小雏菊的花语是什么 雏菊

　　 Now you shall hear! 　　Out in the country, close by the roadside, there was a country house; you yourself have certainly once seen it. Before it is a little garden with flowers, and a paling which is painted. Close by it, by the ditch, in the midst of the most beautiful green grass, grew a little daisy. The sun shone as warmly and as brightly upon it as on the great splendid garden flowers, and so it grew from hour to hour. One morning it stood in full bloom, with its little shining white leaves spreading like rays round the little yellow sun in the centre. It never thought that no man would notice it down in the grass, and that it was a poor despised floweret; no, it was so well pleased, and turned to the warm sun, looked up at it, and listened to the lark carolling high in the air.
　　The little daisy was as happy as if it were a great holiday, and yet it was only a Monday. All the children were at school; and while they sat on their benches learning, it sat on its little green stalk, and learned also from the warm sun, and from all around, how good God is. And the daisy was very glad that everything it silently felt was sung so loudly and charmingly by the lark. And the daisy looked up with a kind of respect to the happy bird who could sing and fly; but it was not at all sorrowful because it could not fly and sing also.
　　“I can see and hear," it thougt: "the sun shines on me, and the wind kisses me. Oh, how richly have I been gifted!"
　　 Within the palings stood many stiff aristocratic flowers--the less scent they had the more they flaunted. The peonies blew themselves out to be greater than the roses, but size will not do it; the tulips had the most splendid colours, and they knew that, and held themselves bolt upright, that they might be seen more plainly. They did not notice the little daisy outside there, but the daisy looked at them the more, and thought,"How rich and beautiful they are! Yes, the pretty bird will certainly fly down to them and visit them. I am glad that I stand so near them, for at any rate I can enjoy the sight of their splendour!" And just as she thought that-- "keevit! --down came flying the lark, but not down to the peonies and tulips--no, down into the grass to the lowly daisy, which started so with joy that it did not know what to think.
　　 The little bird danced round about it, and sang, "Oh, how soft the grass is! And see what a lovely little flower, with gold in its heart and silver on its dress!"
　　For the yellow point in the daisy looked like gold, and the little leaves around it shone silvery white.
　　How happy was the little daisy--no one can conceive how happy! The bird kissed it with his beak, sang to it, and then flew up again into the blue air. A quarter of an hour passed, at least, before the daisy could recover itself. Half ashamed, and yet inwardly rejoiced, it looked at the other flowers in the garden; for they had seen the honour and happiness it had gained, and must understand what a joy it was. But the tulips stood up twice as stiff as before, and they looked quite peaky in the face and quite red, for they had been vexed. The peonies were quite wrong-headed; it was well they could not speak, or the daisy would have received a good scolding. The poor little flower could see very well that they were not in a good humour, and that hurt it sensibly. At this moment there came into the garden a girl with a great sharp shining knife; she went straight up to the tulips, and cut off one after another of them.
　　 "Oh!" sighed the little daisy, "this is dreadful; now it is all over with them."
　　 Then the girl went away with the tulips. The daisy was glad to stand out in the grass, and to be only a poor little flower; it felt very grateful; and when the sun went down it folded its leaves and went to sleep, and dreamed all night long about the sun and the pretty little bird.
　　 Next morning, when the flower again happily stretched out all its white leaves, like little arms, towards the air and the light, it recognized the voice of the bird, but the song he was singing sounded mournfully. Yes, the poor lark had good reason to be sad: he was caught, and now sat in a cage close by the open window.
　　He sang of free and happy roaming, sang of the young green corn in the fields, and of the glorious journey he might make on his wings high through the air. The poor lark was not in good spirits, for there he sat a prisoner in a cage.
　　The little daisy wished very much to help him. But what was it to do? Yes, that was difficult to make out. It quite forgot how everything was beautiful around, how warm the sun shone, and how splendidly white its own leaves were. Ah! it could think only of the imprisoned bird, and how it was powerless to do anything for him.
　　Just then two little boys came out of the garden. One of them carried in his hand a knife big and sharp like that which the girl had used to cut off the tulips. They went straight up to the little daisy, which could not at all make out what they wanted.
　　"Here we may cut a capital piece of turf for the lark," said one of the boys; and he began to cut off a square patch round about the daisy, so that the flower, remained standing in its piece of grass.
　　"Pull off the flower!" said the other boy.
　　And the daisy trembled with fear, for to be pulled off would be to lose its life; and now it wanted particularly to live, as it was to be given with the piece of turf to the captive lark.
　　"No, let it stay," said the other boy; "it makes such a nice ornament."
　　And so it remained, and was put into the lark"s cage. But the poor bird complained aloud of his lost liberty, and beat his wings against the wires of his prison; and the little daisy could not speak--could say no consoling word to him, gladly as it would have done so. And thus the whole morning passed.
