Andersens eventyr
Sammenligne indeværende historie på to sprog
Ude i skoven stod der sådant et nydeligt grantræ; det havde en god plads, sol kunne det få, luft var der nok af, og rundt om voksede mange større kammerater, både gran og fyr; men det lille grantræ var så ilter med at vokse; det tænkte ikke på den varme sol og den friske luft, det brød sig ikke om bønderbørnene der gik og småsnakkede, når de var ude at samle jordbær eller hindbær; tit kom de med en hel krukke fuld eller havde jordbær trukket på strå, så satte de sig ved det lille træ og sagde: "Nej! Hvor det er nydeligt lille!" Det ville træet slet ikke høre.
Far down in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting-place, grew a pretty little fir-tree; and yet it was not happy, it wished so much to be tall like its companions– the pines and firs which grew around it. The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant children passed by, prattling merrily, but the fir-tree heeded them not. Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or strawberries, wreathed on a straw, and seat themselves near the fir-tree, and say, "Is it not a pretty little tree?" which made it feel more unhappy than before.
Året efter var det en lang stilk større, og året efter igen var det endnu en meget længere; thi på et grantræ kan man altid, efter de mange led, det har, se hvor mange år det har vokset.
And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir-tree we can discover its age. Still, as it grew, it complained.
"Oh, var jeg dog sådant et stort træ, som de andre!" sukkede det lille træ, "så kunne jeg brede mine grene så langt omkring og med toppen se ud i den vide verden! Fuglene ville da bygge rede imellem mine grene, og når det blæste kunne jeg nikke så fornemt, ligesom de andre der!"
"Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the other trees, then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my top would over-look the wide world. I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity like my tall companions."
Det havde slet ingen fornøjelse af solskinnet, af fuglene eller de røde skyer, som morgen og aften sejlede hen over det.
The tree was so discontented, that it took no pleasure in the warm sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening.
Var det nu vinter, og sneen rundt omkring lå gnistrende hvid, så kom tit en hare springende, og satte lige over det lille træ, - oh, det var så ærgerligt! - Men to vintre gik, og ved den tredje var træet så stort, at haren måtte gå uden om det. Oh, vokse, vokse, blive stor og gammel, det var dog det eneste dejlige i denne verden, tænkte træet.
Sometimes, in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the ground, a hare would come springing along, and jump right over the little tree; and then how mortified it would feel! Two winters passed, and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained unsatisfied, and would exclaim, "Oh, if I could but keep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for in the world!"
I efteråret kom altid brændehuggerne og fældede nogle af de største træer, det skete hvert år, og det unge grantræ, som nu var ganske godt voksent, skælvede derved, thi de store, prægtige træer faldt med en knagen og bragen til jorden; grenene blev hugget fra, de så ganske nøgne, lange og smalle ud; de var næsten ikke til at kende, men så blev de lagt på vogne, og heste trak dem af sted ud af skoven.
In the autumn, as usual, the wood-cutters came and cut down several of the tallest trees, and the young fir-tree, which was now grown to its full height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash. After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare, that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed upon wagons, and drawn by horses out of the forest.
Hvor skulle de hen? Hvad forestod dem?
"Where were they going? What would become of them?"
I foråret, da svalen og storken kom, spurgte træet dem: "Ved I ikke, hvor de førtes hen? Har I ikke mødt dem?"
The young fir-tree wished very much to know; so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, "Do you know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?"
Svalerne vidste ikke noget, men storken så betænkelig ud, nikkede med hovedet og sagde: "Jo, jeg tror det! Jeg mødte mange nye skibe da jeg fløj fra Ægypten; på skibene var prægtige mastetræer, jeg tør sige, at det var dem, de lugtede af gran; jeg kan hilse mange gange, de knejste, de knejste!"
The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head, and said, "Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately."
"Oh, var jeg dog også stor nok til at flyve hen over havet! Hvorledes er det egentligt dette hav, og hvad ligner det?"
"Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea," said the fir-tree. "What is the sea, and what does it look like?"
"Ja det er så vidtløftigt at forklare!" sagde storken, og så gik den.
"It would take too much time to explain," said the stork, flying quickly away.
