安徒生童話故事第60篇：完全是真的“There Is No Doubt About It
引導(dǎo)語：真真假假，世上有太多的東西我們?cè)婋y于分辨的，下面是《完全是真的》的安徒生童話與英文版，歡迎大家閱讀。
“那真是一件可怕的事情!”母雞說。她講這話的地方不是城里發(fā)生這個(gè)故事的那個(gè)區(qū)域�！澳鞘请u屋里的一件可怕的事情!我今夜不敢一個(gè)人睡覺了!真是幸運(yùn)，我們今晚大伙兒都棲在一根棲木上!”于是她講了一個(gè)故事，弄得別的母雞羽毛根根豎起，而公雞的冠卻垂下來了。這完全是真的!
不過我們還是從頭開始吧。事情是發(fā)生在城里另一區(qū)的雞屋里面。太陽落下了，所有的母雞都飛上了棲木。有一只母雞，羽毛很白，腿很短;她總是按規(guī)定的數(shù)目下蛋。在各方面說起來，她是一只很有身份的母雞。當(dāng)她飛到棲木上去的時(shí)候，她用嘴啄了自己幾下，弄得有一根小羽毛落下來了。
“事情就是這樣!”她說，“我越把自己啄得厲害，我就越漂亮!”她說這話的神情是很快樂的，因?yàn)樗悄鸽u中一個(gè)心情愉快的人物，雖然我剛才說過她是一只很有身份的雞。不久她就睡著了。
周圍是一起漆黑。母雞跟母雞站在一邊，不過離她最近的那只母雞卻睡不著。她在靜聽——一只耳朵進(jìn)，一只耳朵出;一個(gè)人要想在世界上安靜地活下去，就非得如此做不可。不過她禁不住要把她所聽到的事情告訴她的鄰居：
“你聽到過剛才的話嗎?我不愿意把名字指出來。不過有一只母雞，她為了要好看，啄掉自己的羽毛。假如我是公雞的話，我才真要瞧不起她呢�！�
在這些母雞的上面住著一只貓頭鷹和她的丈夫以及孩子。她這一家人的耳朵都很尖：鄰居剛才所講的話，他們都聽見了。他們翻翻眼睛;于是貓頭鷹媽媽就拍拍翅膀說：wωw奇Qìsuu書com網(wǎng)
“不要聽那類的話!不過我想你們都聽到了剛才的話吧?我是親耳聽到過的;你得聽了很多才能記住。有一只母雞完全忘記了母雞所應(yīng)當(dāng)有的禮貌：她甚至把她的羽毛都啄掉了，好讓公雞把她看個(gè)仔細(xì)�！�
“PRENEZGARDEAUXEN?eANTS，”①貓頭鷹爸爸說。“這不是孩子們可以聽的話�！�
“我還是要把這話告訴對(duì)面的貓頭鷹!她是一個(gè)很正派的貓頭鷹，值得來往!”于是貓頭鷹媽媽就飛走了。
“呼!呼!嗚——呼!”他們倆都喊起來，而喊聲就被下邊鴿子籠里面的鴿子聽見了�！澳銈兟牭竭^那樣的話沒有?呼!呼!有一只母雞，她把她的羽毛都啄掉了，想討好公雞!她一定會(huì)凍死的——如果她現(xiàn)在還沒有死的話。嗚——呼!”
“在什么地方?在什么地方?”鴿子咕咕地叫著。
“在對(duì)面的那個(gè)屋子里!我?guī)缀蹩烧f是親眼看見的。把它講出來真不像話，不過那完全是真的!”
“真的!真的!每個(gè)字都是真的!”所有的鴿子說，同時(shí)向下邊的養(yǎng)雞場(chǎng)咕咕地叫：“有一只母雞，也有人說是兩只，她們都把所有的`羽毛都啄掉，為的是要與眾不同，借此引起公雞的注意。這是一種冒險(xiǎn)的玩意兒，因?yàn)檫@樣她們就容易傷風(fēng)，結(jié)果一定會(huì)發(fā)高熱死掉。她們兩位現(xiàn)在都死了�！�
“醒來呀!醒來呀!”公雞大叫著，同時(shí)向圍墻上飛去。他的眼睛仍然帶著睡意，不過他仍然在大叫。”三只母雞因?yàn)榕c一只公雞在愛情上發(fā)生不幸，全都死去了。她們把她們的羽毛啄得精光。這是一件很丑的事情。我不愿意把它關(guān)在心里;讓大家都知道它吧!”
“讓大家都知道它吧!”蝙蝠說。于是母雞叫，公雞啼�！白尨蠹叶贾浪�!讓大家都知道它吧!”于是這個(gè)故事就從這個(gè)雞屋傳到那個(gè)雞屋，最后它回到它原來所傳出的那個(gè)地方去。
這故事變成："五只母雞把她們的羽毛都啄得精光，為的是要表示出她們之中誰因?yàn)楹湍侵还u失了戀而變得最消瘦。后來她們相互啄得流血，弄得五只雞全都死掉。這使得她們的家庭蒙受羞辱，她們的主人蒙受極大的損失。”
那只落掉了一根羽毛的母雞當(dāng)然不知道這個(gè)故事就是她自己的故事。因?yàn)樗且恢缓苡猩矸莸哪鸽u，所以她就說：
“我瞧不起那些母雞;不過像這類的賊東西有的是!我們不應(yīng)該把這類事兒掩藏起來。我盡我的力量使這故事在報(bào)紙上發(fā)表，讓全國(guó)都知道。那些母雞活該倒霉!她們的家庭也活該倒霉!”
這故事終于在報(bào)紙上被刊登出來了。這完全是真的：一根小小的羽毛可以變成五只母雞。
①這是法文，意義是“提防孩子們聽到”，在歐洲人的眼中，貓頭鷹是一種很聰明的鳥兒。它是鳥類中的所謂“上流社會(huì)人士”，故此講法文。
完全是真的英文版：
“There Is No Doubt About It.”
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.
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.
“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.
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.”
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!” said father owl; “children should not hear such things.”
“But I must tell our neighbour owl about it; she is such an estimable owl to talk to.” And with that she flew away.
“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!”
“Where? where?” cooed the doves.
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.
“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.”
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.”
It got into the papers, it was printed; and there is no doubt about it, one little feather may easily grow into five hens.
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