安徒生童話:The Snowdrop謊報夏
The Snowdrop
by Hans Christian Andersen（1863）
IT was winter-time； the air was cold， the wind was sharp， but within the closed doors it was warm and comfortable， and within the closed door lay the flower； it lay in the bulb under the snow-covered earth.
One day rain fell. the drops penetrated through the snowy covering down into the earth， and touched the flower-bulb， and talked of the bright world above. Soon the Sunbeam pierced its way through the snow to the root， and within the root there was a stirring.
“Come in，” said the flower.
“I cannot，” said the Sunbeam. “I am not strong enough to unlock the door！ When the summer comes I shall be strong！”
“When will it be summer？” asked the Flower， and she repeated this question each time a new sunbeam made its way down to her. But the summer was yet far distant. The snow still lay upon the ground， and there was a coat of ice on the water every night.
“What a long time it takes！ what a long time it takes！” said the Flower. “I feel a stirring and striving within me； I must stretch myself， I must unlock the door， I must get out， and must nod a good morning to the summer， and what a happy time that will be！”
And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind which the water had softened from without， and the snow and the earth had warmed， and the Sunbeam had knocked at； and it shot forth under the snow with a GREenish-white blossom on a green stalk， with narrow thick leaves， which seemed to want to protect it. The snow was cold， but was pierced by the Sunbeam， therefore it was easy to get through it， and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than before.
“Welcome， welcome！” sang and sounded every ray， and the Flower lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams caressed and kissed it， so that it opened altogether， white as snow， and ornamented with GREen stripes. It bent its head in joy and humility.
“Beautiful Flower！” said the Sunbeams， “how graceful and delicate you are！ You are the first， you are the only one！ You are our love！ You are the bell that rings out for summer， beautiful summer， over country and town. All the snow will melt； the cold winds will be driven away； we shall rule； all will become GREen， and then you will have companions， syringas， laburnums， and roses； but you are the first， so graceful， so delicate！”
That was a GREat pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing and sounding， as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and the stalks of the Flower. There it stood， so delicate and so easily broken， and yet so strong in its young beauty； it stood there in its white dress with the green stripes， and made a summer. But there was a long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun， and bleak winds were blowing.
“You have come too early，” said Wind and Weather. “We have still the power， and you shall feel it， and give it up to us. You should have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display of yourself. Your time is not come yet！”
It was a cutting cold！ the days which now come brought not a single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer， which would be sure to come， which had been announced by her deep longing and confirmed by the warm sunlight； and so she remained standing in confidence in the snow in her white garment， bending her head even while the snow-flakes fell thick and heavy， and the icy winds swept over her.
“You'll break！” they said， “and fade， and fade！ What did you want out here？ Why did you let yourself be tempted？ The Sunbeam only made game of you. Now you have what you deserve， you summer gauk.”
“Summer gauk！” she repeated in the cold morning hour.
“O summer gauk！” cried some children rejoicingly； “yonder stands one—how beautiful， how beautiful！ the first one， the only one！”
these words did the Flower so much good， they seemed to her like warm sunbeams. In her joy the Flower did not even feel when it was broken off. It lay in a child's hand， and was kissed by a child's mouth， and carried into a warm room， and looked on by gentle eyes， and put into water. How strengthening， how invigorating！ The Flower thought she had suddenly come upon the summer.
the daughter of the house， a beautiful little girl， was confirmed， and she had a friend who was confirmed， too. He was studying for an examination for an appointment. “He shall be my summer gauk，” she said； and she took the delicate Flower and laid it in a piece of scented paper， on which verses were written， beginning with summer gauk and ending with summer gauk. “My friend， be a winter gauk.” She had twitted him with the summer. Yes， all this was in the verses， and the paper was folded up like a letter， and the Flower was folded in the letter， too. It was dark around her， dark as in those days when she lay hidden in the bulb. The Flower went forth on her journey， and lay in the post-bag， and was pressed and crushed， which was not at all pleasant； but that soon came to an end.
the journey was over； the letter was opened， and read by the dear friend. How pleased he was！ He kissed the letter， and it was laid， with its enclosure of verses， in a box， in which there were many beautiful verses， but all of them without flowers； she was the first， the only one， as the Sunbeams had called her； and it was a pleasant thing to think of that.