"Glæd dig ved din ungdom!" sagde solstrålerne; "glæd dig ved din friske vækst, ved det unge liv, som er i dig!"
"Rejoice in thy youth," said the sunbeam; "rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee."
Og vinden kyssede træet, og duggen græd tårer over det, men det forstod grantræet ikke.
And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the fir-tree regarded them not.
Når det var ved juletid, da blev ganske unge træer fældet, træer som tit ikke engang var så store eller i alder med dette grantræ, der hverken havde rast eller ro, men altid ville af sted; disse unge træer, og de var just de allersmukkeste, beholdt altid alle deres grene, de blev lagt på vogne og heste trak dem af sted ud af skoven.
Christmas-time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some even smaller and younger than the fir-tree who enjoyed neither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest.
"Hvorhen skal de?" spurgte grantræet. "De er ikke større end jeg, der var endogså et, der var meget mindre; hvorfor beholder de alle deres grene? Hvor kører de hen?"
"Where are they going?" asked the fir-tree. "They are not taller than I am: indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going?"
"Det ved vi! Det ved vi!" kvidrede gråspurvene. "Vi har nede i byen kigget ind ad ruderne! Vi ved, hvor de kører hen! Oh, de kommer til den største glans og herlighed, der kan tænkes! Vi har kigget ind af vinduerne og set at de bliver plantet midt i den varme stue og pyntet med de dejligste ting, både forgyldte æbler, honningkager, legetøj og mange hundrede lys!"
"We know, we know," sang the sparrows; "we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,– honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers."
"Og så -?" spurgte grantræet og bævede i alle grene. "Og så? Hvad sker så?"
"And then," asked the fir-tree, trembling through all its branches, "and then what happens?"
"Ja, mere har vi ikke set! Det var mageløst!"
"We did not see any more," said the sparrows; "but this was enough for us."
"Mon jeg er blevet til for at gå denne strålende vej?" jublede træet. "Det er endnu bedre, end at gå over havet! Hvor jeg lider af længsel! Var det dog jul! Nu er jeg høj og udstrakt, som de andre, der førtes af sted sidste år! - Oh, var jeg alt på vognen! Var jeg dog i den varme stue med al den pragt og herlighed! Og da -? Ja, da kommer noget endnu bedre, endnu skønnere, hvorfor skulle de ellers således pynte mig! Der må komme noget endnu større, endnu herligere –! Men hvad? Oh, jeg lider! Jeg længes! Jeg ved ikke selv, hvorledes det er med mig!"
"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me," thought the fir-tree. "It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel."
"Glæd dig ved mig!" sagde luften og sollyset; "glæd dig ved din friske ungdom ude i det fri!"
"Rejoice with us," said the air and the sunlight. "Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air."
Men det glædede sig slet ikke; det voksede og voksede, vinter og sommer stod det grønt; mørkegrønt stod det; folk, som så det, sagde: "Det er et dejligt træ!" og ved juletid blev det fældet først af alle. Øksen huggede dybt igennem marven, træet faldt med et suk hen ad jorden, det følte en smerte, en afmagt, det kunne slet ikke tænke på nogen lykke, det var bedrøvet ved at skilles fra hjemmet, fra den plet, hvor det var skudt frem; det vidste jo, at det aldrig mere så de kære gamle kammerater, de små buske og blomster rundt om, ja måske ikke engang fuglene. Afrejsen var slet ikke noget behageligt.
But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day; and, winter and summer, its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest, while passers by would say, "What a beautiful tree!" A short time before Christmas, the discontented fir-tree was the first to fall. As the axe cut through the stem, and divided the pith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and faintness, and forgetting all its anticipations of happiness, in sorrow at leaving its home in the forest. It knew that it should never again see its dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and many-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the birds. Neither was the journey at all pleasant.
Træet kom først til sig selv, da det i gården, afpakket med de andre træer, hørte en mand sige: "Det dér er prægtigt! Vi bruger ikke uden det!"
The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say, "We only want one, and this is the prettiest."
