a white heron课文翻译

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　　导语：翻译是将一种相对陌生的表达方式，转换成相对熟悉的表达方式的过程。其内容有语言、文字、图形、符号和视频翻译。以下是a white heron课文翻译的内容，希望大家在阅读过后能够更好地理解这篇课文。

　　a white heron课文翻译

　　六月一天的晚上，一个小女孩急匆匆的穿过布满树影的森林。已经是8点了，赛尔薇不知道她的祖母会不会因为如此晚才回家而生气。

　　每天晚上五点半，赛尔薇离开祖母家去带回他们的奶牛。这头老牛几天来在宽阔的田间吃甜美的牧草。把这头牛带回家挤奶是赛尔薇的任务。当牛听到赛尔薇喊它的时候，赛尔薇就会藏到树丛里。

　　今天晚上，赛尔薇花了比平时更长的时间找牛。她催促着奶牛穿过黑暗的森林，沿着一条通往她祖母家的小路行进。奶牛停在一条小溪边饮水。赛尔薇在旁边等着，把她的光脚伸进冰冷新鲜的溪水中。

　　她以前从未独自如此晚的在外。空气是柔和甜蜜的。赛尔薇感觉自己好像灰色阴影和在晚风中轻摆的银色树叶的的一部分。

　　她开始想起一年前是如何到了她祖母的农场。在那之前，她和父母亲住在一个脏乱拥挤的工业小镇。一天，赛尔薇的祖母来看望他们，从所有孩子中挑选了赛尔薇到佛蒙特州的农场帮助她。

　　奶牛喝完了水。当这个九岁的孩子急匆匆的穿过森林往家赶的时候，她又一次想到了她父母仍然所居住的喧闹的小镇。

　　突然，空气被不远处一声尖利的啭鸣所划破。赛尔薇知道那不是友好的鸟所发出的声音。那是一个人的口哨。她忘记了奶牛，转身藏在矮树丛里。但是已经晚了。

　　“你好！小女孩，”一个年轻人高兴地喊道。“到大路上还有多远？”赛尔薇颤抖着说道“两英里。”她从矮树丛里面出来，向上看着这个拿着枪的高大年轻人的脸。

　　陌生人开始和赛尔薇一起随着她的奶牛穿越森林。“我我一直猎鸟，”他解释道，“但是我迷路了。我能在你家里住一晚吗？”赛尔薇没有回答。她很高兴她们很快就到家了。她已经能够看到祖母站在农场房子的门边等着他们。

　　当他们到达的时候，陌生人把枪放下来，向赛尔薇的微笑着的祖母解释了他的问题。

　　“你当然可以和我们待在一起，”她说。“我们没有很多东西，但是欢迎你分享。赛尔薇，去给这个绅士拿个盘子！”

　　吃过晚饭，他们坐在外边。年轻人解释说他是一个收集鸟类的科学家。“你把它们放在笼子里吗？”赛尔薇问道。“不，”他慢慢地回答，“我把它们射下来，用特殊的化学物质填满保存。我已经有来自美国各地的100多种鸟，在我家的书房里。”

　　“赛尔薇对鸟类也知道一些，”他的祖母自豪地说。“她很了解森林，野生动物就在她的身边进食。”

　　“那赛尔薇了解所有的鸟。或许他能帮助我，”年轻人说：“两天前我在不远处看到一只白鹭，从那时起我就一直在寻找。那只小白鹭是一只罕见的鸟，。你也看过它吗？”他问赛尔薇。但是赛尔薇沉默了。“只要你看过它就会认识它，”他补充道。“那是一只高大的奇怪的鸟，有白色柔软的羽毛和细长的腿。它的巢穴很可能在一颗大树的顶端。

　　赛尔薇的心跳开始加快。她知道那只奇怪的白鸟！她以前在森林的另一端看到过它。年轻人盯着赛尔薇。“如果有人告诉我那只白鹭在什么地方，我会给他十美元。”

　　那天晚上，赛尔薇的梦里充满了十美元能买到的所有美好的东西。

　　第二天，赛尔薇花和年轻人在森林里了待了一整天。他告诉她很多关于他们所看见的鸟的知识。如果年轻人把枪留在家里，赛尔薇感觉会更好。她理解不了为什么他要杀死那些他喜欢的鸟。每当他射向一只在树上歌唱的鸟，她的心都会颤抖。

　　但是赛尔薇眼里充满敬意的望着年轻人。她从没见过一个如此英俊和令人着迷的人。一种奇怪的兴奋充满心间，一种小女孩所未知的新感觉-爱。

　　最后一个晚上到来了。他们一起赶着奶牛回家。月亮出来很久了，年轻人已经睡着了，但是赛尔薇还没入睡。她有一个计划，既能为祖母得到十美元又能使年轻人高兴。当黎明将要到来的时候，她静静地离开房子，急匆匆地穿过森林，最后来到一颗巨大的松树旁。这颗松树很大，方圆四周几英里之内的人都可以看到。她的计划就是爬到松树的顶端，在那里可以看到整个森林。她很确信能够看到白鹭藏身的地方。