She had time enough， moreover， to think about it； she thought of it while the summer passed away， and the long winter went by， and the summer came again， before she appeared once more. But now the young man was not pleased at all. He took hold of the letter very roughly， and threw the verses away， so that the Flower fell on the ground. Flat and faded she certainly was， but why should she be thrown on the ground？ Still， it was better to be here than in the fire， where the verses and the paper were being burnt to ashes. What had happened？ What happens so often：—the Flower had made a gauk of him， that was a jest； the girl had made a fool of him， that was no jest， she had， during the summer， chosen another friend.
Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened Snowdrop， that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The servant girl， who was sweeping out the room， picked it up， and laid it in one of the books which were upon the table， in the belief that it must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the flower lay among verses—printed verses—and they are better than written ones—at least， more money has been spent upon them.
And after this years went by. the book stood upon the book-shelf， and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It was a good book； verses and songs by the old Danish poet， Ambrosius Stub， which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the book turned over a page.
“Why， there's a flower！” he said； “a snowdrop， a summer gauk， a poet gauk！ That flower must have been put in there with a meaning！ Poor Ambrosius Stub！ he was a summer fool too， a poet fool； he came too early， before his time， and therefore he had to taste the sharp winds， and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to another， like a flower in a glass of water， a flower in rhymed verses！ Summer fool， winter fool， fun and folly—but the first， the only， the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes， thou shalt remain as a token in the book， thou little snowdrop： thou hast been put there with a meaning.”
