上了天堂的猫 The cat who went to heaven - 儿童文学 - 阅读卡 - 英语原著轻松看 - 学人互动网
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& 上了天堂的猫 The cat who went to heaven
上了天堂的猫 The cat who went to heaven
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　　Once upon a time, far away in Japan, a poor young artist sat alone in his little house, waiting for his dinner. His housekeeper had gone to market, and he sat sighing to think of all the things he wished she would bring home. He expected her to hurry in at any minute, bowing and opening her little basket to show him how wisely she had spent their few pennies. He heard her step, and jumped up. He was very hungry!&　　　　But the housekeeper lingered by the door, and the basket stayed shut. &Come,& he cried, &what is in that basket?'&　　　　The housekeeper trembled and held the basket tight in two hands. &It has seemed to me, sir,& she said &that we were very lonely here.& Her wrinkled face looked humble and obstinate.&　　　　&Lonely!& said the artist. &I should think so! How can we have guests when we have nothing to offer them? It is so long since I have tasted rice cakes that I forget what they taste like!& And he sighed again, for he loved rice cakes, and dumplings, and little cakes filled with sweet bean jelly. He loved tea served in fine china cups, in company with some friend, seated on flat cushions, talking perhaps about a spray of peach blossoms standing like a little princess in an alcove. But weeks and weeks had gone by since anyone had bought even the smallest picture. The poor artist was glad enough to have rice and a coarse fish now and then. If he did not sell another picture soon, he would not have even that. His eyes went back to the basket. Perhaps the old woman had managed to pick up a turnip or two, or even a peach, too ripe to haggle long over.&　　　　&Sir,& said the housekeeper, seeing the direction of his look &it has often seemed to me that I was kept awake by rats.&&　　　　At that the artist laughed out loud.&　　　　&Rats?& he repeated. &Rats? My dear old woman, no rats come to such a poor house as this where not the smallest crumb falls to the mats.& Then he looked at the housekeeper and a dreadful suspicion filled his mind.&　　　　&You have brought us home nothing to eat!& he said.&　　　　&True, master,& said the old woman sorrowfully.&　　　　&You have brought us home a cat!& said the artist. &My master knows everything!& answered the housekeeper, bowing low.&　　　　Then the artist jumped to his feet, and strode up and down the room, and pulled his hair, and it seemed to him that he would die of hunger and anger. &A cat? A cat?& he cried. &Have you gone mad? Here we are starving and you must bring home a goblin, a goblin to share the little we have, and perhaps to suck our blood at night! Yes! It will be fine to wake up in the dark and feel teeth at our throats and look into eyes as big as lanterns! But perhaps you are right! Perhaps we are so miserable it would be a good thing to have us die at once, and be carried over the ridgepoles in the jaws of a devil!