　　赛尔薇的光脚和细小的手指抓住松树的树干。锋利的干树枝像猫爪一样划着她。当她爬的越来越高的时候，松树的粘液使她的手指感觉又硬又笨。

　　赛尔薇爬的越高，似乎松树长的越高。东边的天空就要亮了，当赛尔薇最后到达松树最高的树枝上，她的脸看起来就像一颗恒星。金色的光线照向绿色的森林。两只鹰在赛尔薇下面很远处盘旋。赛尔薇感到自己仿佛也能在云中飞翔。在西边，赛尔薇可拿到其他的农场和森林。

　　突然，赛尔薇的黑眸捕捉到白色的一闪，并且越来越大。一只有着宽大翅膀和长长细颈的鸟飞过她停在了下面的一支树枝上。白鹭舒展了一下羽毛，呼叫者着她的配偶—另一只坐在附近树上鸟巢里的白鹭。然后展翅飞远。

　　赛尔薇长长的吁了一口气。现在她知道这只鸟的秘密了。她开始慢慢地向下爬去。她不敢往下看，并且试图忘记受伤的手指和正在流血的脚。她现在只想知道当她告诉陌生人在哪里可以找到白鹭巢的时候他会说些什么。

　　当赛尔薇慢慢往下爬的时候，农场里的年轻人正在醒来。他微笑着，因为他从害羞的小女孩看他的方式上确信，她已经看到过白鹭。

　　一个小时后赛尔薇回来了。当她走进厨房的时候，她的祖母和年轻人都站了起来。她说出秘密的绝妙时刻到来了。但是赛尔薇沉默了。她的祖母生气了，她去哪儿了？年轻人用和蔼的眼光深深地看着赛尔薇那黑色的眼睛。他可以给赛尔薇和她的祖母十美元。他已经答应这么做了，他们也需要这些钱。除此之外，赛尔薇还想让他高兴。

　　但是赛尔薇却沉默了。她想起那只白鹭如何飞过金色的天空，他们如何在世界的顶端一起看着太阳升起来。赛尔薇不能说。她不能说出白鹭的秘密，出卖它的生命。

　　后来年轻人失望地走了。赛尔薇很难过。她想成为他的朋友。他再也没回来过。但是很多晚上，当她和她祖母的奶牛回家的时候，她会听到那个年轻人的口哨。

　　我们很想知道，究竟是鸟还是曾经的猎人才是更好的朋友？

　　原文：

　　The forest was full of shadows as a little girl hurried through it one summer evening

　　in June. It was already eight o'clock and Sylvie wondered if her grandmother would be angry with

　　her for being so late.

　　Every evening Sylvie left her grandmother's house at five-thirty to bring their cow home. The old

　　animal spent her days out in the open country eating sweet grass. It was Sylvie's job to bring her

　　home to be milked. When the cow heard Sylvie's voice calling her, she would hide among the

　　bushes.

　　This evening it had taken Sylvie longer than usual to find her cow. The child hurried the cow through the dark forest, following a narrow path that led to her grandmother's home. The cow stopped at a small stream to drink. As Sylvie waited, she put her bare feet in the cold, fresh water of the stream.

　　She had never before been alone in the forest as late as this. The air was soft and sweet. Sylvie felt as if she were a part of the gray shadows and the silver leaves that moved in the evening breeze.

　　She began thinking how it was only a year ago that she came to her grandmother's farm. Before

　　that, she had lived with her mother and father in a dirty, crowded factory town. One day, Sylvie's

　　grandmother had visited them and had chosen Sylvie from all her brothers and sisters to be the one

　　to help her on her farm in Vermont.

　　The cow finished drinking, and as the nine-year-old child hurried through the forest to the home she loved, she thought again about the noisy town where her parents still lived.

　　Suddenly the air was cut by a sharp whistle not far away. Sylvie knew it wasn't a friendly bird's

　　whistle. It was the determined whistle of a person. She forgot the cow and hid in some bushes. But

　　she was too late.

　　"Hello, little girl," a young man called out cheerfully. "How far is it to the main road?" Sylvie was trembling as she whispered "two miles." She came out of the bushes and looked up into the face of

　　a tall young man carrying a gun.

　　The stranger began walking with Sylvie as she followed her cow through the forest. "I've been

　　hunting for birds," he explained, "but I've lost my way. Do you think I can spend the night at your house?" Sylvie didn't answer. She was glad they were almost home. She could see her grandmother standing near the door of the farm house.

