为您找到与小情歌英文版歌曲名字相关的共200个结果:
导语:《小星星》源自英国传统儿歌《Twinkle Twinkle Little Star》,其英文版本的歌词是?以下是读文网小编给大家带来英文歌曲小星星英文歌词,供大家参阅!
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
看过小星星英文歌词
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歌手介绍:风靡世界乐坛的BOSSA NOVA(巴萨诺瓦),是融合了巴西桑巴音乐的热情奔放、轻快律动和美国西岸冷爵士的优雅悠扬、孤傲散淡的特性的一种“新派音乐”。其高贵优雅、慷懒闲惬的神韵,不可比拟,无法搭售模仿。它秉持率性风格,天然去雕饰,始终游离在众芳之外,一枝独秀,是当今音乐时尚的标志。
演唱:Ana Terra Blanco
WALK THE ROAD OF LOVE(小情歌)
作曲:吴青峰
作词:Marcia Motta Almeida
制作/改编:Flavio Mendes
演唱:Ana Terra Blanco
I can not explain the way I feel for you
That is because you don't know what you did
How could you come that day into my life like that
Please walk the road of my love now
---
I like to walk around the fields alone
To keep alive the thoughts of you
No one that all could do that things you did you know
Now is so true I love you
Tell me now how could you come into my life not to stay
and now you wanna to go you have the key to my heart
now and I'll wait for the moment to walk the road of love
how could you come into my life not to stay
and now you wanna to go you have the key to my heart
now and I'll wait for the moment to walk the road of love
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《big big world》的中文翻译是《大大世界》,这首歌的英文歌词写的通俗易懂,值得每个人去深思。下面就和读文网小编一起来看看《大大世界》英文歌词吧。
32岁的Emilia是来自瑞典的漂亮姑娘,全家现定居于美国纽约市。父亲是爵士乐乐手,他对Emilia 的音乐影响是不言而喻的,10岁时她便进入了斯德哥尔摩的音乐学校就读, 潜心古典课程,在学校期间 Emilia自组乐团演唱灵魂乐。18岁时,她便开始了自己风格独特的词曲创作, 从一个小姑娘的视角和观念出发,记述豆蔻年华的女孩敏感、自信、迷惑的种种的不服输, 她的声音更是灵性毕现又不乏童真。 因为乐坛这种小姑娘的情调早已很鲜有,所以Emilia就显得格外吸引人。
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下面小编给大家介绍一些好听的英文歌曲名字,希望大家会喜欢。
1. it’s my life–bon jovi曾用来做CS的MTV背景音乐。
2. that’s why(you go away)–meachael learns to rock半路在一家美发店的门前听到了that’s why (you go away)的钢琴版!!! 感觉很好,这样听起来That’s why就更经典了! (放的声音越大越有感觉哦)
3. you can’t say(韩剧”爱上女主播”主题曲)相信大家对这首歌不会感到陌生了哦!!!每当旋律一起就能体会其中的柔情…
4. yesterday yes a day 温柔醇厚的声音,静静地用心体会,很舒服的21岁的挪威女孩marlin,自己写歌自己唱,一首充满浪漫气息的法国歌曲,就像爱人在你耳 边轻轻呢喃,超好听的…
5. heal the world–meachael kjackson他是疯狂热爱和不羁职责的承受者,年轻的巨富,心理怪异而各声纯洁的奇人,他富于创造,不向任何一个流派*拢,虽然,杰克逊现在的形象不 好,但他曾经为世界的慈善事业作了很大的贡献,这首歌也正是他心意的表现吧…最起码他在音乐方面的高度是谁都无法否认的。
好听的英文歌曲名字
6. far away from home–groove coverage德国新晋乐队,这首歌已被众多知名DJ誉为当今舞曲最为精华的传世之作,听了不下几百遍了,旋律好的很,女声好的很…
7. knocking on heaven’s door–guns n’ roses(“野蛮师姐”主题曲)艾薇儿翻唱的和枪花版的都给人一种爽歪的感觉,当然女生版的更加恬静,睡觉之前是要听的奥。
8. imagine–john lennon约翰列侬是全世界最成功的摇滚乐队“甲壳虫”(或叫披头士)(beatles)的灵魂人物,死于1980年12月8日,是被一名狂热的歌 迷****打死的,他的死震惊了世界,他在六十年代吸毒,目无宗教和governme-nt,在七十年代致力研究东方宗教和宣扬童话般的爱(有一颗小星星 是以他的名字命名的),这声音听来象预言者的祈祷,而歌词依然是固执的理想,或许列侬所要求的泰国绝对,太过纯洁,但作为梦,难道你我就不曾有过吗?
9. yesterday–beatles这么经典的还说什么呢,电台点播率已经超过一亿次了,没听过的太逊了。
10. let it be–beatles昔日创下了榜史纪录,也是Beatles解散时成员们的心态写照。有时候生命的意义在于过程,至于结果就让它Let it be…
11. don’t cry–guns n’ roses这首歌曾唱哭了千万人。总是能够触痛了心底最软的地方,心抽痛着,眼圈红了,却没有眼泪渗出,每多听一次就多一次的依恋…
12. fade to black–METAllic金属乐队也有很经典歌曲,相信国内有好多人都是听了这首歌的前奏才去学吉他的!METALLICA经典中的经典,也是METALLICA饱受争议的作品,因为当时有乐迷自杀就是出于这首歌,胆小别听哦~
13. dreaming my dream–cranberries有着王菲一样变幻倚俪的唱腔,高雅离开了原本浩渺的苍穹来到人间,它带着冷漠的美艳,但又说着人身上的变动和永恒,爱 尔兰的卡百利乐队就这样汲取了精灵与传说的浩渺气质,沟通了人间和天空的美,把人的故事,爱情,历史,死亡,社会都融进那飘忽而真切的女声中…(卡百利, 本是蔓声浆果的藤蔓)
14. dying in the sun–cranberries不断地重复着放这首歌,简短迂回的旋律,简短迂回的歌词。平躺在这样的歌里,晕乎乎的,渴望在阳光下睡死…
15. never grow old–cranberries 最近常听朋友们说时间过得好快~! 感觉自己在一天一天的虚度光阴! 不由得想起了这支歌~!
