Andersens eventyr
Sammenligne indeværende historie på to sprog
"Det er en frygtelig historie!" sagde en høne, og det omme i den kant af byen, hvor historien ikke var passeret. "Det er en frygtelig historie i hønsehuset! jeg tør ikke sove alene i nat! det er godt at vi er mange sammen på hjalet!" – Og så fortalte hun, så at fjerene rejste sig på de andre høns og hanen lod kammen falde. Det er ganske vist!
"That was a terrible affair!" said a hen, and in a quarter of the town, too, where it had not taken place. "That was a terrible affair in a hen-roost. I cannot sleep alone to-night. It is a good thing that many of us sit on the roost together." And then she told a story that made the feathers on the other hens bristle up, and the cock's comb fall. There was no doubt about it.
Men vi vil begynde med begyndelsen, og den var i den anden kant af byen i et hønsehus. Solen gik ned og hønsene fløj op; en af dem, hun var hvidfjeret og lavbenet, lagde sine reglementerede æg og var, som høne, respektabel i alle måder; idet hun kom til hjals, pillede hun sig med næbbet, og så faldt der en lille fjer af hende.
But we will begin at the beginning, and that is to be found in a hen-roost in another part of the town. The sun was setting, and the fowls were flying on to their roost; one hen, with white feathers and short legs, used to lay her eggs according to the regulations, and was, as a hen, respectable in every way. As she was flying upon the roost, she plucked herself with her beak, and a little feather came out.
"Der gik den!" sagde hun, "jo mere jeg piller mig, des dejligere bliver jeg nok!" Og det var nu sagt i munterhed, for hun var det muntre sind mellem de høns, i øvrigt, som sagt, meget respektabel; og så sov hun.
"There it goes," she said; "the more I pluck, the more beautiful do I get." She said this merrily, for she was the best of the hens, and, moreover, as had been said, very respectable. With that she went to sleep.
Mørkt var det rundt om, høne sad ved høne og den, som sad hende nærmest, sov ikke; hun hørte og hun ikke hørte, som man jo skal i denne verden, for at leve i sin gode rolighed; men sin anden naboerske måtte hun dog sige det: "Hørte du hvad her blev sagt? Jeg nævner ingen, men der er en høne, som vil plukke sig, for at se godt ud! var jeg hane, ville jeg foragte hende!"
It was dark all around, and hen sat close to hen, but the one who sat nearest to her merry neighbour did not sleep. She had heard and yet not heard, as we are often obliged to do in this world, in order to live at peace; but she could not keep it from her neighbour on the other side any longer. "Did you hear what was said? I mention no names, but there is a hen here who intends to pluck herself in order to look well. If I were a cock, I should despise her."
Og lige oven over hønsene sad uglen med uglemand og uglebørn; de har skarpe ører i den familie, de hørte hvert ord, som nabohønen sagde, og de rullede med øjnene og uglemor viftede sig med vingerne: "Hør bare ikke efter! men I hørte sagtens hvad der blev sagt? Jeg hørte det med mine egne ører, og man skal høre meget før de falder af! Der er en af hønsene, som i den grad har glemt, hvad der skikker sig en høne, at hun sidder og piller alle fjerene af sig og lader hanen se på det!"
Just over the fowls sat the owl, with father owl and the little owls. The family has sharp ears, and they all heard every word that their neighbour had said. They rolled their eyes, and mother owl, beating her wings, said: "Don't listen to her! But I suppose you heard what was said? I heard it with my own ears, and one has to hear a great deal before they fall off. There is one among the fowls who has so far forgotten what is becoming to a hen that she plucks out all her feathers and lets the cock see it."
"Prenez garde aux enfants!" sagde uglefader, "det er ikke noget for børnene!"
"Prenez garde aux enfants!" said father owl; "children should not hear such things."
"Jeg vil dog fortælle genbougle det! det er sådan en agtværdig ugle i omgang!" og så fløj mutter.
"But I must tell our neighbour owl about it; she is such an estimable owl to talk to." And with that she flew away.