And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book， and felt equally honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book of songs， and that he who was the first to sing and to write had been also a snowdrop， had been a summer gauk， and had been looked upon in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this， in her way， as we interpret everything in our way.
That is the story of the Snowdrop.
那是冬天，空氣很寒冷，朔風刺骨，但是屋子裏暖和舒服，花兒呆在屋子裏，躺在土裏和雪下自己的球莖裏。
有一天下雨了。雨水穿過雪層浸進土裏，潤溼了花的球莖，通報了地面上已是光明世界。太陽很快便把它纖細有穿透力的光線射過雪層，射到花的球莖，輕輕地撫摸着它。“請進！”花兒說道。“不行！我還沒有強壯到能打開你的球莖的程度。夏天我會更強壯一些。”“甚麼時候纔是夏天？”花兒問道，而且每當陽光射進來的時候它都要重複問這句話。但是距離夏天還遠呢，雪還蓋在上面，每個長夜裏水總是凍結成冰。“怎麼這麼久啊！怎麼這麼久啊！”花兒說道。“我覺得渾身痠痛。我得伸伸腰，活動活動自己的肢體，我得綻開來，我要出去，問夏天早安。那將是幸福的時刻！”
於是花兒伸伸腰、活動活動肢體，朝薄薄的外殼撞擊了幾下。這薄殼被外面的水泡軟，被雪和泥土溫暖，被陽光射透。它在雪下發出芽來，在自己的綠梗上結出了嫩綠的骨朵，還長出又窄又厚的葉子，像一道野生屏圍保衛着它。雪很涼，但被陽光照得透亮，這樣便很容易被衝破，現在陽光用比以前更大的力量照曬着。“歡迎！歡迎！”每一道陽光都在歌唱；花兒伸出了雪層來到了光明的世界裏。陽光鼓着掌，親吻着它。接着花兒完全綻開了，白得像雪一樣，被綠色的條紋裝點着。它高興卻又羞赧地垂下了頭。“美麗的花兒！”陽光歌唱道。“你是多麼新鮮多麼嬌嫩啊！你是第一朵花！你是唯一的一朵花！你是我們的愛情！你帶來了夏天，爲鄉村和城市帶來了可愛的夏天！雪全部要融化了！寒風要被趕走！我們要主宰一切！萬物都將披上綠裝！於是你便有了朋友，丁香和毒豆，最後是玫瑰。不過你是第一朵花，那麼柔嫩，那麼纖巧。”
真是快樂極了，就像空氣在唱歌在奏樂，就像光線射進了它的花瓣兒和梗子。它站在那裏，樣子很嬌嫩，似乎很容易被折斷，但又那麼健壯，充滿了青春美。它站在那裏，身上穿着白色的外衣，繫着綠色的腰帶，讚美着夏天。但是夏天還早着呢，雲還遮擋着太陽，刺骨的寒風還在吹襲着它。“你來早了一點兒！”風和雨說道，“我們還有威力呢。你會感覺到，這一切夠你受的！你應該呆在屋裏，不該跑出來顯示自己，還不是時候呢。”
天氣冷得刺骨。連續幾天沒有一絲陽光；對於這樣一株嬌嫩脆弱的小花兒，這天氣會把它凍得裂碎。但是它有連自己都想不到的力量，在歡樂和對夏天充滿信心中它是堅強的。夏天必定會到來的，它深切地渴望並預感着，溫暖的陽光也證實了這點。就這樣它穿着白衣服欣慰地站在那裏，當雪花紛繁落下、刺骨的寒風吹過它的身體時，它便垂下了自己的頭。“你快破裂吧！”它們說道。“你快枯萎、結冰吧！你跑出來幹甚麼？爲甚麼你要受誘惑，是太陽光欺騙了你！現在有你的好日子過了，你這謊報夏！”“謊報夏！”它在寒冷的早晨重複說道。“謊報夏！”有幾個跑進院子裏來的孩子高興地叫道。“那邊有一朵，那麼漂亮，那麼可愛。第一朵花，唯一的一朵花！”短短的幾句話使花兒覺得很舒暢，這些話像和煦的陽光。花兒十分歡快，竟沒有感到它已經被摘下。它在孩子們的手中，被孩子親吻着，被帶進了溫暖的房間裏。它被孩子用溫柔的眼睛觀望着，被插到水中。它感覺到力量在增長，生命旺盛起來。花兒以爲它突然進入夏天了。
