Truyện cụt “Cô bé nhỏ chào bán diêm” bởi vì Tiếng Anh
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Bạn đang được lúc nào xúc động với 1 anh hùng nhập truyện cổ tích? Tôi tin yêu chắc hẳn rằng rằng không ít người dường như không núm được nước đôi mắt Khi gọi “Cô bé nhỏ chào bán diêm”. Đây là truyện cổ tích tự mái ấm văn người Đan Mạch Hans Christian Andersen sáng sủa tác kể về một cô bé nhỏ nghèo đói đau khổ cần chuồn chào bán diêm đằm thắm mùa ướp đông lạnh lẽo và kể từ giã cõi đời nhập tối Giáng Sinh.
Truyện phổ biến không những cũng chính vì tính thảm kịch của chính nó mà còn phải cũng chính vì vẻ đẹp nhất của trí tưởng tượng. Tưởng tượng rất có thể đưa đến cho tới tất cả chúng ta sự tự do, niềm yên ủi và giảm sút sự thống khổ. Nhưng qua loa này cũng nhắc tất cả chúng ta về trách cứ nhiệm của tôi so với những mãnh đời xấu số.
Dưới đó là mẩu truyện Cô bé nhỏ chào bán diêm giờ đồng hồ Anh, hãy xem thêm trải qua không ít phiên và coi video clip nhằm bắt nội dung mẩu truyện trước lúc gọi phiên bản giờ đồng hồ Việt.
The Little Match Girl
It was sánh terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she’d had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to tướng her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she’d not been able to tướng find again, and a boy had run rẩy off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And sánh the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and xanh rớt with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.
Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year’s eve. Yes, she thought of that!
In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street kêu ca the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to tướng go home page, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home page, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.
Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, lượt thích a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to tướng the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to tướng warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.
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She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent lượt thích a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to tướng the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful kêu ca the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant’s home page. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures lượt thích those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.
“Now someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to tướng God.
She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.
“Grandmother!” cried the child. “Oh, take má with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish lượt thích the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!”
And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to tướng keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter kêu ca daylight. Grandmother had never been sánh grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.
But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to tướng death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year’s sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.
“She wanted to tướng warm herself,” the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.
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