&&　　　　&But master, master, there are many good cats, too!& cried the poor old woman. &Have you forgotten the little boy who drew all the pictures of cats on the screens of the deserted temple　　　　and then went to sleep in a closet and heard such a racket in the middle of the night? And in the morning when he awoke again, he found the giant rat lying dead master --the rat who had come to kill him! Who destroyed the rat, sir, tell me that? It was his own cats, there they sat on the screen as he had drawn them, but there was blood on their claws! And he became a great artist like yourself. Surely, there are many good cats, master.&&　　　　Then the old woman began to cry. The artist stopped and looked at her as the tears fell from her bright black eyes and ran down the wrinkles in her cheeks. Why should he be angry? He had gone hungry before.&　　　　&Well, well.& he said, &sometimes it is good fortune to have even a devil in the household. It keeps other devils away. Now I suppose this cat of yours will wish to eat. Perhaps it may arrange for us to have some food in the house. Who knows? We can't be worse off than we are.&&　　　　The housekeeper bowed very low in gratitude.&　　　　'There is not a kinder heart in the whole town than my master's,& she said, and prepared to carry the covered basket into the kitchen.&　　　　But the artist stopped her. Like all artists he was curious.&　　　　&Let us see the creature,& he said, pretending he scarcely cared whether he saw it or not.&　　　　So the old woman put down the basket and opened the lid. Nothing happened for a moment. Then a round, pretty, white head came slowly above the bamboo, and two big yellow eyes looked about the room and a little white paw appeared on the rim. Suddenly, without moving the basket at all, a little white cat jumped out on the mats, and stood there as a person might who scarcely knew if she were welcome. Now that the cat was out of the basket, the artist saw that she had yellow and black spots on her sides, a little tail like a rabbit's, and that she did everything daintily. &Oh, a three-colored cat,& said the artist. &Why didn't you say so from the beginning? They are very lucky, I understand.&&　　　　As soon as the little cat heard him speak so kindly, she walked over to him and bowed down her head as though she were saluting him, while the old woman clapped her hands for joy. The artist forgot that he was hungry. He had seen nothing so lowly as their cat for a long time.&　　　　&She will have to have a name,& he declared, sitting down again on the old matting while the cat stood sedately before him. &Let me see: she is like new snow dotted with gol she is like a white flower on which butterflies of two she is like … & But here he stopped. For a sound like a tea kettle crooning on the fire was filling his little room.&　　　　&How contented!& sighed the artist. &This is better than rice.