　　When they reached her, the stranger put down his gun and explained his problem to Sylvie's smiling

　　grandmother.

　　"Of course you can stay with us," she said. "We don't have much, but you're welcome to share what

　　we have. Now Sylvie, get a plate for the gentleman!"

　　After eating, they all sat outside. The young man explained he was a scientist, who collected birds.

　　"Do you put them in a cage?" Sylvie asked. "No," he answered slowly, "I shoot them and stuff them

　　with special chemicals to preserve them. I have over one hundred different kinds of birds from all

　　over the United States in my study at home."

　　"Sylvie knows a lot about birds, too," her grandmother said proudly. "She knows the forest so well,the wild animals come and eat bread right out of her hands."

　　"So Sylvie knows all about birds. Maybe she can help me then," the young man said. "I saw a white

　　heron not far from here two days ago. I've been looking for it ever since. It's a very rare bird, the little white heron. Have you seen it, too?" He asked Sylvie. But Sylvie was silent. "You would know it if you saw it," he added. "It's a tall, strange bird with soft white feathers and long thin legs. It

　　probably has its nest at the top of a tall tree."

　　Sylvie's heart began to beat fast. She knew that strange white bird! She had seen it on the other

　　side of the forest. The young man was staring at Sylvie. "I would give ten dollars to the person who showed me where the white heron is."

　　That night Sylvie's dreams were full of all the wonderful things she and her grandmother could buy

　　for ten dollars.

　　Sylvie spent the next day in the forest with the young man. He told her a lot about the birds they

　　saw. Sylvie would have had a much better time if the young man had left his gun at home. She

　　could not understand why he killed the birds he seemed to like so much. She felt her heart tremble

　　every time he shot an unsuspecting bird as it was singing in the trees.

　　But Sylvie watched the young man with eyes full of admiration. She had never seen anyone so

　　handsome and charming. A strange excitement filled her heart, a new feeling the little girl did not recognize...love.

　　At last evening came. They drove the cow home together. Long after the moon came out and the

　　young man had fallen asleep Sylvie was still awake. She had a plan that would get the ten dollars for her grandmother and make the young man happy. When it was almost time for the sun to rise, she

　　quietly left her house and hurried through the forest. She finally reached a huge pine tree, so tall it could be seen for many miles around. Her plan was to climb to the top of the pine tree. She could see the whole forest from there. She was sure she would be able to see where the white heron had hidden its nest.

　　Sylvie's bare feet and tiny fingers grabbed the tree's rough trunk. Sharp dry branches scratched at her like cat's claws. The pine tree's sticky sap made her fingers feel stiff and clumsy as she climbed higher and higher.

　　The pine tree seemed to grow taller, the higher that Sylvie climbed. The sky began to brighten in the east. Sylvie's face was like a pale star when, at last, she reached the tree's highest branch. The golden sun's rays hit the green forest. Two hawks flew together in slow-moving circles far below Sylvie. Sylvie felt as if she could go flying among the clouds, too. To the west she could see other farms and forests.

　　Suddenly Sylvie's dark gray eyes caught a flash of white that grew larger and larger. A bird with

　　broad white wings and a long slender neck flew past Sylvie and landed on a pine branch below her.

　　The white heron smoothed its feathers and called to its mate, sitting on their nest in a nearby tree.

　　Then it lifted its wings and flew away.

　　Sylvie gave a long sigh. She knew the wild bird's secret now. Slowly she began her dangerous trip

　　down the ancient pine tree. She did not dare to look down and tried to forget that her fingers hurt and her feet were bleeding. All she wanted to think about was what the stranger would say to her when she told him where to find the heron's nest.

　　As Sylvie climbed slowly down the pine tree, the stranger was waking up back at the farm. He was

　　smiling because he was sure from the way the shy little girl had looked at him that she had seen the white heron.

　　About an hour later Sylvie appeared. Both her grandmother and the young man stood up as she

　　came into the kitchen. The splendid moment to speak about her secret had come. But Sylvie was

　　silent. Her grandmother was angry with her. Where had she been. The young man's kind eyes

　　looked deeply into Sylvie's own dark gray ones. He could give Sylvie and her grandmother ten

　　dollars. He had promised to do this, and they needed the money. Besides, Sylvie wanted to make

　　him happy.

　　But Sylvie was silent. She remembered how the white heron came flying through the golden air and

　　how they watched the sun rise together from the top of the world. Sylvie could not speak. She could not tell the heron's secret and give its life away.

　　The young man went away disappointed later that day. Sylvie was sad. She wanted to be his friend.

　　He never returned. But many nights Sylvie heard the sound of his whistle as she came home with

　　her grandmother's cow.

　　Were the birds better friends than their hunter might have been? Who can know?

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