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安徒生童話故事第99篇：兩只公雞中英文版本
引導語：兩只公雞在著名作家安徒生的筆下會寫出什么樣的童話故事呢?下文是相關的中英文版本，與大家分享閱讀了解。
從前有兩只公雞——只在糞堆上，另一只在屋頂上。他們都是驕傲得不可一世。不過他們之中誰表現得最突出呢?請把你的意見講出來吧……但是我們要保留我們的意見。養雞場是用一個木柵欄和另外一個場子隔開的。那另外一個場子里有一個糞堆，上面長著一個大黃瓜。黃瓜充分了解，它是生長在溫床里的一種植物。
“這是生來如此，”黃瓜自己心里想。“世上一切東西不會生下來就都是黃瓜;應該還有別種不同的東西才對!雞啦，鴨啦，以及旁邊那個場子里的牛，也都是生物。我現在就看見柵欄上有一只公雞。比起那只高高在上的風信雞來，他當然具有更大的重要性。那只風信雞連叫都不會，更說不上啼!而且它既然沒有母雞，當然也就沒有小雞;它只是老想著自己，冒出一身銅綠!嗨，這只養雞場上的公雞，才算得上是一只公雞哩!瞧他走路的那副樣子，簡直是跳舞!聽他啼叫的那種聲音，簡直是音樂!他每到一個地方，人們就好像聽到了喇叭似的!假如他到這兒來，把我連梗子和葉子一口吃掉，把我藏在他的身體里，那也算是一種很幸福的死吧!”黃瓜說。
晚間天氣變得非常壞。母雞、小雞和公雞都忙著找藏身的地方。這兩個場子之間的柵欄被狂風吹垮了，發出很大的聲響。瓦向下面飛，但是那只風信雞仍然坐得穩如泰山。它連頭也不掉一下，因為它的頭掉不過來。它很年輕，是新近鑄出來的，但是它卻也很清醒和沉著。它是“生而老成持重的”，與天空中的翩翩飛鳥，如麻雀和燕子之類的東西，是截然不同的。它瞧不起這些東西，這些“身材渺小、嘰嘰喳喳、平平凡凡的鳥兒”。鴿子是身材高大，光彩奪目，頗像珍珠母，同時樣子也像某種風信雞，不過他們卻是又胖又呆，而他們心中所想的唯一事情是怎樣裝點東西到肚皮里面去。“此外，跟他們打交道是再討厭不過的了，”風信雞說。
許多路過的鳥兒來拜訪這只風信雞，告訴它一些關于外國、空中旅行隊、驚心動魄的攔路搶劫的故事，以及與猛禽遭遇的故事。這類事兒在頭一次聽來是新鮮有趣的，但是風信雞后來知道，他們老是重復，老是講著同樣的事情。這是很單調的!他們是很單調的，一切都是單調的，誰都不值得來往，每個人都是呆板乏味。
“這個世界真是一文不值，”它說。“一切都是無聊之至!”
風信雞變得所謂“煩”起來了。這種情況在黃瓜看來——如果它知道的話——是非常有趣的。不過它只知道景仰養雞場的這只公雞，而不知他已經走進它的場子里，到它的身邊來了。
柵欄已經垮了，但閃電和雷聲卻是過去了。
“你們對于那陣叫聲有什么感想?”公雞問他的母雞和小雞。“那調子比較粗——缺乏藝術性。”
母雞和小雞都飛到那個糞堆上去。公雞也走來，像一個騎士。
“你這菜園的植物啊!”他對黃瓜說這話的時候，它體會到了他很有文化修養，卻沒有想到他正在啄它，把它吃掉。
“幸福的死!”
接著母雞來了，小雞也來了。只要他們之中有一個開始跑，別的也就都跑起來。他們咯咯地叫著，唱著，朝這公雞望。他們因為他而感到驕傲，覺得他是他們的族人。
“幄——幄——幄——幄!”他啼起來。“只要我在世界的養雞場上叫一聲，小雞馬上就長成大雞。”
于是母雞和小雞就跟著他咯咯地叫和唱。
這時公雞就告訴他們一個重大消息：
“一只公雞能夠生蛋!你們知道這蛋里面有什么嗎?在這蛋里面有一個蛇怪①。誰見到都會受不了的。人類都知道這件事。現在你們也知道了——知道了我身體里有什么東西，我是一只怎樣杰出的公雞!”