& Then he said to the housekeeper, &We have been lonely, I see now.&&　　　　&May I humbly suggest,& said the housekeeper, &that we call this cat Good Fortune?'　　　　Somehow the name reminded the artist of all his troubles.&　　　　&Anything will do,& he said, getting up and tightening his belt over his empty stomach, &but take her to the kitchen now, out of the way.& No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the little cat rose and walked away, softly and meekly.&　　　　The First Song of the Housekeeper&　　　　 I'm poor and I'm old,　　 My hair has gone gray,　　 My robe is all patches,　　 My sash is not gay.　　 The fat God of Luck　　 Never enters our door,　　 And no visitors come　　　　 To drink tea anymore.　　　　 Yet I hold my head high　　　　 As I walk through the town.　　　　 While I serve such a master　　　　 My heart's not bowed down!
　　很久很久以前，在遥远的日本，一个贫困的年轻艺术家此刻正孤单地坐在他的小房子里。他在等着晚餐。女管家去了市场很久了，她会带回来些什么呢？艺术家想了想，不禁又叹了一口气。他多希望她随时能出现在房门，鞠一个躬然后打开小小的提篮，告诉他那仅有的几便士是花得多么地明智啊。终于，有脚步声！他跳了起来。天知道他有多饿！　　　　可这时女管家却一个劲地在门外徘徊，提篮也紧闭着。“快点进来吧”，他大声地说，“篮子里有什么呢？”　　　　然而女管家却颤抖着，双手把提篮握得更紧了。“先生，在我看来，”她说，“我们两人在这里太孤单了。”她布满皱纹的脸显得谦卑而倔强。　　　　“孤单！”艺术家大声叫着。“我当然觉得！我们四壁空空，拿什么去招待客人？我多久没有尝到米团的味道了，久得它们是什么味道都快忘了！”他又叹了一口气，想起美好的饭团，饺子还有那些夹满甜香果冻馅的糕点啊。以前，他喜欢与三五好友盘膝坐垫上，喝着用精致的瓷杯沏好的茶，谈论的也许无非是凉亭里站立的一棵开满了桃花的树。可日子一天一天地过去，他却连一副最小的画也没卖出去了。偶尔吃上米饭还有一条简单的鱼就足以让这个穷困潦倒的艺术家欢欣不已，现在，要是他不赶紧卖掉另一幅画，估计连这最基本的要求都遥不可及了。他的眼睛又回到了篮子上。也许这个老妇人早已买了一个或两个的萝卜，说不定还有一个过于熟了的桃子，果农可不会再留着它们了。　　　　“先生，”女管家一边看着他的表情，“我经常被老鼠吵醒。”艺术家不由得哈哈大笑。　　　　“老鼠？什么老鼠啊！我亲爱的老太太，会有哪一只老鼠会跑来这样一个连一丁点儿碎屑都不会掉在毡子上的破屋啊。”　　　　他看着女管家，突然一种可怕的怀疑闯进了他的脑际。&　　　　“你一点东西都没带回来！”　　　　“是的，我的主人。”老女人哀伤答道。&　　　　“你不会就给我带回来一只猫吧！”　　　　“我的主人真是无所不知！”女管家弯着腰。　　　　艺术家一跃而起，在房间里来回地踱步，又使劲地抓着自己的头发，仿佛下一秒钟他就会死于饥饿与愤怒。&　　　　“猫？一只猫？你是不是疯了？我们这里三餐不继，你却还要带回来这么一个小捣蛋，它会分去我们仅有的东西，也许还会在夜晚吮吸我们的血！就是这样的！你就等着看看黑漆的夜里醒来，发现喉颈冰凉，然后看到一对亮闪闪的提灯一样大的眼睛吧！可也许你也是对的。我们这么凄凉，被魔鬼牢牢地扼住生命，还不如死去好了。&　　　　“但是主人，我的主人，好猫也是有的啊。”这个可怜的老女儿大声叫道。你忘记那个在废弃的寺庙墙壁上绘画的小男孩了吗？他画了一壁的猫，然后就去小房子里睡觉了,夜晚的时候他听了一阵吵闹声。等第二天一早醒来，他看到一只巨大的死老鼠躺在寺里，这可是一只要来杀他的老鼠啊！谁能够破坏他的计划呢，先生，告诉我，除了他画在壁上的老鼠之外，还有谁呢。他们还有血迹在爪子上呢。之后，他就像您一样成为了一个伟大的艺术家。当然，先生，肯定还会有很多很好的猫的呢。　　　　然后这个老人就忍不住哭了。艺术家停了下来看着泪水不停地从她黑亮的眼睛里流出来，滑过那一道道皱纹。为什么他要生气呢？他又不是没有饿过呀。　　　　“好了，别哭了。”他说，“有时候说不定因祸得福。我想这只猫早就饿坏了吧。也许牠能给我们带来一些吃的东西也说不定。谁知道呢？我们的境况是不能再差的了。”　　　　女管家满怀感激地深深鞠了一个躬。　　　　“这镇上再也找不出一个像我的主人这样有善心的人了。”她说完，就准备带着这只还盖着的篮子走进厨房。　　　　好奇是所有艺术家的天性，他忍不住叫住了她。　　　　“让我看看这只小东西吧”，他说，假装自己根本不在乎看不看篮子里的这只猫。于是这个老女人将提篮放下，打开盖子。起初静悄悄地，然后一个圆碌碌，白色漂亮的头慢慢地伸出竹盖，小小的白色手掌趴在盖子边缘，大大的黄色眼珠子滴溜溜地四顾着房间。突然，她跃到了毡子上，站在那里好像一个根本不知自己会否受到欢迎的人。可是现在艺术家可完全能够看清这只猫了，她的双颊散落着黄色和黑色的斑点，小小的尾巴长得就像兔子一样，她看上去优雅极了。&　　　　“哦，这可是一只三色猫。”艺术家说，“你怎么不早说呢？听说牠们可是非常幸运的。”　　　　当这只小猫听到如此温和的话之后,便走向他并且低下头仿佛向他致敬.老女人不禁欢乐地鼓掌起来.艺术家则浑然忘记了自己的饥饿.他很久没有看到如此谦逊的画面了.　　　　“她应该有一个名字。”他边说边坐回到老旧的毡子上，那只小猫则安详地站在身后。“让我想，她就像是新雪上点缀了金银色的光点，她也像是一朵洁白无瑕的花朵上栖息了两只斑斓的蝴蝶，她就像是……”　　　　说到这里他停住了。因为这时房间里响彻着一个声音，就像是茶壶在火炉上低沉地扑扑响声。　　　　“多么让人满足啊！”艺术家叹道。“这比饭菜更为胜之。”然后他对女管家说，“看来，我们以前确实太孤单了。”　　　　女管家说，“容我建议，或许我们就叫这只猫好运吧？”然而这却无意提醒了艺术家所有他所面对的问题。　　　　“随便吧。”他站了起来收紧了腰带，“带她去厨房吧，不要挡住路了。”还没等他说完，小猫已经站起来悄悄地走开了。　　　　女管家的第一首歌　　　　我虽穷困年岁高　　发已斑白且稀少　　长袍未能裹寒躯　　腰带鲜色早褪去　　好运上帝未曾临　　茶室冷落访客稀　　我却将头高昂起　　为我主人心不低&