這家人的女兒——一個可愛的小姑娘，她已長大，參加過向上帝表示堅信的儀式。她有一個可愛的小朋友，也是剛剛參加過堅信儀式的，他讀書並要以知識謀生。“他要成爲我的謊報夏1！”她說道。於是拿走了這朵柔嫩的花，把它放在一張有芳香氣味的紙上。這張紙上寫着詩，是關於花兒的詩。它以謊報夏開頭，也以謊報夏結尾。“小朋友，做一個在冬日受騙的小朋友吧！”她用夏天和他開玩笑。是的，這些都寫在詩裏了。於是這張紙成了一封信，花兒躺在裏面，它的四周都很黑，很黑，就像躺在花球莖裏一樣。花兒開始了旅行，被放進郵袋裏，被擠被壓，一點兒也不舒服，不過也有結束的時候。
旅行結束了，信被那位親愛的朋友拆開來讀了。他高興極了，吻了花兒一下。它被四周的詩圍着送進一個抽屜裏，裏面有好幾封漂亮的信，但卻沒有花兒。它是第一朵花，唯一的一朵花，就像陽光所說的那樣；想一想這些它是很高興的。它可以躺在那裏想很長時間，想啊想。夏天過去了，漫長的冬天過去了，又到了夏天，接着又過去了。可是這時那年輕人一點兒也不快樂了，他狠狠地抓起了那些信紙，把詩拋到一邊。於是花兒落到了地上，它變得扁癟、枯萎。但是不應該因此把它拋在地上，不過這總比被火燒掉好一些，火把那些詩和信全都燒掉了。究竟出了甚麼事呢？就是經常發生的那些事。花兒騙了他，這全是鬧着玩的。但年輕的姑娘騙他，那可不是鬧着玩的。在仲夏時節，她又交上了另一個新朋友。
清晨，陽光射了進來，照在那朵扁癟的謊報夏上，這花兒看去就像是畫在地上似的。清掃房間的女傭人把它拾了起來，夾在桌上的一本書裏。她以爲花兒是她在整理房間的時候落下來的。花兒又躺在詩的中間了，而且是印好的詩。這些詩比那些手寫的詩要高雅得多，至少，比手寫的詩花的錢更多。
一年年過去了，那本書立在書架上。後來它被取下來，被打開、讀着。那是一本好書：丹麥詩人安勃洛西烏斯·斯圖布2的詩歌集，他自然是很值得結識的。讀書的人翻着書。“這裏有一朵花兒！”他說道，“一朵謊報夏！把它夾在這裏一定是有意義的。可憐的安勃洛西烏斯·斯圖布！他也是一朵謊報夏，一個誘人受騙的詩人！他當年來到世界上太早了，所以迎接他的是雪霰，是尖銳的寒風。他結交了菲因島上的富紳，卻像玻璃花瓶中的花兒，像詩信中夾着的花兒！是一朵謊報夏，一個冬日謊，是一場玩笑，是傻瓜，然而是第一個，唯一的一個充滿了青春活力的丹麥詩人。是啊，就像書中的書籤一樣，小謊報夏！你被放在那裏是有意義的。”
於是謊報夏又被放進書裏。得知自己是一本美好的詩歌集的書籤，得知第一個歌唱並寫了這個集子的人，自己曾經是在冬季相信夏天到來的謊報夏，它便在書中覺得十分榮幸。花兒現在以自己的方式明白了事理，就像任何事物會以我們自己的方式去明白一樣。
這就是關於謊報夏的童話！
題注19世紀丹麥對安徒生這篇故事所用的“謊報夏”這個詞是有爭議的。這種植物的學名是Galanthusnivalis，在丹麥文中一般叫“冬日謊”。這種花在拉丁文漢語字典中譯爲雪蓮花，但卻又不是我們天山上的那種雪蓮花，是歐洲草地上在晚春時節開的一種小白花，由於它是一年中最早綻開的花，所以人們說它是在謊報夏天的到來。這篇童話最初發表在1862年末出版的《1863年丹麥大衆日曆》中，後來，1866年安徒生將它收在《新童話故事（二系四集）》中。在重新發表時，他對文章的結尾作了很重要的修改，不是以“這就是關於謊報夏的童話”作結束的。讀一下原稿的結尾對瞭解這篇童話有很大的作用，現一併譯出供讀者參考。
一天書又被取出來了，讀它的是另一個人：“有一朵冬日謊！”他說道。
這是花的一個新名字，以前它從沒有聽到過這個名字，它只知道而且珍視它的老名字。“冬日謊！”屋裏其他的人說道，“這是新名，這名字我們在古時丹麥是不知道的。讓我們保留正確的，那是謊報夏，那個名字很美，有意義，有所指，此外它是記在莫爾貝克的書（指莫爾貝克編的《丹麥字典》——譯註。）之中的。”可是在《植物教材》中寫的是冬日謊！“另外那人說道。”你能否認於是他們爲名字爭執起來，誰都想比別人聰明一些。“植物學上它叫”Galanthusnivalis！“”謊報夏“是它的丹麥名字！我堅持我的祖宗的合理說法。不要拉丁文！拉丁文呆在一邊去！”花站在那個把它稱爲謊報夏的人的一邊，因爲這樣有意義！安徒生的朋友阿道夫·德魯森曾對安徒生講過，他爲雪蓮花的丹麥文名字應該是謊報夏作過鬥爭。他覺得安徒生應該寫一篇《謊報夏》的童話，說這是給這種花正名的最好的辦法。德魯森曾在1862年在《丹麥園藝時報》上撰文爲謊報夏正名，因爲它說謊、騙人、給人以夏天即將到來的希望；而冬日謊這個名字就其時間來看，是毫無意義的。
安徒生在4年後終於寫成了這篇童話。
1指一個收到一封信，信中夾着一朵謊報夏的人；這樣給這個人一種夏日將來臨的想法。這原是丹麥的習俗，最初有以這種方式傷人或取笑人的意思。因爲人們認爲謊報夏有傷人的性質。
2丹麥詩人和民歌表演家。他常在菲因島上的富紳家宴上愚弄取笑別人。
