《墓里的孩子》是著名作家安徒生童話選其中之一作品。下面就讓我們一起來看看這個(gè)故事吧!
墓里的孩子簡介
一位母親失去了她最小的兒子，于是她變得一蹶不振。一天，死神帶她去見她死去孩子的靈魂，她的兒子告訴她他過的很好，讓她不要再哭泣了，他要去上帝哪里去了。死去的孩子還告訴他的母親，他的父親和姐姐們正在等她呢。去世孩子的一番話，讓這位母親完全蘇醒過來了，她獲得了力量，比從前活的更好。
墓里的孩子的故事
屋子里充滿哀傷，心中充滿哀傷，最幼小的孩子，一個(gè)四歲的男孩，這家人唯一的兒子，父母的歡樂和希望，死掉了。他們誠然還有兩個(gè)女兒，最大的一個(gè)恰恰在今年該參加向上帝表示終身堅(jiān)信的儀式了，兩個(gè)都是很可愛的好姑娘。可是這最小的孩子卻總是最受疼愛的，他最小，還是一個(gè)兒子。這是一場嚴(yán)峻的考驗(yàn)。姐姐們極為悲痛，就像任何年輕的心的悲痛一樣，她們的父母的痛楚特別使她們揪心。父親的腰彎下了，母親被這巨大的悲傷壓垮了。她整天圍著這病孩子轉(zhuǎn)，照料他，摟著他，抱著他。她感覺他是她的一部分。她不相信他死了，不肯讓他躺進(jìn)棺材埋進(jìn)墳里。上帝不能把這個(gè)孩子從她身邊帶走，她這樣認(rèn)為：在事情仍然如此發(fā)生，成了事實(shí)的時(shí)候，她在極度痛苦中說道：
“上帝知道這件事情!世上有他的沒有心肝的仆從，他們?yōu)樗麨椋麄儾宦犚晃荒赣H的祈禱。”
在痛楚中她離開了上帝。于是黑暗的思想，死亡，人在泥土中化作泥土的永恒死亡的想法，在她心中出現(xiàn)了;接著一切便都完了。在這樣的思想中她失去了依附，而陷入迷惘的無底深淵中去了。
在這最沉痛的時(shí)刻，她再也哭不出了。她不想自己年幼的女兒。男人的淚水滴到她的額頭，她不抬眼看他。她的思想完全專注在那死去的孩子身上，她的整個(gè)生命，她的生存都沉緬在喚回對(duì)孩子的點(diǎn)點(diǎn)記憶中，喚回他的每一句天真的話語中。
安葬的日子到來了。之前的幾個(gè)夜晚她完全沒有入睡。那天清晨時(shí)分，她疲倦到了極點(diǎn)，略為休息了一會(huì)兒。就在這時(shí)，棺材被抬到一間偏僻的屋子里，棺蓋在那兒被釘上，為的是不讓她聽到鎯頭的響聲。
她醒過來的時(shí)候，站起來要去看她的孩子。男人含著眼淚對(duì)她說：“我們已經(jīng)把棺蓋釘上了。不得不這樣!”