　　Once upon a time, far away in Japan, a poor young artist sat alone in his little house, waiting for his dinner. His housekeeper had gone to market, and he sat sighing to think of all the things he wished she would bring home. He expected her to hurry in at any minute, bowing and opening her little basket to show him how wisely she had spent their few pennies. He heard her step, and jumped up. He was very hungry!&　　　　But the housekeeper lingered by the door, and the basket stayed shut. &Come,& he cried, &what is in that basket?'&　　　　The housekeeper trembled and held the basket tight in two hands. &It has seemed to me, sir,& she said &that we were very lonely here.& Her wrinkled face looked humble and obstinate.&　　　　&Lonely!& said the artist. &I should think so! How can we have guests when we have nothing to offer them? It is so long since I have tasted rice cakes that I forget what they taste like!& And he sighed again, for he loved rice cakes, and dumplings, and little cakes filled with sweet bean jelly. He loved tea served in fine china cups, in company with some friend, seated on flat cushions, talking perhaps about a spray of peach blossoms standing like a little princess in an alcove. But weeks and weeks had gone by since anyone had bought even the smallest picture. The poor artist was glad enough to have rice and a coarse fish now and then. If he did not sell another picture soon, he would not have even that. His eyes went back to the basket. Perhaps the old woman had managed to pick up a turnip or two, or even a peach, too ripe to haggle long over.&　　　　&Sir,& said the housekeeper, seeing the direction of his look &it has often seemed to me that I was kept awake by rats.&&　　　　At that the artist laughed out loud.&　　　　&Rats?& he repeated. &Rats? My dear old woman, no rats come to such a poor house as this where not the smallest crumb falls to the mats.& Then he looked at the housekeeper and a dreadful suspicion filled his mind.&　　　　&You have brought us home nothing to eat!& he said.&　　　　&True, master,& said the old woman sorrowfully.&　　　　&You have brought us home a cat!& said the artist. &My master knows everything!& answered the housekeeper, bowing low.&　　　　Then the artist jumped to his feet, and strode up and down the room, and pulled his hair, and it seemed to him that he would die of hunger and anger. &A cat? A cat?& he cried. &Have you gone mad? Here we are starving and you must bring home a goblin, a goblin to share the little we have, and perhaps to suck our blood at night! Yes! It will be fine to wake up in the dark and feel teeth at our throats and look into eyes as big as lanterns! But perhaps you are right! Perhaps we are so miserable it would be a good thing to have us die at once, and be carried over the ridgepoles in the jaws of a devil!&&　　　　&But master, master, there are many good cats, too!