Nu kom to tjenere i fuld stads og bar grantræet ind i en stor, dejlig sal. Rundt om på væggene hang portrætter, og ved den store flisekakkelovn stod store kinesiske vaser med løver på låget; der var gyngestole, silkesofaer, store borde fulde af billedbøger, og med legetøj for hundrede gange hundrede rigsdaler - i det mindste sagde børnene det. Og grantræet blev rejst op i en stor fjerding, fyldt med sand, men ingen kunne se, at det var en fjerding, thi der blev hængt grønt tøj rundt om, og den stod på et stort broget tæppe. Oh, hvor træet bævede! Hvad ville der dog ske? Både tjenere og frøkener gik og pyntede det. På en gren hang de små net, udklippet af kulørt papir; hvert net var fyldt med sukkergodt; forgyldte æbler og valnødder hang, som om de var vokset fast, og over hundrede røde, blå og hvide smålys blev stukket fast i grenene. Dukker, der så livagtig ud som mennesker, - træet havde aldrig set sådanne før - svævede i det grønne, og allerøverst oppe i toppen blev sat en stor stjerne af flitterguld; det var prægtigt, ganske mageløst prægtigt.
Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir-tree into a large and beautiful apartment. On the walls hung pictures, and near the great stove stood great china vases, with lions on the lids. There were rocking chairs, silken sofas, large tables, covered with pictures, books, and playthings, worth a great deal of money,– at least, the children said so. Then the fir-tree was placed in a large tub, full of sand; but green baize hung all around it, so that no one could see it was a tub, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. How the fir-tree trembled! "What was going to happen to him now?" Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree. On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was filled with sweetmeats; from other branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above, and all round, were hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened on the branches. Dolls, exactly like real babies, were placed under the green leaves,– the tree had never seen such things before,– and at the very top was fastened a glittering star, made of tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful!
"I aften," sagde de alle sammen, "i aften skal det stråle!"
"This evening," they all exclaimed, "how bright it will be!"
"Oh!" tænkte træet, "var det dog aften! Var bare lysene snart tændt! Og hvad mon da sker? Mon der kommer træer fra skoven og ser på mig? Mon gråspurvene flyver ved ruden? Mon jeg her vokser fast og skal stå pyntet vinter og sommer?"
"Oh, that the evening were come," thought the tree, "and the tapers lighted! then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly? shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter?"
Jo, det vidste god besked; men det havde ordentligt barkepine af bare længsel, og barkepine er lige så slem for et træ, som hovedpine for os andre.
But guessing was of very little use; it made his bark ache, and this pain is as bad for a slender fir-tree, as headache is for us.
Nu blev lysene tændt. Hvilken glans, hvilken pragt, træet bævede i alle grene derved, så at et af lysene stak ild i det grønne; det sved ordentligt.
At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of light the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its branches, that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burnt some of them.
"Gud bevare os!" skreg frøknerne og slukkede i en hast.
"Help! help!" exclaimed the young ladies, but there was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire.
Nu turde træet ikke engang bæve. Oh, det var en gru! Det var så bange for at tabe noget af al sin stads; det var ganske fortumlet i al den glans, – – og nu gik begge fløjdøre op, og en mængde børn styrtede ind, som om de ville vælte hele træet; de ældre folk kom besindige bag efter; de små stod ganske tavse, - men kun et øjeblik, så jublede de igen så at det rungede efter; de dansede rundt om træet, og den ene present efter den anden blev plukket af.
After this, the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire frightened him; he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree; they were followed more silently by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with astonishment, and then they shouted for joy, till the room rang, and they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after another was taken from it.
"Hvad er det, de gør?" tænkte træet. "Hvad skal der ske?" Og lysene brændte lige ned til grenene, og eftersom de brændte ned, slukkede man dem, og så fik børnene lov til at plyndre træet. Oh, de styrtede ind på det, så at det knagede i alle grene; havde det ikke ved snippen og guldstjernen været bundet fast til loftet, så var det styrtet om.
"What are they doing? What will happen next?" thought the fir. At last the candles burnt down to the branches and were put out. Then the children received permission to plunder the tree. Oh, how they rushed upon it, till the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down.