16. the girl is mine–meachael jackson.纯洁的仿佛童话,干净的让人不敢呼吸…
17. delicious way–仓木麻衣。我本人也十分仇恨日本人的,但是听到这么纯洁的歌曲感觉到音乐真的是没有国界的哎~~
18. under the sea小美人鱼(the little mermaid)插曲,可总感觉张邵晗唱的更有活力。再听听原唱的,就知道东西方文化的差异在哪里了。
19. fighter–Christina 厚重有力的嗓音穿透着我的耳膜,装饰着闪亮碎钻的眼眸冲击着我的视网膜…希望有一天,我能够成为那个fighter… 蛮有爆发力的一首歌。
20. without you–mariah carey我喜欢的歌星!因为她在唱功方面显得极为细腻,而且她的声线真的是性感迷人而且非常有爆发力和感染力…~~这是高音上唯一可与i will always love you媲美的歌,下面还有一首两人合唱的,绝对体现唱功哦~~
21. when you believe–mariah carey n’ whitney houston不多说了,任何人都唱不成这样的。
22. Crying in the Rain大概算的上是欧美最具生命力的情歌之一了,这首出自民谣女歌手Carole King的作品对原来舒缓深情的作品来了一次颠覆性的改造…
23. never say goodbye–Hayley Westenra充满曼陀铃和竖琴声音的歌曲当中透显出一个宁静而美丽的少女形象,歌曲是从爱尔兰传统歌曲中改编过来,Hayley Westenra的声音如同丝线一般,在演唱技巧上更已达到完美的境地,而嗓音天生的优美更是让人不得不赞叹和艳羡。
24. Sugar Ray’s Someday。Sugar Ray(据说应该翻译作“拔丝”乐队-_-bbb),他们的音乐风格用一个字就可以形容——Summer,他们只在夏天出片,歌儿一听就让人想起夏天—— 总是阳光明媚、活泼愉快。与此相反的,他们的歌词却是比较深的,那个身上有着13个纹身、英俊得完全不像个rock band主唱的Mark McGrath经常用很夸张的肢体语言在MTV中摇摆,加上十分十分正宗的传统摇滚式配器,恐怕在今天活着的乐队中找不出第二个这样的band。
25. Iris– Goo Goo Dolls清脆急促的吉他solo,John Rzeznik饱含沧桑的低沉嗓音,对世事、爱情满腹的疑问,后面的爆发,“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am!” 这是有着无穷韵味的箴言。
26. Mystical Machine Gun–Kula Shaker比较难得的是,Kula Shaker的音乐受了很多东方思想的影响,这一点同时表现在歌词、音乐和配器之中。乐队唯一真正意义上的专辑就是《Peasants, Pigs & Astronauts》专辑干净的声音,迷幻的吉他,如印度梵音般的和声,充满现场感的录音,总之在当时背景下,属于绝对的异类。
27. Elemental–tears for fears.其实只是主唱oland Orzab一个人而已,整张专辑所有词曲、每一轨录音(器乐、主唱、和声)全部出自这家伙一人之手(口),真是吓了一跳(原来世界上真的有全才啊)!
28. gone away–the off spring是一个比较有争议的乐队。跟99%的美国摇滚乐队一样,也是来自学校同学的组合,经过很长时间的地下活动,终于走到地上,给人留下最深刻印象 就是主唱Bryan Holland的十分金属化的硬朗狂放的唱腔,歌词有着对世事无情的玩弄和嘲讽。
29. A Question Of Lust–peche Mode很容易和“冷”这个字联系起来,冷冰冰的纯电子音乐,冷冷的唱腔,冷僻的歌词,似乎特别适合目前这个季节来听…
30. this is how we do it蛮欢快的一首现代英文混音dj舞曲,偶个人比较喜欢。
31. boom boom boom各位爱跳舞的朋友,这就是你们的音乐,做为音乐和舞蹈的信徒,你们起床要放的音乐。
32. Earth song–meachael jackson请保护大自然!~ 崇高的敬意!~ 看过mv后真的感觉心里堵堵的…
33. everybody dance now相信看过韩国综艺节目情书的朋友不会陌生吧~里面好多背景音乐就是用的这个,尤其是uncle shin的抖动dance甩你的双手,很简单的一个步骤,音乐炸进你的头,活着就要开心些嘛!!!顺便说一下, 我超级喜欢那个张英兰~~~~
34. the day you went away–M2M是当之无愧的小甜甜咯,相信谁都不会忍心伤害这样的女生,不过歌词有点伤感,我们从来都不知道珍惜所拥有的直到永远的失去它,将如何承受这种痛苦,现在,我不得不说,我是真的真的失去了你…
35. when you say nothing at all–Krauss多次被评为世界最美的女声,坐拥11座格莱美奖,被无数人翻唱过… 男孩地带的也同样也是不可错过的哦!
36. hero–enrique iglesias出生在马德里,有着西班牙人独有的深邃的双眸,冷峻而又性感的脸庞,富有磁性的嗓音,再加上他那令人神魂颠倒的外表…
37. god is a girl–groove coverage从个人角度看sweetbox和groove coverage是给我印象最深的两个女唱乐队,下面还有几首歌都是她们的,很喜欢女主唱有些慵懒而很清脆的声音,他们的风格…喜欢听这种节奏感强,比较 热闹的歌曲。觉得这个乐队的风格还是挺新鲜的,也比较大众化,应该会有不少朋友会喜欢,因为大众不等于庸俗。
38. she–groove coverage
39. can’t get over you–groove coverage
40. 7 years and 50 days–groove coverage
41. encore une fois–helene segara一首抒情法语歌,哀而充满无奈的歌,你能体会到它的忧伤,也许有一天 我会离开你,途跋涉寻找真的自己也许有一天…也许有一天…
42. je m appelle helene–helene rolls听了首法语歌后觉得法语太美了,让人感觉说法语的人嘴上摸了奶油,…于记忆深处,要我找到简单的爱情,于我的爱情,歌词中有着淡淡的伤感…
43. here i am–bryan adams那是布赖恩亚当斯的作品,我想大家应该都听过他那首绝对经典的歌“( Everything I Do )吧,这个帅帅的沧桑男人的声音是谁都无法抗拒的哦。
44. Everything i do–bryan adams不多说了,绝对经典中的经典。
45. all that you can’t leave behind–毫无疑问,U2是80年代英国最受欢迎的摇滚乐团,不过我个人只喜欢这一首,具体也说不出为什么,可能感觉声音和旋律搭配的很棒吧~~
46. big big world–Emilia看上去是一个爱整洁的乖女孩,尤其在唱“Big,Big World”这样的慢歌时,她显得十分纯情而古典。目前Emilia的唱片在瑞典已卖过了3白金的数量。而首支单曲“Big,BigWorld”则成为了 瑞典历史上流行速度最快的一支…
47. right here waiting–rachard max这是一首很经典的老歌,歌唱了刻骨铭心的爱情… 这是我曾经最爱的一首老歌,相信每个人也都听过无数遍,但依然是…
48. stay–williams(野蛮师姐主题曲)特别特别特别的欢快,每次不知道为了什么一心烦就不由自主想听这首歌,连我们宿舍一个平时不怎么愿意听歌的哥们也喜欢上了这首…
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《小情歌》是由吴青峰作词作曲,苏打绿演唱的一首歌曲,出自专辑《小宇宙》。2007年6月16日晚,华语乐坛最具影响力的音乐颁奖礼“第18届台湾金曲奖颁奖礼”在台北小巨蛋剧场隆重举行,吴青峰所做《小情歌》获得最佳作曲奖。下面是读文网小编为大家带来《小情歌》英文版,希望大家喜欢!
作曲:吴青峰
作词:Marcia Motta Almeida
制作/改编:Flavio Mendes
演唱:Ana Terra Blanco
I can not explain the way I feel for you
That is because you don't know what you did
How could you come that day into my life like that
Please walk the road of my love now
---
I like to walk around the fields alone
To keep alive the thoughts of you
No one that all could do that things you did you know
Now is so true I love you
Tell me now how could you come into my life not to stay
and now you wanna to go you have the key to my heart
now and I'll wait for the moment to walk the road of love
how could you come into my life not to stay
and now you wanna to go you have the key to my heart
now and I'll wait for the moment to walk the road of love
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好听的英文歌女生唱的听过了吗,下面是小编收藏的20的英文歌女生唱的,希望你们喜欢。
1、 Cross Every River - Maria Arredondo
2、 A Little Love - 冯曦妤
3、 Just One Last Dance - sarah connor ( 经典)
4、 dying in the sun - 小红莓乐队 (很好听,也很经典,不知道你听过没……)
5、 If You Want Me - Glen Hansard (轻轻的调调,一听就爱上……)
6、 Like a Song - Lenka (诡异的音乐,空洞的女声,安静又悲伤的英文歌……很好听哦!)