& cried the poor old woman. &Have you forgotten the little boy who drew all the pictures of cats on the screens of the deserted temple　　　　and then went to sleep in a closet and heard such a racket in the middle of the night? And in the morning when he awoke again, he found the giant rat lying dead master --the rat who had come to kill him! Who destroyed the rat, sir, tell me that? It was his own cats, there they sat on the screen as he had drawn them, but there was blood on their claws! And he became a great artist like yourself. Surely, there are many good cats, master.&&　　　　Then the old woman began to cry. The artist stopped and looked at her as the tears fell from her bright black eyes and ran down the wrinkles in her cheeks. Why should he be angry? He had gone hungry before.&　　　　&Well, well.& he said, &sometimes it is good fortune to have even a devil in the household. It keeps other devils away. Now I suppose this cat of yours will wish to eat. Perhaps it may arrange for us to have some food in the house. Who knows? We can't be worse off than we are.&&　　　　The housekeeper bowed very low in gratitude.&　　　　'There is not a kinder heart in the whole town than my master's,& she said, and prepared to carry the covered basket into the kitchen.&　　　　But the artist stopped her. Like all artists he was curious.&　　　　&Let us see the creature,& he said, pretending he scarcely cared whether he saw it or not.&　　　　So the old woman put down the basket and opened the lid. Nothing happened for a moment. Then a round, pretty, white head came slowly above the bamboo, and two big yellow eyes looked about the room and a little white paw appeared on the rim. Suddenly, without moving the basket at all, a little white cat jumped out on the mats, and stood there as a person might who scarcely knew if she were welcome. Now that the cat was out of the basket, the artist saw that she had yellow and black spots on her sides, a little tail like a rabbit's, and that she did everything daintily. &Oh, a three-colored cat,& said the artist. &Why didn't you say so from the beginning? They are very lucky, I understand.&&　　　　As soon as the little cat heard him speak so kindly, she walked over to him and bowed down her head as though she were saluting him, while the old woman clapped her hands for joy. The artist forgot that he was hungry. He had seen nothing so lowly as their cat for a long time.&　　　　&She will have to have a name,& he declared, sitting down again on the old matting while the cat stood sedately before him. &Let me see: she is like new snow dotted with gol she is like a white flower on which butterflies of two she is like … & But here he stopped. For a sound like a tea kettle crooning on the fire was filling his little room.&　　　　&How contented!& sighed the artist. &This is better than rice.& Then he said to the housekeeper, &We have been lonely, I see now.&&　　　　&May I humbly suggest,& said the housekeeper, &that we call this cat Good Fortune?'　　　　