"Hu-hu! uhuh!" tudede de begge to og det lige ned i genboens dueslag til duerne. "Har I hørt det! har I hørt det! uhuh! der er en høne, som har plukket alle fjerene af sig for hanens skyld! hun fryser ihjel, om hun ikke er det, uhuh!"
"Too-whoo! Too-whoo!" they both hooted into the neighbour's dove-cot to the doves inside. "Have you heard? Have you heard? Too-whoo! There is a hen who has plucked out all her feathers for the sake of the cock; she will freeze to death, if she is not frozen already. Too-whoo!"
"Hvor? hvor?" kurrede duerne!
"Where? where?" cooed the doves.
"I genboens gård! jeg har så godt som selv set det! det er næsten en upassende historie at fortælle! men det er ganske vist!"
"In the neighbour's yard. I have as good as seen it myself. It is almost unbecoming to tell the story, but there is no doubt about it."
"Tror, tror hvert evige ord!" sagde duerne, og kurrede ned til deres hønsegård: "Der er en høne, ja der er somme der siger, at der er to, som har plukket alle fjerene af sig, for ikke at se ud som de andre og således vække hanens opmærksomhed. Det er et voveligt spil, man kan forkøle sig og dø af feber, og de er døde begge to!"
"Believe every word of what we tell you," said the doves, and cooed down into their poultry-yard. "There is a hen– nay, some say that there are two– who have plucked out all their feathers, in order not to look like the others, and to attract the attention of the cock. It is a dangerous game, for one can easily catch cold and die from fever, and both of these are dead already."
"Vågn op! vågn op!" galede hanen og fløj op på plankeværket, søvnen sad ham endnu i øjnene, men han galede alligevel: "Der er tre høns døde af ulykkelig kærlighed til en hane! de havde plukket alle fjerene af sig! det er en fæl historie, jeg vil ikke beholde den, lad gå videre!"
"Wake up! wake up!" crowed the cock, and flew upon his board. Sleep was still in his eyes, but yet he crowed out: "Three hens have died of their unfortunate love for a cock. They had plucked out all their feathers. It is a horrible story: I will not keep it to myself, but let it go farther."
"Lad gå videre!" peb flagermusene, og hønsene klukkede og hanerne galede: "Lad gå videre! lad gå videre!" og så fór historien fra hønsehus til hønsehus og til sidst tilbage til stedet, hvorfra den egentlig var gået ud.
"Let it go farther," shrieked the bats, and the hens clucked and the cocks crowed, "Let it go farther! Let it go farther!" In this way the story travelled from poultry-yard to poultry-yard, and at last came back to the place from which it had really started.
"Der er fem høns," hed det, "som alle har plukket fjerene af sig, for at vise, hvem af dem der var blevet magrest af kærestesorg til hanen, og så hakkede de hinanden til blods og faldt døde ned, til skam og skændsel for deres familie og til stort tab for ejeren!"
"Five hens," it now ran, "have plucked out all their feathers to show which of them had grown leanest for love of the cock, and then they all pecked at each other till the blood ran down and they fell down dead, to the derision and shame of their family, and to the great loss of their owner."
Og hønen, som havde mistet den løse lille fjer, kendte naturligvis ikke sin egen historie igen, og da hun var en respektabel høne, så sagde hun: Jeg foragter de høns! men der er flere af den slags! Sligt skal man ikke fortie, og jeg vil gøre mit til, at den historie kan komme i avisen, så går den landet over; det har de høns fortjent og familien med!"
The hen who had lost the loose little feather naturally did not recognise her own story, and being a respectable hen, said: "I despise those fowls; but there are more of that kind. Such things ought not to be concealed, and I will do my best to get the story into the papers, so that it becomes known throughout the land; the hens have richly deserved it, and their family too."
Og det kom i avisen og det blev trykt og det er ganske vist: En lille fjer kan nok blive til fem høns!
It got into the papers, it was printed; and there is no doubt about it, one little feather may easily grow into five hens.