7、 Sometimes When We Touch - 奥莉花 (空灵的声音,轻轻吟唱)
8、 False, False - Cara Dillon (特别的转音~ ~给人另一种小清新)
9、 when there was me and you - gabriella
10、 when you told me you loved me------Jessica (伤感,凄美,无奈。。。)
11、 Fairy tale-----toni braxton (原来童话里的爱情终究只是童话)
12、 cry on my shoulder----Bonnie Raitt (心累了的时候,听听这歌,安慰啊)
13、 here in my heart-----plus one (男生对心爱女生的深情告白)
14、 stay------Tonya mitchell (虽然爱远去了,曾经的感觉却依然刻骨铭心)
15、 it's not goodbye (很好听的一首歌,同样也很伤感)
16、 soledad -------westlife (被SHE翻唱了,就是“紫藤花”)
17、 adagio------lara (夜深人静的时候听这首歌,真的会流泪)
18、 that's why you go away----迈克学摇滚(这首绝对不比后街,西城的歌差!)
19、 Unbreak my heart----toni braxton (沙哑的嗓音配上伤感的旋律,T,T)
20、 insatiable------Darren (暧昧的嗓音,缠绵的旋律,爱情这东西。。)
21、 eternally -------loona (好爱这样的旋律!一听前奏就知道是好歌!)
22、 小红莓的《Dying in the sun》确实不错,再试试这些~
23、 Alanis Morissette《That I would be good》
24、 Alicia Keys《Diary》
25、 Avril Lavigne《Why》,《Knockin' on heaven's door》(翻唱Bob Dylan的同名歌曲~)
26、 Chara《My way》
27、 CLANNAD《I will find you》
28、 Cyndi Lauper《Time after time》,《Who let in the rain》
29、 Enya《May it be》,《Only time》
30、 keep believing -----Aaron carter (送给那些受过伤的女孩,永远不要停止梦想!)
31、 indescribable night ----katest john (很适合夜晚独自散步的时候听)
32、 any one of us --------gareth gates(这首虽不算伤感,但是真的舍不得丢掉)
33、 night prayer ------iridio (这条孤独之路还要走多久?何时才能找到那颗最亮的星星?)
34、 lullaby for lucas -----standfast (很轻柔的女声,摇篮曲!睡前必听)
35、 dry your eyes ----- 3rd storee (超深情的小男孩,很纯真的感觉)
36、 his mistakes -------usher (个人认为是亚瑟小子最棒的一首歌)
37、 tonight i wanna cry ------keith urban (今晚 我想哭泣。。)
38、 someone's watching over me -------Hilary duff (我知道总有一个人会在那里支持我)
39、 Honesty ----Billy joel (“真诚”是一个多么孤独的词,每个人似乎都那么虚伪。)
40、 a perfect indian-------Sinead O'connor (空灵,能穿透心灵,触动你心底最深那根弦. )
41、 back at one------brain mcknight (我找了很久的一首歌,要是不好听,我也不会找)
42、 Sarah McLachlan《Angel》
43、 Shania Twain《You're still the one》,《From this moment on》,《You've got a way》
44、 Sinead O'Connor《A perfect Indian》
45、 Tori Amos《Smells like teen spirit》(翻唱自NIRVANA的同名曲目~)...
46、 shape of my heart-----sting (《这个杀手不太冷》主题曲,超级感人)
47、 if you want me ---- 电影《once》插曲 我坚信你会喜欢!
48、 sorry seems to be the hardest word ----blue (经典之作,不用多介绍了)
49、 are you the one ------- Timo tolkiki (很凄美..听了就知道了)
50、 the best in me ----blue (朗朗上口)
51、 no one else comes close----backstreet boys (后街不算出名的一首,但真的好听)
52、 to fall in love again ------ Jessica simpson (听一次 哭一次 T,T)
53、 forever at your feet (歌曲里的雷声和雨声配上女歌手悲伤地嗓音,很有意境。。)
54、 my last serenade ----joey moe (听了一万遍,还是会被感动! 好痴情的男人。。)
55、 calling ----- geri halliwell (伴随着海风飘来的清新女声)
56、 you don't miss your water ----craig david (只有等井都干枯了,你才会怀念那些水)
57、 one more time ----laura pausini (震撼了,原来歌曲可以如此伤感)
58、 my all ----Mariah carey (我认为这是天后玛利亚凯利最好听的一首)
59、 if you believe -----rachael lampa (无意中在电影《初恋的回忆》听来的,很喜欢)
60、 never meant to be----samantha mumba (如果注定不能在一起,又何必开始?)
看了“好听的英文歌女生唱的”
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许多人都会喜欢听欧美的英文歌曲,有时候即使听不懂歌词也很享受节奏,下面是读文网小编收藏的好听的英文歌曲排行榜,希望你们喜欢这些英文歌曲。
1. Real Estate, In Mind
“不动产”乐队的专辑《在心中》
Release date: March 17
发行日期:3月17日
Label: Domino
厂牌:多米诺
Why we're excited: On records like 2014's Atlas and 2011's Days, New Jersey indie-rock standard-bearers Real Estate established a brand of Feelies-indebted songcraft. Judging from singles like "Darling" and "Stained Glass," In Mind will pull from the same hazy, tuneful playbook.
关注理由:在2014年的《地图集》和2011年的《日子》等专辑中,新泽西独立摇滚界的领袖乐队“不动产”打响了他们饱含深情的唱功招牌。从《亲爱的》和《彩色玻璃》这些单曲来看,专辑《在心中》也会同样的朦胧而优美。
2. Spoon, Hot Thoughts
“勺子乐队”的专辑《热念》
Release date: March 17
发行日期:3月17日
Label: Matador
厂牌:斗牛士
Why we're excited: Is there a more consistent band than Spoon? The art-rock group broke into themainstream with highly hummable, The O.C. soundtrack-era singles like "The Way We Get By" and "I Turn My Camera On." Now, Spoon is back on its original label, older and wiser.
关注理由:论风格的一贯性,还有哪支乐队能比得上“勺子乐队”呢?这支艺术摇滚乐队在O.C.唱片盛行的时代凭借很易于哼唱的《我们走过的路》、《我开了相机》等单曲晋身主流乐队之列。如今,“勺子乐队”又回归到了最初的厂牌,更加老练也更加睿智。
3. Pallbearer, Heartless
“护柩者”乐队的专辑《无心》
Release date: March 24
发行日期:3月24日
Label: Profound Lore
厂牌:深远的传说
Why we're excited: After crushing fans with 2014's Foundations of Burden, these Arkansas doom-metal kings have returned.
关注理由:在2014年的专辑《负担之基》碾碎粉丝的心之后,这群来自阿肯色州的厄运金属之王又回来了。
4. Nelly Furtado, The Ride
妮莉•费塔朵的专辑《骑行》
Release date: March 31
发行日期:3月31日
Label: Nelstar
厂牌:Nelstar
Why we're excited: It's been nearly 17 years since Nelly Furtado first enchanted radio listeners with "I'm Like a Bird" and over a decade since she conquered the Billboard singles chart with the Timbaland-produced classic "Promiscuous." The 38-year-old singer continues to innovate on The Ride. She's said the album is her "hangover album".