講完以后，這只公雞就拍拍翅膀，把雞冠豎起來，又啼了一聲。大家都震動了一下——包括所有的母雞和小雞。不過他們同時又感到萬分驕傲，覺得他們族人之中居然有這么一個杰出的人物。他們都咯咯地叫著、唱著，好叫那個風信雞聽到。它當然聽到了，但是它一點也不動。
“這真是無聊之至!”風信雞心里說。“養雞場里的公雞是從來不生蛋的，而我自己呢，我懶得生蛋。如果我高興的話，我可以生風蛋!但是這個世界不配有一個風蛋!一切真是無聊之至!現在我連坐在這兒也不愿意了。”
因此風信雞就倒下來了。但是它并沒有壓死養雞場上的那只公雞，“雖然它有這個意圖!”母雞們說。這故事的教訓是什么呢?
“與其變得煩而倒下來，倒不如啼幾聲為好。”
①這是指神話中的蛇(Basilisk)，是由蛇從公雞的蛋中孵出來的。它的呼吸和視線可以傷人。
兩只公雞英文版：
The Farm-Yard Cock and the Weather-Cock
THERE were two cocks—one on the dung-hill, the other on the roof. They were both arrogant, but which of the two rendered most service? Tell us your opinion—we’ll keep to ours just the same though.
The poultry yard was divided by some planks from another yard in which there was a dung-hill, and on the dung-hill lay and grew a large cucumber which was conscious of being a hot-bed plant.
“One is born to that,” said the cucumber to itself. “Not all can be born cucumbers; there must be other things, too. The hens, the ducks, and all the animals in the next yard are creatures too. Now I have a great opinion of the yard cock on the plank; he is certainly of much more importance than the weather-cock who is placed so high and can’t even creak, much less crow. The latter has neither hens nor chicks, and only thinks of himself and perspires verdigris. No, the yard cock is really a cock! His step is a dance! His crowing is music, and wherever he goes one knows what a trumpeter is like! If he would only come in here! Even if he ate me up stump, stalk, and all, and I had to dissolve in his body, it would be a happy death,” said the cucumber.
In the night there was a terrible storm. The hens, chicks, and even the cock sought shelter; the wind tore down the planks between the two yards with a crash; the tiles came tumbling down, but the weather-cock sat firm. He did not even turn round, for he could not; and yet he was young and freshly cast, but prudent and sedate. He had been born old, and did not at all resemble the birds flying in the air—the sparrows, and the swallows; no, he despised them, these mean little piping birds, these common whistlers. He admitted that the pigeons, large and white and shining like mother-o’-pearl, looked like a kind of weather-cock; but they were fat and stupid, and all their thoughts and endeavours were directed to filling themselves with food, and besides, they were tiresome things to converse with. The birds of passage had also paid the weather-cock a visit and told him of foreign countries, of airy caravans and robber stories that made one’s hair stand on end. All this was new and interesting; that is, for the first time, but afterwards, as the weather-cock found out, they repeated themselves and always told the same stories, and that’s very tedious, and there was no one with whom one could associate, for one and all were stale and small-minded.
“The world is no good!” he said. “Everything in it is so stupid.”
The weather-cock was puffed up, and that quality would have made him interesting in the eyes of the cucumber if it had known it, but it had eyes only for the yard cock, who was now in the yard with it.
The wind had blown the planks, but the storm was over.
“What do you think of that crowing?” said the yard cock to the hens and chickens. “It was a little rough—it wanted elegance.”
And the hens and chickens came up on the dung-hill, and the cock strutted about like a lord.
“Garden plant!” he said to the cucumber, and in that one word his deep learning showed itself, and it forgot that he was pecking at her and eating it up. “A happy death!”
The hens and the chickens came, for where one runs the others run too; they clucked, and chirped, and looked at the cock, and were proud that he was of their kind.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he crowed, “the chickens will grow up into great hens at once, if I cry it out in the poultry-yard of the world!”
And hens and chicks clucked and chirped, and the cock announced a great piece of news.
“A cock can lay an egg! And do you know what’s in that egg? A basilisk. No one can stand the sight of such a thing; people know that, and now you know it too—you know what is in me, and what a champion of all cocks I am!”
With that the yard cock flapped his wings, made his comb swell up, and crowed again; and they all shuddered, the hens and the little chicks—but they were very proud that one of their number was such a champion of all cocks. They clucked and chirped till the weather-cock heard; he heard it; but he did not stir.
“Everything is very stupid,” the weather-cock said to himself. “The yard cock lays no eggs, and I am too lazy to do so; if I liked, I could lay a wind-egg. But the world is not worth even a wind-egg. Everything is so stupid! I don’t want to sit here any longer.”
With that the weather-cock broke off; but he did not kill the yard cock, although the hens said that had been his intention. And what is the moral? “Better to crow than to be puffed up and break off!”
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