　　"Here is no water," said the captive lark." They are all gone out, and have forgotten to have me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. It is like fire and ice within me, and the air is so close. Oh, I must die! I must leave the warm sunshine, the fresh green, and all the splendour that God has created!"
　　And then he thrust his beak into the cool turf to refresh himself a little with it. Then the bird"s eye fell upon the daisy, and he nodded to it, and kissed it with his beak, and said.
　　"You also must wither in here, you poor little flower. They have given you to me with the little patch of green grass on which you grow, instead of the whole world which was mine out there! Every little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, and everyone of your white leaves a fragrant flower. Ah, you only tell me how much I have lost!"
　　"If I could only comfort him!" thought the little daisy.
　　It could not stir a leaf; but the scent which streamed forth from its delicate leaves was far stronger than is generally found in these flowers; the bird also noticed that, and though he was fainting with thirst, and in his pain plucked up the green blades of grass, he did not touch the flower.
　　 The evening came, and yet nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water. Then he stretched out his pretty wings and beat the air frantically with them; his song changed to a mournful piping, his little head sank down towards the flower, and the bird"s heart broke with want and yearning. Then the flower could not fold its leaves, as it had done on the previous evening, and sleep; it drooped, sorrowful and sick, towards the earth.
　　Not till the next morning did the boys come; and when they found the bird dead they wept--wept many tears--and dug him a neat grave, which they adorned with leaves of flowers. The bird"s corpse was put into a pretty red box, for he was to be royally buried--the poor bird! While he was alive and sang they forgot him, and let him sit in his cage and suffer want; but now that he was dead he had grandeur and many tears.
　　But the patch of turf with the daisy on it was thrown out into the high road: no one thought of the flower that had felt the most for the little bird, and would have been so glad to console him.
　　
　　现在你来听听这个故事吧！
　　在乡间的一条大路旁，有一座农舍。你肯定见过这种房子的。屋前是一个鲜花盛开的小花园，栅栏已经上了漆。附近有道沟，在美丽的绿草中间，长着一株小雏菊。阳光温暖灿烂地照在雏菊上，就像照耀在花园里其它各种漂亮的花草上一样。雏菊好像每时每刻都在长大。一天早晨，它完全绽放了：小小的白色花瓣像光线一样，从中间的黄色的太阳般的花心中间散发出来。它从不觉得因为自己长在绿草中间，人们就不会注意到它，自己会被瞧不起。不，它很快乐，它注视着温暖的太阳，听百灵鸟在欢快地歌唱。
　　瞧小雏菊那高兴劲儿，好像是过节一般，实际上今天才是星期一。所有的孩子们都上学了，坐在凳子上专心听讲。它也坐在自己碧绿的花枝上，从太阳那里，从周围的万物那里，领会到上帝的仁慈。它很快乐，因为它静静地体会的东西，都由百灵鸟用洪亮优美的声音歌颂出来了。雏菊抬起头，敬慕地望着那快乐的会唱会飞的百灵鸟，但它也不因为自己不能唱不会飞而难过。
　　 “我能看得见，能听得到，”它想，“太阳照着我，风儿亲着我。啊，我得到的东西真是太多了!”
　　栅栏里面长着许多昂首挺胸的名贵花木，它们的香味越淡，就越是虚张声势。牡丹开得比玫瑰还大，但开那么大有什么用呢?郁金香知道自己的色彩最鲜艳，就一个劲地朝上翘，好让人看清它们。它们都没有注意到栅栏外的小雏菊，不过雏菊却经常看到它们。它想：“它们多富贵、多漂亮呀!确实，漂亮的鸟儿一定会落在它们上面，拜访它们的。我很庆幸自己离它们很近，因为不管怎样，我可以看到它们艳丽的色彩呀!”它刚想到这里，就听到“叽叽――叽叽”的声音，原来是只百灵鸟落了下来。但它没有落在牡丹和郁金香上面，而是落在了矮矮的雏菊旁边的青草里。这可让雏菊乐坏了，脑子里激动得一时什么都想不起来了。
　　那只小鸟在它四周跳着舞，唱道：“啊，草儿真柔软!瞧这小花多可爱，心是金黄的，而衣着却是银白的!”