Børnene dansede rundt med deres prægtige legetøj, ingen så på træet uden den gamle barnepige, der gik og tittede ind imellem grenene, men det var bare for at se, om der ikke var glemt endnu en figen eller et æble.
The children then danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children's maid who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.
"En historie! En historie!" råbte børnene og trak en lille tyk mand hen imod træet, og han satte sig lige under det, "for så er vi i det grønne," sagde han, "og træet kan have besynderligt godt af at høre med! Men jeg fortæller kun én historie. Vil I høre den om Ivede-Avede eller den om Klumpe-Dumpe, som faldt ned af trapperne og kom dog i højsædet og fik prinsessen!"
"A story, a story," cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards the tree. "Now we shall be in the green shade," said the man, as he seated himself under it, "and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story; what shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess."
"Ivede-Avede!" skreg nogle, "Klumpe-Dumpe!" skreg andre; der var en råben og skrigen, kun grantræet tav ganske stille og tænkte: "Skal jeg slet ikke med, slet ikke gøre noget!" det havde jo været med, havde gjort hvad det skulle gøre.
"Ivede-Avede," cried some. "Humpty Dumpty," cried others, and there was a fine shouting and crying out. But the fir-tree remained quite still, and thought to himself, "Shall I have anything to do with all this?" but he had already amused them as much as they wished.
Og manden fortalte om "Klumpe-Dumpe der faldt ned af trapperne og kom dog i højsædet og fik prinsessen." Og børnene klappede i hænderne og råbte: "Fortæl! Fortæl!" De ville også have "Ivede-Avede," men de fik kun den om "Klumpe-Dumpe." Grantræet stod ganske stille og tankefuld, aldrig havde fuglene ude i skoven fortalt sligt. "Klumpe-Dumpe faldt ned af trapperne og fik dog prinsessen! Ja, ja, således går det til i verden!" tænkte grantræet og troede at det var virkeligt, fordi det var sådan en net mand, som fortalte. "Ja, ja! Hvem kan vide! Måske falder jeg også ned af trapperne og får en prinsesse!" og det glædede sig til næste dag at blive klædt på med lys og legetøj, guld og frugter.
Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty, how he fell down stairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, "Tell another, tell another," for they wanted to hear the story of "Ivede-Avede;" but they only had "Humpty Dumpty." After this the fir-tree became quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds in the forest told such tales as "Humpty Dumpty," who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess. "Ah! yes, so it happens in the world," thought the fir-tree; he believed it all, because it was related by such a nice man. "Ah! well," he thought, "who knows? perhaps I may fall down too, and marry a princess;" and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit.
"I morgen vil jeg ikke ryste!" tænkte det. "Jeg vil ret fornøje mig i al min herlighed. I morgen skal jeg igen høre historien om "Klumpe-Dumpe" og måske den med om "Ivede-Avede."" Og træet stod stille og tankefuld den hele nat.
"To-morrow I will not tremble," thought he; "I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede." And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night.
Om morgnen kom karl og pige ind.
In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in.
"Nu begynder stadsen igen!" tænkte træet, men de slæbte det ud af stuen, op ad trappen, ind på loftet, og her, i en mørk krog, hvor ingen dag skinnede, stillede de det hen. "Hvad skal det betyde!" tænkte træet. "Hvad mon jeg her skal bestille? Hvad mon jeg her skal få at høre?" og det hældede sig op til muren og stod og tænkte og tænkte. – – Og god tid havde det, thi der gik dage og nætter; ingen kom herop, og da der endelig kom nogen, så var det for at stille nogle store kasser hen i krogen; træet stod ganske skjult, man skulle tro, at det var rent glemt.
"Now," thought the fir, "all my splendor is going to begin again." But they dragged him out of the room and up stairs to the garret, and threw him on the floor, in a dark corner, where no daylight shone, and there they left him. "What does this mean?" thought the tree, "what am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this," and he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one came near him, and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put away large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely hidden from sight as if it had never existed.
