文本内容:
SunshineS Stories阳光的故事〃I11tell youa story,〃said thewind.Kindly remember,,/said the Rain,“that itsmyturn totalk.Youve beenhowling aroundthe cornerat thetop ofyour voicequite long enough./z〃Is that the thanksI getfor allof thefavors Ivedone you”the Windblustered.“Many anumbrellaIve turnedinside out,or evenblown totatters,when peopletried toavoid you.〃“Be silent!It isI whoshall speak,“said the Sunshine,who spokewith suchbrilliance andwarmththattheweary Windfell flaton hisback,and theRain shookhim andtried torouse him,crying:〃We won,t standfor it.This MadamSunshine isforever interruptingus.Dont letslistento her.What shesays isnot worthhearing.And theSunshine began:〃A beautifulswan flew over therolling,tossing wavesof theocean.Each ofits feathersshone likegold.One featherdrifted downabove a great merchantship thatsailedthe seawith allits canvasspread.The feathercame to rest uponthe curlyhair of a youngoverseerwho lookedafter thegoods aboardthat ship-supercargo theycalled him.The birdoffortunes feathertouched hisforehead,became aquill penin hishand,and broughthim suchluckthat hesoon becamea merchant,a manof wealth,a manso richthat hecould wearspurs ofgoldand changea goldendish intoa noblemansshield.I know-I haveshone onit,〃said theSunshine.“The swan flew faraway,over agreen meadowwhere a little shepherdboy,not morethan sevenyearsold,lay in the shadeof anold tree,the onlytree in that meadow.As theswanflewpastit,she brushedone leaffrom thetree.This leaffell intothe boyshands,where it turned intothreeleaves,ten leaves-yes,itturnedinto allthe leavesofabook.In thisbook hereadof themany wonderfulthings thatare innature,about hisnative language,about faith,and aboutknowledge.Before hewent tosleep helaid thebook underhis pillowto keepfrom forgettingwhathe hadlearned duringthe day.The wonderfulbook ledhim firstto school,and thenfar intothefields oflearning.I haveseen hisname where they carvethe namesof greatscholars,/z theSunshinesaid.“The swanflew overthe forest,where itwas lonelyand quiet.She cametoreston adeep bluelake,wherethewater liliesgrow,where wildapple treesflourish alongthe shore,and wherethecuckoo andwild pigeonmake theirnests.〃A poor woman wasin theforest,gathering fallenbranches.She carriedthem onher back,andheld ababy in her arms.She sawthe goldenswan,that birdof fortune,rise from the rush-coveredshore.What wasthis glitteringthing theswan hadleft It was agolden egg,still warm.Sheput itinherbosom,and thewarmth stayedin it.Truly therewas lifeinthategg.Yes,she heardatapping insidethe shell,but itwas sofaint thatshe mistookit forthe soundof herownheartbeat.“When shecame hometo herown poorcottage,she tookthe eggout tolook atit.‘Tick,itsaid,tick,,as ifit hadbeen acostly goldwatch.But itwas nowatch.It was an egg,justabout tohatch.The shellcracked open,and adear littlebaby swanlooked out.Itwasfullyfeathered,all ingold,and aroundits neckwere fourgold rings.As thepoorwomanhad fourboys-three athome and the babyshe hadcarried inher arms-she knewthat one of the rings wasmeantfor eachof hersons.As soonas sherealized this,the littlegolden birdflew away.Shekissed allof therings,and shemade eachson kissoneof them,touch itagainst hisheart,andwear iton hisfinger.I sawall this,/z said theSunshine,“and Isaw whatcame ofit.〃As oneof theboys playedin thebed ofa stream,he pickedup a handful ofclay.He turnedit,and twistedit,and heshaped itin hisfingers untilhe hadmade astatue ofJason.LikeJason,the youngsculptor hadfound thegolden fleecehe sought.“The secondboy ranacross themeadow,where therewere flowersof everyhue.He gatheredahandful,and squeezedthem sotightlythat thecolored juiceswet his ring andsplashed in his eye.They stuckto hisfingers andcoloredhis thoughts.The dayswent by,and theyears wentpast,until peopleinthebig citycame tospeakof himasthe greatpainter.J“The thirdboy clenchedhisringinhisteeth sotightly thatit echoedthe songthat laydeepin hisheart.The things he thoughtand thethingshefelt wereturned tomusic.The roselikesinging swans,and likeswans theyplunged downas deepas thedepths of the sea,the deepSeaof Thoughts.’He becamea greatmusician,agreatcomposer ofwhom everyland hasthe righttosay:He belongsto me.“The fourthboy-the baby-wasanoutcast.They saidhe hadthe pip,and thatlike asick littlechickenhe shouldbe dosedwith butterand pepper.They gave him pepperenough withhis butter,but Igavehimwarmth andthe kissofthesun,〃said theSunshine.〃He gotten kissesfor onethatthe otherchildren received.He wasa poet,who metwith ablow anda kiss,all hislifelong.But hehad somethingthat noone couldtake fromhim.He hadtheringof famefromthegoldenswan of fortune.There weregolden wingsto histhoughts.Up theyflew andaway theywent,likegolden butterflies,which arethe symbolof thingsimmortal.〃“What anextremely longstory,〃said theWind.“And soawfully dull,“theRainagreed.Fan me,if youplease,so Imay revivealittle.The Windblew again,andtheSunshine said:The swanoffortuneflewoverthe deepgulf,wherefishermen spreadtheir nets.The poorestofthefishermen thoughtof gettingmarried,and marryhedid.And tohim theswan broughta lumpof amber.Amber hasthe powerto drawthings toit,and itdrew thehearts tothe fisherman,s home.Amber makesthe mostwonderful incense,and therecamea fragrantair asfrom achurch,like abalmy breezefrom God,s nature.So thefishermanand hisbride werehappy andthankful intheir quiethome.They werecontent withwhat littletheyhad,and theirlife becamea completesunshine story.〃〃I think,“said theWind,“that thesestories shouldstop.The Sunshinehas talkedlongenough,and Iam verybored.〃〃So amI,〃saidtheRain.And whatdo weothers whoknew thisstory sayWesay:Now it,s out.〃。