“連上帝對(duì)我都這樣狠，”她喊道，“人對(duì)我還會(huì)好得了多少!”她抽泣痛哭。
棺材被抬到了墳地，痛苦絕望的母親和她的年幼的女兒在一起。她望著她們，但卻沒有瞧見她們，她的思想里已經(jīng)再?zèng)]有什么家了。她完全被哀傷所控制，哀傷在撞擊著她，就像海洋在撞擊一條失去了舵、失去了控制的船一樣。安葬那天便這樣過去了，之后幾天也是在這種同樣沉重的痛苦中度過的。全家人都用濕潤的眼睛和憂傷的目光望著她，她聽不到他們安慰她的語言。他們又能說什么呢，他們也是悲傷得很的。
就好像她已經(jīng)不懂得什么是睡眠了。現(xiàn)在只有睡眠才是她最好的朋友，它能使她的身軀重新獲得力量，使她的心靈得到安寧。他們勸她躺到床上，她確也像一個(gè)睡眠的人一樣躺著。一天夜里，男人聽著她的呼吸，相信她已經(jīng)在休息、精神已經(jīng)松馳下來。于是他把自己的手疊上，祈禱，然后便很快睡著了。他沒有覺察到她爬了起來，把衣服披在身上，然后靜悄悄地走出屋子，走向她日夜想念的那個(gè)地方，走向埋著她孩子的地方。她走過自家屋舍的院子，走到了田野里，那里有小路繞過城通到教堂的墳園。誰也沒有看見她，她也沒有看見任何人。
那是九月初，一個(gè)滿天繁星的美好夜晚，空氣還很柔和。她走進(jìn)了教堂墓地，走到那座小小的墳前。這墳就像唯一一個(gè)大花環(huán)，花兒散發(fā)著芳香。她坐下來，把頭垂向墳?zāi)梗秃孟袼軌蛲高^密實(shí)的土層看到她的孩子似的。孩子的微笑還是那樣活靈活現(xiàn)地存在于她的記憶中。他眼中那親切的表情，即便是在病床上，也都是永遠(yuǎn)不能被忘記的。在她彎身向他，拉著他自己無力舉起的手的時(shí)候，他的目光就像在傾訴一樣。就像坐在他的床邊一樣，她現(xiàn)在坐在他的墳旁，眼淚在不由自主地流淌，都落到了墳上。
“你想到下面你孩子的身邊去吧!”身旁有一個(gè)聲音這樣說道。這聲音清晰極了，很深沉，一直響到她的心里。她抬頭望了望，看見身旁站著一個(gè)男人，他身上裹著很大的哀喪大氅，帽子蓋過了頭。不過，她還是從帽子下看到了他的面孔，十分嚴(yán)峻，很能引起人的信任。他的眼睛閃閃發(fā)光，就好像他還是一個(gè)青年。
“到下面我的孩子身邊!”她重復(fù)了一遍，聲音中露出一種猶豫的祈望。
“你敢隨我去嗎?”那身形問道。“我是死神!”
她點(diǎn)頭作了肯定的表示，忽然一下子，就好像上面所有的星星都散發(fā)著滿圓的月亮散發(fā)的那種亮光。她看見墳上的五顏六色的絢麗的花朵，泥層變得松軟柔和，像一塊飄忽的布。她下沉了，那身形把他的黑大氅攤開裹住她，已經(jīng)是夜晚了，是死神的夜晚。她深深地沉了下去，比掘墓的鋤挖的還要深，教堂的墳園像一片屋頂似地覆蓋在她的頭上。
大氅的一個(gè)邊滑向一旁，她站在一個(gè)宏大的廳里，大廳向四邊延伸很遠(yuǎn)，有一種友善的氣氛。四周彌漫著一片昏暗，突然之間，孩子在她面前出現(xiàn)。她把孩子緊緊地抱到她的胸前。孩子對(duì)她微笑，那笑的美麗是前所未有過的。她高聲地喊了起來，可是聲音卻聽不見。因?yàn)榇藭r(shí)有一陣宏亮的音樂，先在她近身的地方，接著又在遠(yuǎn)處響了起來。從來沒有這樣令她感到幸福的聲音在她的耳畔響過。這聲音在漆黑密實(shí)的掛簾的那邊響蕩著，那掛簾把大廳和那巨大的永恒的土地隔開了。
“我親愛的媽媽!我的親媽媽!”她聽她的孩子在說。這是那熟悉、可愛的聲音。在無窮無盡的幸福之中，她一次又一次地親吻著他。孩子用手指著那漆黑的掛簾。
“塵世上沒有這樣的幸福!你瞧見了嗎，媽媽!你瞧見所有的那些人了嗎!這是幸福!”
可是，在孩子所指的地方，除去茫茫黑夜之外，母親什么也沒有看見。她是用塵世的眼在看，不能像這個(gè)被上帝召去的孩子那樣看。她聽到了聲音，樂音，但是她聽不到那些她應(yīng)該相信的話。
“我現(xiàn)在能飛了，媽媽!”孩子說道，“和其他所有快樂的孩子一起，一直飛進(jìn)那邊，到上帝那里去。我很想去。可是在你哭的時(shí)候，像你現(xiàn)在這樣哭的時(shí)候，我是不能離開你的。可我多想啊!我要是可以，該多么好啊!要知道，你不用多久，也會(huì)去到那邊我那里的，親愛的媽媽!”