Somehow the name reminded the artist of all his troubles.&　　　　&Anything will do,& he said, getting up and tightening his belt over his empty stomach, &but take her to the kitchen now, out of the way.& No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the little cat rose and walked away, softly and meekly.&　　　　The First Song of the Housekeeper&　　　　 I'm poor and I'm old,　　 My hair has gone gray,　　 My robe is all patches,　　 My sash is not gay.　　 The fat God of Luck　　 Never enters our door,　　 And no visitors come　　　　 To drink tea anymore.　　　　 Yet I hold my head high　　　　 As I walk through the town.　　　　 While I serve such a master　　　　 My heart's not bowed down!
　　很久很久以前，在遥远的日本，一个贫困的年轻艺术家此刻正孤单地坐在他的小房子里。他在等着晚餐。女管家去了市场很久了，她会带回来些什么呢？艺术家想了想，不禁又叹了一口气。他多希望她随时能出现在房门，鞠一个躬然后打开小小的提篮，告诉他那仅有的几便士是花得多么地明智啊。终于，有脚步声！他跳了起来。天知道他有多饿！　　　　可这时女管家却一个劲地在门外徘徊，提篮也紧闭着。“快点进来吧”，他大声地说，“篮子里有什么呢？”　　　　然而女管家却颤抖着，双手把提篮握得更紧了。“先生，在我看来，”她说，“我们两人在这里太孤单了。”她布满皱纹的脸显得谦卑而倔强。　　　　“孤单！”艺术家大声叫着。“我当然觉得！我们四壁空空，拿什么去招待客人？我多久没有尝到米团的味道了，久得它们是什么味道都快忘了！”他又叹了一口气，想起美好的饭团，饺子还有那些夹满甜香果冻馅的糕点啊。以前，他喜欢与三五好友盘膝坐垫上，喝着用精致的瓷杯沏好的茶，谈论的也许无非是凉亭里站立的一棵开满了桃花的树。可日子一天一天地过去，他却连一副最小的画也没卖出去了。偶尔吃上米饭还有一条简单的鱼就足以让这个穷困潦倒的艺术家欢欣不已，现在，要是他不赶紧卖掉另一幅画，估计连这最基本的要求都遥不可及了。他的眼睛又回到了篮子上。也许这个老妇人早已买了一个或两个的萝卜，说不定还有一个过于熟了的桃子，果农可不会再留着它们了。　　　　“先生，”女管家一边看着他的表情，“我经常被老鼠吵醒。”艺术家不由得哈哈大笑。　　　　“老鼠？什么老鼠啊！我亲爱的老太太，会有哪一只老鼠会跑来这样一个连一丁点儿碎屑都不会掉在毡子上的破屋啊。”　　　　他看着女管家，突然一种可怕的怀疑闯进了他的脑际。&　　　　“你一点东西都没带回来！”　　　　“是的，我的主人。”老女人哀伤答道。&　　　　“你不会就给我带回来一只猫吧！”　　　　“我的主人真是无所不知！”女管家弯着腰。　　　　艺术家一跃而起，在房间里来回地踱步，又使劲地抓着自己的头发，仿佛下一秒钟他就会死于饥饿与愤怒。&　　　　“猫？一只猫？你是不是疯了？我们这里三餐不继，你却还要带回来这么一个小捣蛋，它会分去我们仅有的东西，也许还会在夜晚吮吸我们的血！就是这样的！你就等着看看黑漆的夜里醒来，发现喉颈冰凉，然后看到一对亮闪闪的提灯一样大的眼睛吧！可也许你也是对的。我们这么凄凉，被魔鬼牢牢地扼住生命，还不如死去好了。&　　　　“但是主人，我的主人，好猫也是有的啊。”这个可怜的老女儿大声叫道。你忘记那个在废弃的寺庙墙壁上绘画的小男孩了吗？他画了一壁的猫，然后就去小房子里睡觉了,夜晚的时候他听了一阵吵闹声。等第二天一早醒来，他看到一只巨大的死老鼠躺在寺里，这可是一只要来杀他的老鼠啊！谁能够破坏他的计划呢，先生，告诉我，除了他画在壁上的老鼠之外，还有谁呢。他们还有血迹在爪子上呢。之后，他就像您一样成为了一个伟大的艺术家。当然，先生，肯定还会有很多很好的猫的呢。　　　　然后这个老人就忍不住哭了。艺术家停了下来看着泪水不停地从她黑亮的眼睛里流出来，滑过那一道道皱纹。为什么他要生气呢？他又不是没有饿过呀。　　　　“好了，别哭了。”他说，“有时候说不定因祸得福。我想这只猫早就饿坏了吧。也许牠能给我们带来一些吃的东西也说不定。谁知道呢？我们的境况是不能再差的了。”　　　　女管家满怀感激地深深鞠了一个躬。　　　　“这镇上再也找不出一个像我的主人这样有善心的人了。”她说完，就准备带着这只还盖着的篮子走进厨房。　　　　好奇是所有艺术家的天性，他忍不住叫住了她。　　　　“让我看看这只小东西吧”，他说，假装自己根本不在乎看不看篮子里的这只猫。于是这个老女人将提篮放下，打开盖子。起初静悄悄地，然后一个圆碌碌，白色漂亮的头慢慢地伸出竹盖，小小的白色手掌趴在盖子边缘，大大的黄色眼珠子滴溜溜地四顾着房间。突然，她跃到了毡子上，站在那里好像一个根本不知自己会否受到欢迎的人。可是现在艺术家可完全能够看清这只猫了，她的双颊散落着黄色和黑色的斑点，小小的尾巴长得就像兔子一样，她看上去优雅极了。&　　　　“哦，这可是一只三色猫。”艺术家说，“你怎么不早说呢？听说牠们可是非常幸运的。”　　　　当这只小猫听到如此温和的话之后,便走向他并且低下头仿佛向他致敬.老女人不禁欢乐地鼓掌起来.艺术家则浑然忘记了自己的饥饿.他很久没有看到如此谦逊的画面了.　　　　“她应该有一个名字。”他边说边坐回到老旧的毡子上，那只小猫则安详地站在身后。“让我想，她就像是新雪上点缀了金银色的光点，她也像是一朵洁白无瑕的花朵上栖息了两只斑斓的蝴蝶，她就像是……”　　　　说到这里他停住了。因为这时房间里响彻着一个声音，就像是茶壶在火炉上低沉地扑扑响声。　　　　“多么让人满足啊！”艺术家叹道。“这比饭菜更为胜之。”然后他对女管家说，“看来，我们以前确实太孤单了。”　　　　女管家说，“容我建议，或许我们就叫这只猫好运吧？”然而这却无意提醒了艺术家所有他所面对的问题。　　　　“随便吧。”他站了起来收紧了腰带，“带她去厨房吧，不要挡住路了。”还没等他说完，小猫已经站起来悄悄地走开了。　　　　女管家的第一首歌　　　　我虽穷困年岁高　　发已斑白且稀少　　长袍未能裹寒躯　　腰带鲜色早褪去　　好运上帝未曾临　　茶室冷落访客稀　　我却将头高昂起　　为我主人心不低&
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