关注理由:自妮莉•费塔朵凭借《我像一只小鸟》让收音机观众为之倾倒已有近17年,从她凭借提姆巴兰制作的经典歌曲《淫乱》征服单曲榜也已经超过10年。这位38岁的歌手在新专辑《骑行》中继续创新,据说,她将这张专辑称为自己的“宿醉专辑”。
5. At the Drive-In, in•ter a•li•a
“At the Drive-In”乐队的专辑《其中》
Release date: May 5
发行日期:5月5日
Label: Rise
厂牌:崛起
Why we're excited: After reuniting for a tour in 2012, the Texas punk band returned to the studio and picked "up where we left off." Check out the first single "Incurably Innocent" and judge for yourself.
关注理由:2012年结束巡回演唱之后,这支德克萨斯州的朋克乐队回到工作室“拾起了往昔所失”。听听第一首单曲《不可救药的天真》,自己判断一下吧。
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广义的姓名包括公民的姓氏和名字以及法人和非法人团体的名称;狭义的姓名仅指公民的姓氏和名字。为名和字的合称。那么你知道名字用英语怎么说吗?下面来学习一下吧。
a pseudonymous name;
假名字
a popular name;
通俗的名字
a new name;
新名字
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《安妮日记》是安妮·弗兰克遇难前两年藏身密室时写下的生活和情感的记录。今天读文网小编为大家带来安妮日记英文版摘抄,欢迎大家阅读!
MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942
I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. The Rin Tin Tin movie was a big hit with my classmates. I got two brooches, a bookmark and two books. I'll start by saying a few things about my school and my class, beginning with the students.
Betty Bloemendaal looks kind of poor, and I think she probably is. She lives on some obscure street in West Amsterdam, and none of us know where it is. She does very well at school, but that's because she works so hard, not because she's so smart. She's pretty quiet.
Jacqueline van Maarsen is supposedly my best friend, but I've never had a real friend. At first I thought Jacque would be one, but I was badly mistaken.
D.Q.* [* Initials have been assigned at random to those persons who prefer to remain anonymous.] is a very nervous girl who's always forgetting things, so the teachers keep assigning her extra homework as punishment. She's very kind, especially to G.Z.
E.S. talks so much it isn't funny. She's always touching your hair or fiddling with your buttons when she asks you something. They say she can't stand me, but I don't care, since I don't like her much either.
Henny Mets is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, except that she talks in a loud voice and is really childish when we're playing outdoors. Unfortunately, Henny has a girlfriend named Beppy who's a bad influence on her because she's dirty and vulgar.
J.R. - I could write a whole book about her. J. is a detestable, sneaky, stuck-up, two-faced gossip who thinks she's so grown-up. She's really got Jacque under her spell, and that's a shame. J. is easily offended, bursts into tears at the slightest thing and, to top it all off, is a terrible show-off. Miss J. always has to be right. She's very rich, and has a closet full of the most adorable dresses that are way too old for her. She thinks she's gorgeous, but she's not. J. and I can't stand each other.
Ilse Wagner is a nice girl with a cheerful disposition, but she's extremely fInicky and can spend hours moaning and groaning about something. Ilse likes me a lot. She's very smart, but lazy.
Hanneli Goslar, or Lies as she's called at school, is a bit on the strange side. She's usually shy -- outspoken at horne, but reserved around other people. She blabs whatever you tell her to her mother. But she says what she thinks, and lately I've corne to appreciate her a great deal.
Nannie van Praag-Sigaar is small, funny and sensible. I think she's nice. She's pretty smart. There isn't much else you can say about Nannie. Eefje de Jong is, in my opinion, terrific. Though she's only twelve, she's quite the lady. She acts as if I were a baby. She's also very helpful, and I like her.
G.Z. is the prettiest girl in our class. She has a nice face, but is kind of dumb. I think they're going to hold her back a year, but of course I haven't told her that.
COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE AT A LATER DATE: To my areat surprise, G.Z. wasn't held back a year after all.
And sitting next to G.Z. is the last of us twelve girls, me.
There's a lot to be said about the boys, or maybe not so much after all.
Maurice Coster is one of my many admirers, but pretty much of a pest. Sallie Springer has a filthy mind, and rumor has it that he's gone all the way. Still, I think he's terrific, because he's very funny.
Emiel Bonewit is G.Z.'s admirer, but she doesn't care. He's pretty boring. Rob Cohen used to be in love with me too, but I can't stand him anymore. He's an obnoxious, two-faced, lying, sniveling little goof who has an awfully high opinion of himself.
Max van de Velde is a farm boy from Medemblik, but eminently suitable, as Margot would say.
Herman Koopman also has a filthy mind, just like Jopie de Beer, who's a terrible flirt and absolutely girl-crazy.
Leo Blom is Jopie de Beer's best friend, but has been ruined by his dirty mind.
Albert de Mesquita came from the Montessori School and skipped a grade. He's really smart.
Leo Slager came from the same school, but isn't as smart.
Ru Stoppelmon is a short, goofy boy from Almelo who transferred to this school in the middle of the year.
C.N. does whatever he's not supposed to.
Jacques Kocernoot sits behind us, next to C., and we (G. and I) laugh ourselves silly.
Harry Schaap is the most decent boy in our class. He's nice.
Werner Joseph is nice too, but all the changes taking place lately have made him too quiet, so he seems boring. Sam Salomon is one of those tough guys from across the tracks. A real brat. (Admirer!)
Appie Riem is pretty Orthodox, but a brat too.
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《假如给我三天光明》是作者海伦·凯勒的自传,被誉为“世界文学史上无与伦比的杰作”。她以自己的经历告诫人们应珍惜生命,珍惜造物主赐予的一切。如果你想欣赏一下这篇经典名作的话,那么就不要错过下面读文网小编为大家带来假如给我三天光明完整英文版及中文翻译,希望大家喜欢!
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours.
But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry," but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. he becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It ahs often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would tech him the joys of sound.
Now and them I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friends who hadjust returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. "Nothing in particular, " she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. the panorama of color and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used only as a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president of a university I should establish a compulsory course in "How to Use Your Eyes". The professor would try to show his pupils how they could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them. He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imagining what I should most like to see if I were given the use of my eyes, say, for just three days. And while I am imagining, suppose you, too, set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had only three more days to see. If with the on-coming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
The First Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that "Window of the soul", the eye. I can only "see" through my finger tips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities by touch. I know their personalities, of course, through other means, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressed thoughts and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from a handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see into the inner nature of a friends or acquaintance/ Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbandsdo not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately "eyewitnesses" see. A given event will be "seen" in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one.
I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual's consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home. I want to see the warm colors in the rugs under my feet, the pictures on the walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest respectfully on the books in raised type which I have read, but they would be more eagerly interested in the printed books which seeing people can read, for during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been read to me have built themselves into a great shining lighthouse, revealing to me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoon of that first seeing day. I should take a long walk in the woods and intoxicate my eyes on the beauties of the world of Nature trying desperately to absorb in a few hours the vast splendor which is constantly unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my path would lie near a farm so that I might see the patient horses ploughing in the field 9perhaps I should see only a tractor!) and the serene content of men living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen, I should experience the double delight of being able to see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend the power of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, so full would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day of sight - I should arisewith the dawn and see the thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day. I should behold with awe the magnificent panorama of light with which the sun awakens the sleeping earth.