“哦，留下吧!哦，留下吧!”她說道，“只再呆一小會(huì)兒!我要再看你一遍，吻你，把你緊緊地抱在我的胳膊里!”她吻他，緊緊地抱著他。這時(shí)從上面?zhèn)鱽砹撕魡舅值穆曇簦@些聲音充滿了哀怨。到底是怎么回事!
“你聽見了嗎!”孩子說道，“那是爸爸在呼喚你!”接著，只歇了一小會(huì)兒，又傳來深深的嘆息，像是孩子在哭。
“這是我的兩個(gè)姐姐!”孩子說道，“媽媽，你當(dāng)然沒有忘記她們吧!”
于是她記起了尚存留世上的幾個(gè)人，一絲不安掠過她的心頭。她朝自己的前邊望去，總有幾個(gè)搖曳的身形走過，她覺得她認(rèn)識(shí)幾個(gè)。他們游過死亡的大廳，朝那漆黑的掛簾走去，在那兒消失掉。是不是看見的身形中有她的男人，她的兩個(gè)女兒?不是，他們的喊聲，他們的嘆息還是從上面?zhèn)鱽怼Ｋ钜稽c(diǎn)為了這亡故的人而把他們忘記掉了。
“媽媽，天國的鐘聲響起來了!”孩子說道。“媽媽，現(xiàn)在太陽升起來了!”
這時(shí)朝她射來了一股極強(qiáng)烈的光，——孩子不見了，她升了上來——她四周很冷。她抬起自己的頭瞧了一瞧，看見她躺在教堂墳園自己孩子的墓上。但是在夢(mèng)中上帝成了支持她腿腳的力量，成為她的理智的一道光線。她跪下去，祈禱著：
“原諒我，我的上帝!我竟想讓一個(gè)永恒的魂靈不飛走，我竟會(huì)忘卻我對(duì)你給我留下的幸存者的職責(zé)!”作完這些祈禱之后，她的心似乎寬松下來。這時(shí)太陽噴薄升起，一只小鳥在她的頭上歌唱，教堂的鐘聲響起來了，像一曲晨歌。四周是圣潔的，她的心中也是同樣的圣潔!她認(rèn)識(shí)了自己的上帝，她認(rèn)識(shí)了自己的職責(zé)，在急切中她趕著回到家里。她彎身朝向自己的男人，她的熱烈、衷誠的吻攪醒了他，他們會(huì)心地、誠摯地交談。她恰如一個(gè)妻子一樣地堅(jiān)強(qiáng)、溫順，她的身上又產(chǎn)生了巨大的信心。
上帝的意志永遠(yuǎn)是最好的!
男人問她：“你從哪里一下子就得到了這種力量、這種慰人的精神?”
這時(shí)她吻了他，吻了她的兩個(gè)孩子：
“我在孩子的墳?zāi)鼓抢铮瑥纳系勰抢锏玫降摹?rdquo;
墓里的孩子英文版
The Child in the Grave
It was a very sad day, and every heart in the house felt the deepest grief; for the youngest child, a boy of four years old, the joy and hope of his parents, was dead.
Two daughters, the elder of whom was going to be confirmed, still remained: they were both good, charming girls; but the lost child always seems the dearest; and when it is youngest, and a son, it makes the trial still more heavy. The sisters mourned as young hearts can mourn, and were especially grieved at the sight of their parents' sorrow. The father's heart was bowed down, but the mother sunk completely under the deep grief. Day and night she had attended to the sick child, nursing and carrying it in her bosom, as a part of herself. She could not realize the fact that the child was dead, and must be laid in a coffin to rest in the ground. She thought God could not take her darling little one from her; and when it did happen notwithstanding her hopes and her belief, and there could be no more doubt on the subject, she said in her feverish agony, "God does not know it. He has hard-hearted ministering spirits on earth, who do according to their own will, and heed not a mother's prayers." Thus in her great grief she fell away from her faith in God, and dark thoughts arose in her mind respecting death and a future state. She tried to believe that man was but dust, and that with his life all existence ended. But these doubts were no support to her, nothing on which she could rest, and she sunk into the fathomless depths of despair. In her darkest hours she ceased to weep, and thought not of the young daughters who were still left to her. The tears of her husband fell on her forehead, but she took no notice of him; her thoughts were with her dead child; her whole existence seemed wrapped up in the remembrances of the little one and of every innocent word it had uttered.