"Nu er det vinter derude!" tænkte træet. "Jorden er hård og dækket med sne, menneskene kan ikke plante mig; derfor skal jeg nok her stå i læ til foråret! Hvor det er velbetænkt! Hvor dog menneskene er gode! - Var her kun ikke så mørkt og så skrækkeligt ensomt! - Ikke engang en lille hare! - Det var dog så artigt der ude i skoven, når sneen lå, og haren sprang forbi; ja, selv da den sprang hen over mig, men det holdt jeg ikke af dengang. Her oppe er dog skrækkeligt ensomt!"
"It is winter now," thought the tree, "the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh! it is terrible lonely here."
"Pi, pi!" sagde en lille mus i det samme og smuttede frem; og så kom der nok en lille. De snusede til grantræet og smuttede mellem grenene på det.
"Squeak, squeak," said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the tree; then came another; and they both sniffed at the fir-tree and crept between the branches.
"Det er en gruelig kulde!" sagde de små mus. "Ellers er her velsignet at være! Ikke sandt, du gamle grantræ?"
"Oh, it is very cold," said the little mouse, "or else we should be so comfortable here, shouldn't we, you old fir-tree?"
"Jeg er slet ikke gammel!" sagde grantræet, "der er mange, der er meget ældre end jeg!"
"I am not old," said the fir-tree, "there are many who are older than I am."
"Hvor kommer du fra?" spurgte musene, "og hvad ved du?" de var nu så grueligt nysgerrige. "Fortæl os dog om det dejligste sted på jorden! Har du været der? Har du været i spisekammeret, hvor der ligger oste på hylderne og hænger skinker under loftet, hvor man danser på tællelys, og går mager ind og kommer fed ud!"
"Where do you come from? and what do you know?" asked the mice, who were full of curiosity. "Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin and come out fat."
"Det kender jeg ikke!" sagde træet, "men skoven kender jeg, hvor solen skinner, og hvor fuglene synger!" og så fortalte det alt fra sin ungdom, og de små mus havde aldrig før hørt sådant noget, og de hørte sådan efter og sagde: "Nej, hvor du har set meget! Hvor du har været lykkelig!"
"I know nothing of that place," said the fir-tree, "but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing." And then the tree told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said, "What a number of things you have seen? you must have been very happy."
"Jeg!" sagde grantræet og tænkte over, hvad det selv fortalte; "ja, det var, i grunden, ganske morsomme tider!" - men så fortalte det om juleaften, da det var pyntet med kager og lys.
"Happy!" exclaimed the fir-tree, and then as he reflected upon what he had been telling them, he said, "Ah, yes! after all those were happy days." But when he went on and related all about Christmas-eve, and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said,
"Oh!" sagde de små mus, "hvor du har været lykkelig, du gamle grantræ!"
"How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree."
"Jeg er slet ikke gammel!" sagde træet, "det er jo i denne vinter, jeg er kommet fra skoven! Jeg er i min allerbedste alder, jeg er bare sat i væksten!"
"I am not old at all," replied the tree, "I only came from the forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth."
"Hvor du fortæller dejligt!" sagde de små mus, og næste nat kom de med fire andre småmus, der skulle høre træet fortælle, og jo mere det fortalte, desto tydeligere huskede det selv alt og syntes: "Det var dog ganske morsomme tider! Men de kan komme, de kan komme! Klumpe-Dumpe faldt ned af trapperne og fik dog prinsessen, måske jeg kan også få en prinsesse," og så tænkte grantræet på sådant et lille nydeligt birketræ, der voksede ude i skoven, det var for grantræet en virkelig dejlig prinsesse.
"What splendid stories you can relate," said the little mice. And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell. The more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to himself, "Those were happy days, but they may come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too." And the fir-tree thought of the pretty little birch-tree that grew in the forest, which was to him a real beautiful princess.
"Hvem er Klumpe-Dumpe?" spurgte de små mus. Og så fortalte grantræet hele eventyret, det kunne huske hvert evige ord; og de små mus var færdige ved at springe op i toppen på træet af bare fornøjelse. Næste nat kom der mange flere mus, og om søndagen endogså to rotter; men de sagde, at historien var ikke morsom, og det bedrøvede de små mus, thi nu syntes de også mindre om den.
"Who is Humpty Dumpty?" asked the little mice. And then the tree related the whole story; he could remember every single word, and the little mice was so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they said, it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.