This day I should devote to a hasty glimpse of the world, past and present. I should want to see the pageant of man's progress, the kaleidoscope of the ages. How can so much be compressed into one day? Through the museums, of course. Often I have visited the New York Museum of Natural History to touch with my hands many of the objects there exhibited, butI have longed to see with my eyes the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of dinosaurs and mastodons which roamed the earth long before man appeared, with his tiny stature and powerful brain, to conquer the animal kingdom; realistic presentations of the processes of development in animals, in man, and in the implements which man has used to fashion for himself a secure home on this planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of the face of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not had the opportunity, but I am sure that many who have had the opportunity have not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who see can spend many fruitful days there, but I with my imaginary three days of sight, could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museum of Natural History reveals the material aspects of the world, so does the Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout the history of humanity the urge to artistic expression has been almost as powerful as the urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers of the Metropolitan Museum, is unfolded before me the spirit of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as expressed in their art. I know well through my hands the sculptured gods and goddesses of the ancient Nile-land. I have felt copies of Parthenon friezes, and I have sensed the rhythmic beauty of charging Athenian warriors. Apollos and Venuses and the Winged Victory of Samothrace are friends of my finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too, knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that of later generations. I have passed my hands over a plaster cast of Michelangelo's inspiring and heroic Moses; I have sensed the power of Rodin; I have been awed by the devoted spirit of Gothic wood carving. These arts which can be touched have meaning for me, but even they were meant to be
seen rather than felt, and I can only guess at the beauty which remains hidden from me. I can admire the simple lines of a Greek vase, but its figured decorations are lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight, I should try to probe into the soul of man through this art. The things I knew through touch I should now see. More splendid still, the whole magnificent world of painting would be opened to me, from the Italian Primitives, with their serene religious devotion, to the Moderns, with their feverish visions. I should look deep into the canvases of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Rembrandt. I should want to feast my eyes upon the warm colors of Veronese, study the mysteries of E1 Greco, catch a new vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon my short visit to this temple of art I should not be able to review a fraction of that great world of art which is open to you. I should be able to get only a superficial impression. Artists tell me that fordeep and true appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience to weigh the merits of line, of composition, of form and color. If I had eyes, how happily would I embark upon so fascinating a study! Yet I am told that, to many of you who have eyes to see, the world of art is a dark night,unexplored and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum, which contains the key to beauty -- a beauty so neglected. Seeing persons, however, do not need a metropolitan to find this key to beauty. The same key lies waiting in smaller museums, and in books on the shelves of even small libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening of my second day of sight I should spend at a theatre or at the movies. Even now I often attend theatrical performances of all sorts, but the action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should like to see with my own eyes the fascinating figure of Hamlet, or the gusty Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings! How I should like to follow each movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And since I could see only one play, I should be confronted by a many-horned dilemma, for there are scores of plays I should want to see. You who have eyes can see any you like. How many of you, I wonder, when you gaze at a play, a movie, or any spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restricted to the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa, although I know something of the delight of rhythm, for often I can sense the beat of music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadenced motion must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble; if this static grace can be so lovely, how much more acute must be the thrill of seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearest memories is of the time when Joseph Jefferson allowed me to touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of his beloved Rip Van Winkle. I was able to catch thus a meager glimpse of the world of drama, and I shall never forget the delight of that moment. But, oh, how much I must miss, and how much pleasure you seeing ones can derive from watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding of a dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture in mymind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or had transferred to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So, through the evening of my second imaginary day of sight, the great fingers of dramatic literature would crowd sleep from my eyes.
The Third Day
The following morning, I should again greet the dawn, anxious to discover new delights, for I am sure that, for those who have eyes which really see, the dawn of each day must be a perpetually new revelation of beauty.
This, according to the terms of my imagined miracle, is to be my third and last day of sight. I shall have no time to waste in regrets or longings; there is too much to see. The first day I devoted to my friends, animate and inanimate. The second revealed to me the history of man and Nature. Today I shall spend in the workaday world of the present, amid the haunts of men going about the business of life. And where can one find so many activities and conditions of men as in New York? So the city becomes my destination.
I start from my home in the quiet little suburb of Forest Hills, Long Island. Here , surrounded by green lawns, trees, and flowers, are neat little houses, happy with the voices and movements of wives and children, havens of peaceful rest for men who toil in the city. I drive across the lacy structure of steel which spans the East River, and I get a new and startling vision of the power and ingenuity of the mind of man. Busy boasts chug and scurry about the river - racy speed boat, stolid, snorting tugs. If I had long days of sight ahead, I should spend many of them watching the delightful activity upon the river.
I look ahead, and before me rise the fantastic towers of New York, a city that seems to have stepped from the pages of a fairy story. What an awe-inspiring sight, these glittering spires. these vast banks of stone and steel-structures such as the gods might build for themselves! This animated picture is a part of the lives of millions of people every day.
How many, I wonder, give it so much as a seconds glance? Very few, I fear, Their eyes are blind to this magnificent sight because it is so familiar to them.
I hurry to the top of one of those gigantic structures, the Empire State Building, for there , a short time ago, I "saw" the city below through the eyes of my secretary. I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality. I am sure I should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it would be a vision of another world.
Now I begin my rounds of the city. First, I stand at a busy corner, merely looking at people, trying by sight of them to understand something of their live. I see smiles, and I am happy. I see serious determination, and I am proud, I see suffering, and I am compassionate.
I stroll down Fifth Avenue. I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of colors. I am certain that the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle of which I should never tire. But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most other women -- too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass. And I am convinced, too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.
From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city-to Park Avenue, to the slums, to factories, to parks where children play. I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters. Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to my understanding of how people work and live. my heart is full of the images of people and things. My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon. Some sights are pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic. To these latter I do not shut my eyes, for they, too, are part of life. To close the eye on them is to close the heart and mind.
My third day of sight is drawing to an end. Perhaps there are many serious pursuits to which I should devote the few remaining hours, but I am afraid that on the evening of that last day I should again run away to the theater, to a hilariously funny play, so that I might appreciate the overtones of comedy in the human spirit.
At midnight my temporary respite from blindness would cease, and permanent night would close in on me again. Naturally in those three short days I should not have seen all I wanted to see. Only when darkness had again descended upon me should I realize how much I had left unseen. But my mind would be so crowded with glorious memories that I should have little time for regrets. Thereafter the touch of every object would bring a glowing memory of how that object looked.
Perhaps this short outline of how I should spend three days of sight does not agree with the program you would set for yourself if you knew that you were about to be stricken blind. I am, however, sure that if you actually faced that fate your eyes would open to things you had never seen before, storing up memories for the long night ahead. You would use your eyes as never before. Everything you saw would become dear to you. Your eyes would touch and embrace every object that came within your range of vision. Then, at last, you would really see, and a new world of beauty would open itself before you.
I who am blind can give one hint to those who see -- one admonition to those who would make full use of the gift of sight: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.
And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.
Touch each object you want to touch as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never s
mell and taste again. Make the most of every sense: glory in all the facets of pleasure and beauty which the world reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight must be the most delightful.#p#副标题#e#
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小红帽是德国童话作家格林的童话《小红帽》中的人物,故事版本多达一百多个,是如今家户喻晓的经典童话故事,成了不少小朋友最喜欢的睡前故事之一。下面读文网小编为大家带来小红帽童话故事双语版,欢迎大家阅读。
Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Cap.
One day her mother said to her, "Come Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your manners and give her my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your grandmother. And when you enter her parlor, don't forget to say 'Good morning,' and don't peer into all the corners first."
"I'll do everything just right," said Little Red Cap, shaking her mother's hand.
The grandmother lived out in the woods, a half hour from the village. When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him.
"Good day to you, Little Red Cap."
"Thank you, wolf."
"Where are you going so early, Little Red Cap?"
"To grandmother's."
"And what are you carrying under your apron?"
"Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked yesterday, and they should be good for her and give her strength."
"Little Red Cap, just where does your grandmother live?"