The day of the little child's funeral came. For nights previously the mother had not slept, but in the morning twilight of this day she sunk from weariness into a deep sleep; in the mean time the coffin was carried into a distant room, and there nailed down, that she might not hear the blows of the hammer. When she awoke, and wanted to see her child, the husband, with tears, said, "We have closed the coffin; it was necessary to do so."
"When God is so hard to me, how can I expect men to be better?" she said with groans and tears.
The coffin was carried to the grave, and the disconsolate mother sat with her young daughters. She looked at them, but she saw them not; for her thoughts were far away from the domestic hearth. She gave herself up to her grief, and it tossed her to and fro, as the sea tosses a ship without compass or rudder. So the day of the funeral passed away, and similar days followed, of dark, wearisome pain. With tearful eyes and mournful glances, the sorrowing daughters and the afflicted husband looked upon her who would not hear their words of comfort; and, indeed, what comforting words could they speak, when they were themselves so full of grief? It seemed as if she would never again know sleep, and yet it would have been her best friend, one who would have strengthened her body and poured peace into her soul. They at last persuaded her to lie down, and then she would lie as still as if she slept.
One night, when her husband listened, as he often did, to her breathing, he quite believed that she had at length found rest and relief in sleep. He folded his arms and prayed, and soon sunk himself into healthful sleep; therefore he did not notice that his wife arose, threw on her clothes, and glided silently from the house, to go where her thoughts constantly lingered- to the grave of her child. She passed through the garden, to a path across a field that led to the churchyard. No one saw her as she walked, nor did she see any one; for her eyes were fixed upon the one object of her wanderings. It was a lovely starlight night in the beginning of September, and the air was mild and still. She entered the churchyard, and stood by the little grave, which looked like a large nosegay of fragrant flowers. She sat down, and bent her head low over the grave, as if she could see her child through the earth that covered him- her little boy, whose smile was so vividly before her, and the gentle expression of whose eyes, even on his sick-bed, she could not forget. How full of meaning that glance had been, as she leaned over him, holding in hers the pale hand which he had no longer strength to raise! As she had sat by his little cot, so now she sat by his grave; and here she could weep freely, and her tears fell upon it.
"Thou wouldst gladly go down and be with thy child," said a voice quite close to her,- a voice that sounded so deep and clear, that it went to her heart.
She looked up, and by her side stood a man wrapped in a black cloak, with a hood closely drawn over his face; but her keen glance could distinguish the face under the hood. It was stern, yet awakened confidence, and the eyes beamed with youthful radiance.
"Down to my child," she repeated; and tones of despair and entreaty sounded in the words.
"Darest thou to follow me?" asked the form. "I am Death."
She bowed her head in token of assent. Then suddenly it appeared as if all the stars were shining with the radiance of the full moon on the many-colored flowers that decked the grave. The earth that covered it was drawn back like a floating drapery. She sunk down, and the specter covered her with a black cloak; night closed around her, the night of death. She sank deeper than the spade of the sexton could penetrate, till the churchyard became a roof above her. Then the cloak was removed, and she found herself in a large hall, of wide-spreading dimensions, in which there was a subdued light, like twilight, reigning, and in a moment her child appeared before her, smiling, and more beautiful than ever; with a silent cry she pressed him to her heart. A glorious strain of music sounded- now distant, now near. Never had she listened to such tones as these; they came from beyond a large dark curtain which separated the regions of death from the land of eternity.
"My sweet, darling mother," she heard the child say. It was the well-known, beloved voice; and kiss followed kiss, in boundless delight. Then the child pointed to the dark curtain. "There is nothing so beautiful on earth as it is here. Mother, do you not see them all? Oh, it is happiness indeed."