　　因为雏菊的黄花心像金子一般，而四周的小花瓣却像银子一样闪亮。
　　小雏菊听了多高兴呀――谁都体会不到它那高兴劲儿!百灵鸟用嘴亲吻着它，为它唱歌，然后又飞上了蓝天。至少过了一刻钟，小雏菊都没有从兴奋中恢复过来。它用半是羞怯、半是快乐的眼神注视着花园里别的花儿。它们都看到了小雏菊得到的荣誉和快乐，也都明白此时它兴奋的心情。但郁金香挺得有以前两倍那么直，脸色阴沉，涨得通红，因为它们很恼火。牡丹花也被气昏了。如果它们能说话，小雏菊一定会饱受讥讽的。可怜的小雏菊一眼就能看出它们情绪低落，所以它自己感到很难过。这时，一个小姑娘手拿一把明晃晃的大刀，走进花园。她径直走到郁金香那里，一刀一刀把它们砍掉了。
　　“噢!”小雏菊叹道，“这真可怕呀，现在它们全完蛋了。”
　　小姑娘带着郁金香走了。小雏菊站在青草中间，为自己是一朵不起眼的小花而感到欣慰，内心充满了感激之情。太阳落山以后，它收起了自己的花瓣，安然入眠，一夜梦见的全是关于太阳和那只漂亮小鸟的事儿。
　　第二天早晨，雏菊快活地展开自己的小白花瓣，像许多小白手臂一样，伸向空气和阳光。它听出了那只百灵鸟的声音，但它唱的歌很忧郁。是的，可怜的百灵鸟确实有理由难过。它被抓住了，正蹲在一扇敞开的窗户边上的鸟笼里。
　　它为自由、快乐的飞翔而歌唱，为田间新绿的麦苗而歌唱，为他曾经的展翅高飞而歌唱。可怜的百灵鸟情绪消沉，因为它成了笼中之囚。
　　小雏菊非常想帮助它。但它能做什么呢?是的，很难想到什么好办法。它忘记了周围美丽的景色，温暖的阳光，也忘记了自己美丽的白花瓣。唉!它只想着关在笼里的百灵鸟，而自己想帮它，却无能为力。
　　这时有两个小男孩从花园里走出来。有一个手中拿着一把又大又快的刀，像那个姑娘割郁金花的刀一样。他们俩径直地走到小雏菊旁边，但谁也猜不出来他们要做什么。
　　“我们来给百灵鸟砍块草皮吧!”一个孩子说。他动手在雏菊身边砍起一块四四方方的草皮，雏菊正好留在草皮中央。
　　 “把那花儿拔掉!”另一个孩子说。
　　雏菊害怕地颤抖起来，因为如果把它拔掉，它就死定了。它非常想生存下去，希望自己连同那块草皮一起，被带到百灵鸟身边。
　　“不，让它留在草皮上吧，”另一个孩子说，“它把草皮装点得很好看呀!”
　　于是雏菊继续留在了草皮上，被放进了鸟笼。但可怜的鸟儿还在大叫大嚷，抱怨自己失去了自由，用翅膀不住地拍打着笼栏。小雏菊不会说话，所以没有办法用话语安慰它，要是它会说话就好了。就这样，一个上午过去了。
　　“这儿没水，”被困住的百灵鸟说，“他们都出门了，忘了给我准备点喝的。我的嗓子都干得冒烟了。我难受极了，而自由的天地就离我这么近!啊，我肯定要死了!我将离开温暖的阳光，新鲜的绿色，和上帝创造的所有美丽的东西!”
　　这时，它将自己的嘴伸进清凉的草皮，好舒服一下。它的眼睛落在了雏菊身上，就冲雏菊点头致意，还用自己的嘴吻着它。它说：“你也会在这里枯死的，可怜的小花儿。他们把你连同你根部的草皮带给我，而不是给我属于我的整个世界!对我来说，每片绿叶都是一棵绿树，你的每一片白花瓣都是一朵芬芳的花呀!唉，你让我想起自己失去了多少东西!”
　　“要是我能安慰它就好了!”小雏菊想。
　　它动不了自己的一片花瓣，但它美丽的花瓣发出的香味，比平时都要香得多。那只鸟也注意到了。所以尽管他已经渴得奄奄一息，但他在痛苦之中，仍然只啄那些绿草叶，还是不去碰雏菊。
　　夜幕降临，还是没有人来给鸟儿送水。它展开自己美丽的翅膀，拼命地在空中拍打着。他的歌唱变成了痛苦的呻吟，小脑袋也耷拉到了雏菊身上，它的心在缺水和渴望中破碎了。雏菊也不能像头一天晚上那样，收起花瓣入睡。它垂下头，伤感又虚弱。
　　第二天早晨孩子们才来。当他们看到鸟儿死了时，流下许多许多眼泪，还给它挖了座坟，用花瓣来装饰上面。鸟的尸体被放进了一个漂亮的小红盒子，因为它将被体面地埋葬。可怜的鸟儿!当它活着歌唱时，他们根本不在意，把它关在笼子里，让他忍饥受渴。而现在它死了，却得到了荣耀和眼泪！
　　那块草皮连同雏菊一起，被扔到了一个大马路上。没有人会想到，正是雏菊最为小鸟而难过，期盼着自己能安慰那只鸟儿。