"Her house is good quarter hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees. There's a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place," said Little Red Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, "Now that sweet young thing is a tasty bite for me. She will taste even better than the old woman. You must be sly, and you can catch them both."
He walked along a little while with Little Red Cap, then he said, "Little Red Cap, just look at the beautiful flowers that are all around us. Why don't you go and take a look? And I don't believe you can hear how beautifully the birds are singing. You are walking along as though you were on your way to school. It is very beautiful in the woods."
Little Red Cap opened her eyes and when she saw the sunbeams dancing to and fro through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers, she thought, "If a take a fresh bouquet to grandmother, she will be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I'll be home on time." And she ran off the path into the woods looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods. But the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"Little Red Cap. I'm bringing you some cake and wine. Open the door."
"Just press the latch," called out the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up."
The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened. He stepped inside, went straight to the grandmother's bed, and ate her up. Then he put on her clothes, put her cap on his head, got into her bed, and pulled the curtains shut.
Little Red Cap had run after the flowers. After she had gathered so many that she could not carry any more, she remembered her grandmother, and then continued on her way to her house. She found, to her surprise, that the door was open. She walked into the parlor, and everything looked so strange that she thought, "Oh, my God, why am I so afraid? I usually like it at grandmother's."
She called out, "Good morning!" but received no answer.
Then she went to the bed and pulled back the curtains. Grandmother was lying there with her cap pulled down over her face and looking very strange.
"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see you with."
"Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have!"
"All the better to grab you with!"
"Oh, grandmother, what a horribly big mouth you have!"
"All the better to eat you with!"
The wolf had scarcely finished speaking when he jumped from the bed with a single leap and ate up poor Little Red Cap. As soon as the wolf had satisfied his desires, he climbed back into bed, fell asleep, and began to snore very loudly.
A huntsman was just passing by. He thought, "The old woman is snoring so loudly. You had better see if something is wrong with her."
He stepped into the parlor, and when he approached the bed, he saw the wolf lying there. "So here I find you, you old sinner," he said. "I have been hunting for you a long time."
He was about to aim his rifle when it occurred to him that the wolf might have eaten the grandmother, and that she still might be rescued. So instead of shooting, he took a pair of scissors and began to cut open the wolf's belly. After a few cuts he saw the red cap shining through., and after a few more cuts the girl jumped out, crying, "Oh, I was so frightened! It was so dark inside the wolf's body!"
And then the grandmother came out as well, alive but hardly able to breathe. Then Little Red Cap fetched some large stones. She filled the wolf's body with them, and when he woke up and tried to run away, the stones were so heavy that he immediately fell down dead.
The three of them were happy. The huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with the pelt. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine that Little Red Cap had brought. And Little Red Cap thought, "As long as I live, I will never leave the path and run off into the woods by myself if mother tells me not to."
They also tell how Little Red Cap was taking some baked things to her grandmother another time, when another wolf spoke to her and wanted her to leave the path. But Little Red Cap took care and went straight to grandmother's. She told her that she had seen the wolf, and that he had wished her a good day, but had stared at her in a wicked manner. "If we hadn't been on a public road, he would have eaten me up," she said.
"Come," said the grandmother. "Let's lock the door, so he can't get in."
Soon afterward the wolf knocked on the door and called out, "Open up, grandmother. It's Little Red Cap, and I'm bringing you some baked things."
They remained silent, and did not open the door. Gray-Head crept around the house several times, and finally jumped onto the roof. He wanted to wait until Little Red Cap went home that evening, then follow her and eat her up in the darkness. But the grandmother saw what he was up to. There was a large stone trough in front of the house.
"Fetch a bucket, Little Red Cap," she said to the child. "Yesterday I cooked some sausage. Carry the water that I boiled them with to the trough." Little Red Cap carried water until the large, large trough was clear full. The smell of sausage arose into the wolf's nose. He sniffed and looked down, stretching his neck so long that he could no longer hold himself, and he began to slide. He slid off the roof, fell into the trough, and drowned. And Little Red Cap returned home happily, and no one harmed her.
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英国的教育体系经过几百年的沿革,相当的完善和复杂,这里就有它的英文版介绍。下面读文网小编为大家带来英国教育体系英文简介,希望对你有所帮助!
英国教育体系总体来说分为三个阶段: 义务教育(Compulsory Education),延续教育(Further Education)和高等教育(Higher Education)。
一、义务教育 (Compulsory Education)
英国的学生从四岁开始接受义务教育,享受全免费的国家福利,学校甚至还提供免费的午餐,所有的家长必须把自己的孩子送到学校读书。小学教育一般持续到11岁,然后进入中学。英国的中学不分初中高中,从中一(Form 1)到中五(Form 5)共五年的时间。
二、延续教育(Further Education)
延续教育是英国教育体系中最有特色也最精彩的部分,它是继小学(Primary)中学(Secondary)教育之后的“第三级教育”(Tertiary)。为进入高等教育或者就业打下基础。也是中国的高中学生留学英国的关键阶段。一般来说接受延续教育的学生介于16和18岁之间。它分为两种体系:学业路线(Academic Route)和职业路线(Vocational Route)。学业路线着重于培养学术研究方面的人才,职业路线则结合社会各层面的职业需要,培养在各种行业中具有专门技能和知识的人才。这两种体系在英国受到同等的重视。
三、高等教育(Higher Education)
顾名思义,高等教育是英国教育体系中的高级阶段,它包括:
本科(Bachelor Degree)
研究生(Master Degree)
博士生(Doctorial Degree)
高级国家文凭(HND-Higher National Diploma)。
高等教育通常都是由大学(University)提供,但许多学院(College)也提供Bachelor和HND课程。
看了英国教育体系英文版介绍这篇文章
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《丑小鸭》是安徒生的经典童话故事之一,写了一只天鹅蛋在鸭群中破壳后,因相貌怪异,让同类鄙弃,历经千辛万苦、重重磨难之后长成了白天鹅。下面读文网小编为大家带来丑小鸭童话故事英文版及翻译,欢迎大家阅读欣赏!
It was so beautiful out on the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked. There the stork minced about on his red legs, clacking away in Egyptian, which was the language his mother had taught him. Round about the field and meadow lands rose vast forests, in which deep lakes lay hidden. Yes, it was indeed lovely out there in the country.
In the midst of the sunshine there stood an old manor house that had a deep moat around it. From the walls of the manor right down to the water's edge great burdock leaves grew, and there were some so tall that little children could stand upright beneath the biggest of them. In this wilderness of leaves, which was as dense as the forests itself, a duck sat on her nest, hatching her ducklings. She was becoming somewhat weary, because sitting is such a dull business and scarcely anyone came to see her. The other ducks would much rather swim in the moat than waddle out and squat under the burdock leaf to gossip with her.
But at last the eggshells began to crack, one after another. "Peep, peep!" said the little things, as they came to life and poked out their heads.
"Quack, quack!" said the duck, and quick as quick can be they all waddled out to have a look at the green world under the leaves. Their mother let them look as much as they pleased, because green is good for the eyes.
"How wide the world is," said all the young ducks, for they certainly had much more room now than they had when they were in their eggshells.
"Do you think this is the whole world?" their mother asked. "Why it extends on and on, clear across to the other side of the garden and right on into the parson's field, though that is further than I have ever been. I do hope you are all hatched," she said as she got up. "No, not quite all. The biggest egg still lies here. How much longer is this going to take? I am really rather tired of it all," she said, but she settled back on her nest.
"Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who came to pay her a call.