But the mother saw nothing of what the child pointed out, only the dark curtain. She looked with earthly eyes, and could not see as the child saw,- he whom God has called to be with Himself. She could hear the sounds of music, but she heard not the words, the Word in which she was to trust.
"I can fly now, mother," said the child; "I can fly with other happy children into the presence of the Almighty. I would fain fly away now; but if you weep for me as you are weeping now, you may never see me again. And yet I would go so gladly. May I not fly away? And you will come to me soon, will you not, dear mother?"
"Oh, stay, stay!" implored the mother; "only one moment more; only once more, that I may look upon thee, and kiss thee, and press thee to my heart."
Then she kissed and fondled her child. Suddenly her name was called from above; what could it mean? her name uttered in a plaintive voice.
"Hearest thou?" said the child. "It is my father who calls thee." And in a few moments deep sighs were heard, as of children weeping.
"They are my sisters," said the child. "Mother, surely you have not forgotten them."
And then she remembered those she left behind, and a great terror came over her. She looked around her at the dark night. Dim forms flitted by. She seemed to recognize some of them, as they floated through the regions of death towards the dark curtain, where they vanished. Would her husband and her daughters flit past? No; their sighs and lamentations still sounded from above; and she had nearly forgotten them, for the sake of him who was dead.
"Mother, now the bells of heaven are ringing," said the child; "mother, the sun is going to rise."
An overpowering light streamed in upon her, the child had vanished, and she was being borne upwards. All around her became cold; she lifted her head, and saw that she was lying in the churchyard, on the grave of her child. The Lord, in a dream, had been a guide to her feet and a light to her spirit. She bowed her knees, and prayed for forgiveness. She had wished to keep back a soul from its immortal flight; she had forgotten her duties towards the living who were left her. And when she had offered this prayer, her heart felt lighter. The sun burst forth, over her head a little bird caroled his song, and the church-bells sounded for the early service. Everything around her seemed holy, and her heart was chastened. She acknowledged the goodness of God, she acknowledged the duties she had to perform, and eagerly she returned home. She bent over her husband, who still slept; her warm, devoted kiss awakened him, and words of heartfelt love fell from the lips of both. Now she was gentle and strong as a wife can be; and from her lips came the words of faith: "Whatever He doeth is right and best."
Then her husband asked, "From whence hast thou all at once derived such strength and comforting faith?"
And as she kissed him and her children, she said, "It came from God, through my child in the grave."
墓里的孩子讀后感
悲哀的母親從中獲得了安慰和力量故事表面上歌頌了上帝的“愛”和善良的意旨，但真正描寫的是母親的偉大，她既要鐘愛死去的孩子，也要保護(hù)活著的親人，她得在“愛”和“人生的責(zé)任”之間來掙扎，來保持平衡。上帝只是一個(gè)心理的寄托，母愛是偉大和永恒的，母愛強(qiáng)大到你無法想象，所以小朋友們不，請(qǐng)一定要好好珍惜一位愛你的母親，不要再讓她傷心難過。
墓里的孩子作者
安徒生不只是一個(gè)童話作家，他也寫過詩、小說、劇本和游記，其中也有不少的名篇。安徒生在童話方面的作品，對(duì)世界兒童文學(xué)創(chuàng)作的發(fā)展所起的影響是無法估量的。他的童話作品受到了世界廣大讀者的喜愛，這種成功主要是因?yàn)樗淖髌繁憩F(xiàn)出一種民主主義精神和人道主義精神，這在當(dāng)時(shí)具有一定的積極意義，因?yàn)樗膶?duì)立面是封建主義的殘暴和新興資產(chǎn)階級(jí)的無情剝削，因而在一定程度上表達(dá)出人民的思想感情。另一方面，安徒生在語言風(fēng)格上具有高度的創(chuàng)造性，在作品的內(nèi)容上又是一個(gè)偉大的現(xiàn)實(shí)主義者。這兩種結(jié)合使他的作品在兒童文學(xué)中放出異彩，開辟出一條新的道路。