"Kan De kun den ene historie?" spurgte rotterne.
"Do you know only one story?" asked the rats.
"Kun den ene!" svarede træet, "den hørte jeg min lykkeligste aften, men dengang tænkte jeg ikke på, hvor lykkelig jeg var!"
"Only one," replied the fir-tree; "I heard it on the happiest evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time."
"Det er en overmåde dårlig historie! Kan De ingen med flæsk og tællelys? Ingen spisekammerhistorier?"
"We think it is a very miserable story," said the rats. "Don't you know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom."
"Nej!" sagde træet.
"No," replied the tree.
"Ja, så skal De have tak!" svarede rotterne og gik ind til deres.
"Many thanks to you then," replied the rats, and they marched off.
De små mus blev til sidst også borte, og da sukkede træet: "Det var dog ganske rart, da de sad omkring mig de vævre småmus og hørte, hvad jeg fortalte! Nu er også det forbi! - Men jeg skal huske at fornøje mig, når jeg nu tages frem igen!"
The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed, and said, "It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place."
Men når skete det? - Jo! det var en morgenstund, da kom der folk og rumsterede på loftet; kasserne blev flyttet, træet blev trukket frem; de kastede det rigtignok lidt hårdt mod gulvet, men straks slæbte en karl det hen imod trappen, hvor dagen skinnede.
But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone.
"Nu begynder livet igen!" tænkte træet; det følte den friske luft, den første solstråle, - og nu var det ude i gården. Alt gik så gesvindt, træet glemte rent at se på sig selv, der var så meget at se rundt om. Gården stødte op til en have, og alt blomstrede derinde; roserne hang så friske og duftende ud over det lille rækværk, lindetræerne blomstrede, og svalerne fløj om og sagde "kvirre-virre-vit, min mand er kommet!" men det var ikke grantræet, de mente.
"Now life is beginning again," said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, "Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,"– but it was not the fir-tree they meant.
"Nu skal jeg leve!" jublede det og bredte sine grene vidt ud; ak, de var alle visne og gule; det var i krogen mellem ukrudt og nælder, at det lå. Guldpapirsstjernen sad endnu oppe i toppen og glimrede i det klare solskin.
"Now I shall live," cried the tree, joyfully spreading out its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine.
I gården selv legede et par af de lystige børn, der ved juletid havde danset om træet og været så glade ved det. En af de mindste fór hen og rev guldstjernen af.
In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree.
"Se, hvad der sidder endnu på det ækle, gamle juletræ!" sagde han og trampede på grenene, så de knagede under hans støvler.
"Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree," said the child, treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots.
Og træet så på al den blomsterpragt og friskhed i haven, det så på sig selv, og det ønskede, at det var blevet i sin mørke krog på loftet; det tænkte på sin friske ungdom i skoven, på den lystige juleaften og på de små mus, der så glade havde hørt på historien om Klumpe-Dumpe.
And the tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story of "Humpty Dumpty."
"Forbi! forbi!" sagde det stakkels træ. "Havde jeg dog glædet mig, da jeg kunne! forbi! forbi!"
"Past! past!" said the old tree; "Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too late."
Og tjenestekarlen kom og huggede træet i små stykker, et helt bundt lå der; dejligt blussede det op under den store bryggerkedel; og det sukkede så dybt, hvert suk var som et lille skud; derfor løb børnene, som legede, ind og satte sig foran ilden, så ind i den og råbte: "Pif! Paf!" Men ved hvert knald, der var et dybt suk, tænkte træet på en sommerdag i skoven, en vinternat derude, når stjernerne skinnede; det tænkte på juleaften og Klumpe-Dumpe, det eneste eventyr, det havde hørt og vidste at fortælle, og så var træet brændt ud.
Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot. Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, "Pop, pop." But at each "pop," which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of "Humpty Dumpty," the only story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was consumed.
Drengene legede i gården, og den mindste havde på brystet guldstjernen, som træet havde båret sin lykkeligste aften; nu var den forbi, og træet var forbi og historien med; forbi, forbi, og det bliver alle historier!
The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest evening of its existence. Now all was past; the tree's life was past, and the story also,– for all stories must come to an end at last.