"It takes a long time with that one egg," said the duck on the nest. "It won't crack, but look at the others. They are the cutest little ducklings I've ever seen. They look exactly like their father, the wretch! He hasn't come to see me at all."
"Let's have a look at the egg that won't crack," the old duck said. "It's a turkey egg, and you can take my word for it. I was fooled like that once myself. What trouble and care I had with those turkey children, for I may as well tell you, they are afraid of the water. I simply could not get them into it. I quacked and snapped at them, but it wasn't a bit of use. Let me see the egg. Certainly, it's a turkey egg. Let it lie, and go teach your other children to swim."
"Oh, I'll sit a little longer. I've been at it so long already that I may as well sit here half the summer."
"Suit yourself," said the old duck, and away she waddled.
At last the big egg did crack. "Peep," said the young one, and out he tumbled, but he was so big and ugly.
The duck took a look at him. "That's a frightfully big duckling," she said. "He doesn't look the least like the others. Can he really be a turkey baby? Well, well! I'll soon find out. Into the water he shall go, even if I have to shove him in myself."
Next day the weather was perfectly splendid, and the sun shone down on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck led her whole family down to the moat. Splash! she took to the water. "Quack, quack," said she, and one duckling after another plunged in. The water went over their heads, but they came up in a flash, and floated to perfection. Their legs worked automatically, and they were all there in the water. Even the big, ugly gray one was swimming along.
"Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard. But keep close to me so that you won't get stepped on, and watch out for the cat!"
Thus they sallied into the duck yard, where all was in an uproar because two families were fighting over the head of an eel. But the cat got it, after all.
"You see, that's the way of the world." The mother duck licked her bill because she wanted the eel's head for herself. "Stir your legs. Bustle about, and mind that you bend your necks to that old duck over there. She's the noblest of us all, and has Spanish blood in her. That's why she's so fat. See that red rag around her leg? That's a wonderful thing, and the highest distinction a duck can get. It shows that they don't want to lose her, and that she's to have special attention from man and beast. Shake yourselves! Don't turn your toes in. A well-bred duckling turns his toes way out, just as his father and mother do-this way. So then! Now duck your necks and say quack!"
They did as she told them, but the other ducks around them looked on and said right out loud, "See here! Must we have this brood too, just as if there weren't enough of us already? And-fie! what an ugly-looking fellow that duckling is! We won't stand for him." One duck charged up and bit his neck.
"Let him alone," his mother said. "He isn't doing any harm."
"Possibly not," said the duck who bit him, "but he's too big and strange, and therefore he needs a good whacking."
"What nice-looking children you have, Mother," said the old duck with the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty except that one. He didn't come out so well. It's a pity you can't hatch him again."
"That can't be managed, your ladyship," said the mother. "He isn't so handsome, but he's as good as can be, and he swims just as well as the rest, or, I should say, even a little better than they do. I hope his looks will improve with age, and after a while he won't seem so big. He took too long in the egg, and that's why his figure isn't all that it should be." She pinched his neck and preened his feathers. "Moreover, he's a drake, so it won't matter so much. I think he will be quite strong, and I'm sure he will amount to something."
"The other ducklings are pretty enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourselves right at home, and if you find an eel's head you may bring it to me."
So they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling who had been the last one out of his egg, and who looked so ugly, was pecked and pushed about and made fun of by the ducks, and the chickens as well. "He's too big," said they all. The turkey gobbler, who thought himself an emperor because he was born wearing spurs, puffed up like a ship under full sail and bore down upon him, gobbling and gobbling until he was red in the face. The poor duckling did not know where he dared stand or where he dared walk. He was so sad because he was so desperately ugly, and because he was the laughing stock of the whole barnyard.
So it went on the first day, and after that things went from bad to worse. The poor duckling was chased and buffeted about by everyone. Even his own brothers and sisters abused him. "Oh," they would always say, "how we wish the cat would catch you, you ugly thing." And his mother said, "How I do wish you were miles away." The ducks nipped him, and the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed them kicked him with her foot.
So he ran away; and he flew over the fence. The little birds in the bushes darted up in a fright. "That's because I'm so ugly," he thought, and closed his eyes, but he ran on just the same until he reached the great marsh where the wild ducks lived. There he lay all night long, weary and disheartened.
When morning came, the wild ducks flew up to have a look at their new companion. "What sort of creature are you?" they asked, as the duckling turned in all directions, bowing his best to them all. "You are terribly ugly," they told him, "but that's nothing to us so long as you don't marry into our family."
Poor duckling! Marriage certainly had never entered his mind. All he wanted was for them to let him lie among the reeds and drink a little water from the marsh.
There he stayed for two whole days. Then he met two wild geese, or rather wild ganders-for they were males. They had not been out of the shell very long, and that's what made them so sure of themselves.
"Say there, comrade," they said, "you're so ugly that we have taken a fancy to you. Come with us and be a bird of passage. In another marsh near-by, there are some fetching wild geese, all nice young ladies who know how to quack. You are so ugly that you'll completely turn their heads."
Bing! Bang! Shots rang in the air, and these two ganders fell dead among the reeds. The water was red with their blood. Bing! Bang! the shots rang, and as whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the reeds another volley crashed. A great hunt was in progress. The hunters lay under cover all around the marsh, and some even perched on branches of trees that overhung the reeds. Blue smoke rose like clouds from the shade of the trees, and drifted far out over the water.
The bird dogs came splash, splash! through the swamp, bending down the reeds and the rushes on every side. This gave the poor duckling such a fright that he twisted his head about to hide it under his wing. But at that very moment a fearfully big dog appeared right beside him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his wicked eyes glared horribly. He opened his wide jaws, flashed his sharp teeth, and - splash, splash - on he went without touching the duckling.
"Thank heavens," he sighed, "I'm so ugly that the dog won't even bother to bite me."
He lay perfectly still, while the bullets splattered through the reeds as shot after shot was fired. It was late in the day before things became quiet again, and even then the poor duckling didn't dare move. He waited several hours before he ventured to look about him, and then he scurried away from that marsh as fast as he could go. He ran across field and meadows. The wind was so strong that he had to struggle to keep his feet.
Late in the evening he came to a miserable little hovel, so ramshackle that it did not know which way to tumble, and that was the only reason it still stood. The wind struck the duckling so hard that the poor little fellow had to sit down on his tail to withstand it. The storm blew stronger and stronger, but the duckling noticed that one hinge had come loose and the door hung so crooked that he could squeeze through the crack into the room, and that's just what he did.
Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The cat, whom she called "Sonny," could arch his back, purr, and even make sparks, though for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had short little legs, so she was called "Chickey Shortleg." She laid good eggs, and the old woman loved her as if she had been her own child.
In the morning they were quick to notice the strange duckling. The cat began to purr, and the hen began to cluck.
"What on earth!" The old woman looked around, but she was short-sighted, and she mistook the duckling for a fat duck that had lost its way. "That was a good catch," she said. "Now I shall have duck eggs-unless it's a drake. We must try it out." So the duckling was tried out for three weeks, but not one egg did he lay.
In this house the cat was master and the hen was mistress. They always said, "We and the world," for they thought themselves half of the world, and much the better half at that. The duckling thought that there might be more than one way of thinking, but the hen would not hear of it.
"Can you lay eggs?" she asked
"No."
"Then be so good as to hold your tongue."
The cat asked, "Can you arch your back, purr, or make sparks?"
"No."
"Then keep your opinion to yourself when sensible people are talking."
The duckling sat in a corner, feeling most despondent. Then he remembered the fresh air and the sunlight. Such a desire to go swimming on the water possessed him that he could not help telling the hen about it.
