淋得模糊不清了。

　　老詩人坐在爐邊，把這小孩子抱到膝上，把雨水從他的卷發里擠出來，把他的手放到自己的手里暖著，同時為他熱了一些甜酒。這孩子馬上就恢復過來了。他的雙頰也變得紅潤起來了。他跳到地上來，圍著這位老詩人跳舞。

　　“你是一個快樂的孩子!"老詩人說。"你叫什么名字?”

　　“我叫阿穆爾①，"他回答說;"你不認識我嗎?我的弓就在這兒。你知道，我就是用這把弓射箭哪!看啊，外面天晴了，月亮也出來了。”

　　“不過你的弓已經壞了。"老詩人說。

　　“這倒是很可惜的，"小孩子回答說，同時把弓拿起來，看了一看。"哎，它還很干呢，并沒有受到什么損害。弦還很緊——我倒要試它一試!"于是他把弓一拉，插上一支箭，對準了目標，向這位和善的老詩人的心中射去。"請你現在看看究竟我的弓損壞了沒有!"他說，大笑了一聲，就跑掉了。這小孩子該是多么頑皮啊!他居然向這位老詩人射了一箭，而這位老詩人還把他請進溫暖的房間里來，對他非常和善，給他喝最好的酒，吃最好的蘋果呢!

　　這位和善的老詩人躺在地上，哭起來了;他的心中了一箭，他說："嗨，這個阿穆爾真是一個頑皮的孩子!我要把這事情告訴所有的好孩子們，叫他們當心，不要跟他一起玩耍，因為他會跟他們搗蛋!”

　　所有的好孩子們——女孩子和男孩子們——聽到了他講的這個故事，都對這個頑皮的孩子有了戒心;然而他還是騙過了他們，因為他非常地伶俐。當大學生聽完了課走出來的時候，他就穿著一件黑上衣，腋下夾著一本書，在他們的旁邊走，他們一點也沒有看出他。于是他們就挽著他的手，以為他也是一個學生呢。過時他就把一支箭射進他們的心里去。當女孩子們到教堂去受"堅信禮"②的時候，他也在后面跟著她們。是的，他老是在跟著人!他坐在戲院里的蠟燭臺上，光耀奪目，弄得人們把他當做一盞明燈。可是不久大家就知道完全不是這么一回事。他在御花園里，在散步場上跑來跑去。是的，他從前有過一次射中了你爸爸和媽媽的心啦。你只需問問他們。你就可以聽到一段故事。咳，這個阿穆爾真是一個壞孩子;你們決不能跟他有任何來往!他在跟著每一個人。

　　你想想看，有一次他居然把一支箭射進老祖母的心里去啦

　　=——不過這是很久以前的事了。那個創傷早已經治好了，但是老祖母一直忘不了它。呸，那個惡作劇的阿穆爾!不過你現在認識他了!你知道他是一個多么頑皮的孩子。

　　①阿穆爾(Amor)即希臘神話中的丘比特，是羅馬神話中愛情之神。他是一個頑皮和快樂的孩子，經常帶著弓和箭。當他的箭射到一個人的心里去的時候，這支箭就燃起愛情的火焰。

　　②在基督教里面，小孩子受了洗禮以后，到了青春發育期間、一般地都要再受一次"堅信禮"，以加強和鞏固他對宗教的信心。受"堅信禮"是進入成人階段的標記。

　　頑皮的孩子英文版：

　　The Saucy Boy

　　ONCE upon a time there was an old poet, one of those right good old poets.

　　One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a terrible storm going on outside; the rain was pouring down, but the old poet sat comfortably in his chimney-corner, where the fire was burning and the apples were roasting.

　　“There will not be a dry thread left on the poor people who are out in this weather,” he said.

　　“Oh, open the door! I am so cold and wet through,” called a little child outside. It was crying and knocking at the door, whilst the rain was pouring down and the wind was rattling all the windows.

　　“Poor creature!” said the poet, and got up and opened the door. Before him stood a little boy; he was naked, and the water flowed from his long fair locks. He was shivering with cold; if he had not been let in, he would certainly have perished in the storm.

　　“Poor little thing!” said the poet, and took him by the hand. “Come to me; I will soon warm you. You shall have some wine and an apple, for you are such a pretty boy.”

　　And he was, too. His eyes sparkled like two bright stars, and although the water flowed down from his fair locks, they still curled quite beautifully.

　　He looked like a little angel, but was pale with cold, and trembling all over. In his hand he held a splendid bow, but it had been entirely spoilt by the rain, and the colours of the pretty arrows had run into one another by getting wet.

　　The old man sat down by the fire, and taking the little boy on his knee, wrung the water out of his locks and warmed his hands in his own.

　　He then made him some hot spiced wine, which quickly revived him; so that with reddening cheeks, he sprang upon the floor and danced around the old man.

　　“You are a merry boy,” said the latter. “What is your name?”

　　“My name is Cupid,” he answered. “Don’t you know me? There lies my bow. I shoot with that, you know. Look, the weather is getting fine again—the moon is shining.”

　　“But your bow is spoilt,” said the old poet.

　　“That would be unfortunate,” said the little boy, taking it up and looking at it. “Oh, it’s quite dry and isn’t damaged at all. The string is quite tight; I’ll try it.” So, drawing it back, he took an arrow, aimed, and shot the good old poet right in the heart. “Do you see now that my bow was not spoilt?” he said, and, loudly laughing, ran away. What a naughty boy to shoot the old poet like that, who had taken him into his warm room, had been so good to him, and had given him the nicest wine and the best apple!

　　The good old man lay upon the floor crying; he was really shot in the heart. “Oh!” he cried, “what a naughty boy this Cupid is! I shall tell all the good children about this, so that they take care never to play with him, lest he hurt them.”

　　And all good children, both girls and boys, whom he told about this, were on their guard against wicked Cupid; but he deceives them all the same, for he is very deep. When the students come out of class, he walks beside them with a book under his arm, and wearing a black coat. They cannot recognize him. And then, if they take him by the arm, believing him to be a student too, he sticks an arrow into their chest. And when the girls go to church to be confirmed, he is amongst them too. In fact, he is always after people. He sits in the large chandelier in the theatre and blazes away, so that people think it is a lamp; but they soon find out their mistake. He walks about in the castle garden and on the promenades. Yes, once he shot your father and your mother in the heart too. Just ask them, and you will hear what they say. Oh! he is a bad boy, this Cupid, and you must never have anything to do with him, for he is after every one. Just think, he even shot an arrow at old grandmother; but that was a long time ago. The wound has long been healed, but such things are never forgotten.

　　Now you know what a bad boy this wicked Cupid is.