"What on earth has come over you?" the hen cried. "You haven't a thing to do, and that's why you get such silly notions. Lay us an egg, or learn to purr, and you'll get over it."
"But it's so refreshing to float on the water," said the duckling, "so refreshing to feel it rise over your head as you dive to the bottom."
"Yes, it must be a great pleasure!" said the hen. "I think you must have gone crazy. Ask the cat, who's the wisest fellow I know, whether he likes to swim or dive down in the water. Of myself I say nothing. But ask the old woman, our mistress. There's no one on earth wiser than she is. Do you imagine she wants to go swimming and feel the water rise over her head?"
"You don't understand me," said the duckling.
"Well, if we don't, who would? Surely you don't think you are cleverer than the cat and the old woman-to say nothing of myself. Don't be so conceited, child. Just thank your Maker for all the kindness we have shown you. Didn't you get into this snug room, and fall in with people who can tell you what's what? But you are such a numbskull that it's no pleasure to have you around. Believe me, I tell you this for your own good. I say unpleasant truths, but that's the only way you can know who are your friends. Be sure now that you lay some eggs. See to it that you learn to purr or to make sparks."
"I think I'd better go out into the wide world," said the duckling.
"Suit yourself," said the hen.
So off went the duckling. He swam on the water, and dived down in it, but still he was slighted by every living creature because of his ugliness.
Autumn came on. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown. The wind took them and whirled them about. The heavens looked cold as the low clouds hung heavy with snow and hail. Perched on the fence, the raven screamed, "Caw, caw!" and trembled with cold. It made one shiver to think of it. Pity the poor little duckling!
One evening, just as the sun was setting in splendor, a great flock of large, handsome birds appeared out of the reeds. The duckling had never seen birds so beautiful. They were dazzling white, with long graceful necks. They were swans. They uttered a very strange cry as they unfurled their magnificent wings to fly from this cold land, away to warmer countries and to open waters. They went up so high, so very high, that the ugly little duckling felt a strange uneasiness come over him as he watched them. He went around and round in the water, like a wheel. He craned his neck to follow their course, and gave a cry so shrill and strange that he frightened himself. Oh! He could not forget them-those splendid, happy birds. When he could no longer see them he dived to the very bottom. and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what birds they were or whither they were bound, yet he loved them more than anything he had ever loved before. It was not that he envied them, for how could he ever dare dream of wanting their marvelous beauty for himself? He would have been grateful if only the ducks would have tolerated him-the poor ugly creature.
The winter grew cold - so bitterly cold that the duckling had to swim to and fro in the water to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he swam kept getting smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the duckling had to paddle continuously to keep the crackling ice from closing in upon him. At last, too tired to move, he was frozen fast in the ice.
Early that morning a farmer came by, and when he saw how things were he went out on the pond, broke away the ice with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his wife. There the duckling revived, but when the children wished to play with him he thought they meant to hurt him. Terrified, he fluttered into the milk pail, splashing the whole room with milk. The woman shrieked and threw up her hands as he flew into the butter tub, and then in and out of the meal barrel. Imagine what he looked like now! The woman screamed and lashed out at him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over each other as they tried to catch him, and they laughed and they shouted. Luckily the door was open, and the duckling escaped through it into the bushes, where he lay down, in the newly fallen snow, as if in a daze.
But it would be too sad to tell of all the hardships and wretchedness he had to endure during this cruel winter. When the warm sun shone once more, the duckling was still alive among the reeds of the marsh. The larks began to sing again. It was beautiful springtime.
Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his wings. They swept through the air much more strongly than before, and their powerful strokes carried him far. Before he quite knew what was happening, he found himself in a great garden where apple trees bloomed. The lilacs filled the air with sweet scent and hung in clusters from long, green branches that bent over a winding stream. Oh, but it was lovely here in the freshness of spring!
From the thicket before him came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and swam lightly in the stream. The duckling recognized these noble creatures, and a strange feeling of sadness came upon him.
"I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."
So he flew into the water and swam toward the splendid swans. They saw him, and swept down upon him with their rustling feathers raised. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, gray bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked him with their bills.
Several little children came into the garden to throw grain and bits of bread upon the water. The smallest child cried, "Here's a new one," and the others rejoiced, "yes, a new one has come." They clapped their hands, danced around, and ran to bring their father and mother.
And they threw bread and cake upon the water, while they all agreed, "The new one is the most handsome of all. He's so young and so good-looking." The old swans bowed in his honor.
Then he felt very bashful, and tucked his head under his wing. He did not know what this was all about. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. The lilacs dipped their clusters into the stream before him, and the sun shone so warm and so heartening. He rustled his feathers and held his slender neck high, as he cried out with full heart: "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."#p#副标题#e#
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想找一些简单又有个性的英文句子来做qq签名吗?下面读文网小编为大家带简单个性英文签名,希望大家喜欢!
Life is a on return journey.
人生是一段没有退路的旅程。
Home is where the heart is.
心在的地方就是家。
Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.
生活很艰难,但是宝贝,你也很坚强。
When it has is lost, brave to give up.
当拥有已经是失去,就勇敢的放弃。
Don't let the fear for losing keep you from trying.
别因为害怕失败而停止尝试。
Real dream is the other shore of reality.
真正的梦就是现实的彼岸。
Sometimes you have to give up on someone in order to respect yourself.
有时候我们必须放弃一些人,来成全自己的自尊。
There is no elevator to success. You have to take the stairs.
成功没有电梯,只有一步一个脚印。
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想拥有一个属于自己的好看又有个性的英文名吗?下面读文网小编为大带来好看的英文名字,欢迎阅读收藏!
Marcus, 马卡斯 罗马, 指有侵略性的人。
Marico, 马里奥 拉丁, 好战的人;苦战
Mark, 马克, 拉丁, 指有侵略性的人。
Marlon, 马伦, 法国, 指像小鹰或猎鹰的人。
Marsh, 玛希, 法国, 来自草木丛生的地区。
Marshall, 马歇尔 英国, 看守马的人,君王的跟随者。
Martin, 马丁, 拉丁, 好战的,尚武的。
Marvin, 马文, 英国, 朋友。
Una 优娜 盖尔,英国,拉丁 怪人,一人,唯一无二的。
Valerie 瓦勒莉 拉丁 强壮的人;勇敢的人。
Victoria 维多利亚 拉丁 胜利。
Suzanne 苏珊 希伯来 一朵小百合。
Zenobia 丽诺比丽 拉丁、希腊 父亲的光荣;狩猎女神。
Tiffany 蒂法尼 法国 薄纱;神圣。
Yvette 依耶芙特 法国 射手或弓箭手。
Wanda 旺妲 条顿 树干;流浪者。
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带符号的英文网名十分具有个性,不少人都想找一些带符号的英文网名,下面读文网小编为大带来好看的英文名字带符号,欢迎阅读收藏!
经年°reminis
Aomr゛心渃相依゜
肆虐 *Raging
黛文 Make-up
潮牌Pet miss
深空失忆 Dreams▼
纯二°Everylove
浅时光BonnenuI
ゝ Extreme゜虐心
☂ .·Alone°~
午夜埋葬者 ╮Daing
安于此生丶ˉTaurus
▼ 心计 Female°
巴黎左岸° Proven
▼ 心计 Female°
纽约迷情° Proven
Empty city °
smoke,身上的味道.
明眸°Sunshine
╯用Style、淡漠一切
Manjusaka丶凄美
浮夸生 Easonら
Fairy°好菇凉
Tears(眼泪)
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