安徒生童话：墨水笔和墨水瓶(英)

安徒生童话：墨水笔和墨水瓶

(

英

)

The Pen and the Inkstand

by Hans Christian Andersen

（

1860

）

IN a poet's room

，

where his inkstand stood on the table

，

the remark was once made

，

“

It

is

wonderful

what

can

be

brought

out

of

an

inkstand.

What

will

come

next

？

It

is

indeed

wonderful.

”

“

Yes

，

certainly

，

”

said the inkstand to the pen

，

and to the other articles that stood on the

table

；

“

that's what I always say. It is wonderful and extraordinary what a number of things come

out of me. It's quite incredible

，

and I really don't know what is coming next when that man dips

his pen into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper

，

and what cannot half a

page contain

？

From me

，

all the works of a poet are produced

；

all those imaginary characters

whom people fancy they have known or met. All the deep feeling

，

the humor

，

and the vivid

pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is

，

for I am not acquainted with nature

，

but

it is certainly in me. From me have gone forth to the world those wonderful descriptions of troops

of charming maidens

，

and of brave knights on prancing steeds

；

of the halt and the blind

，

and

I know not what more

，

for I assure you I never think of these things.

”

“

There you are right

，

”

said the pen

，

“

for you don't think at all

；

if you did

，

you would

see that you can only provide the means. You give the fluid that I may place upon the paper what

dwells in me

，

and what I wish to bring to light. It is the pen that writes

：

no man doubts that

；

and

，

indeed

，

most people understand as much about poetry as an old inkstand.

”

“

You have had very little experience

，

”

replied the inkstand.

“

You have hardly been in

service a week

，

and are already half worn out. Do you imagine you are a poet

？

You are only a

servant

，

and before you came I had many like you

，

some of the goose family

，

and others of

English manufacture. I know a quill pen as well as I know a steel one. I have had both sorts in my

service

，

and I shall have many more when he comes

—

the man who performs the mechanical part

—

and writes down what he obtains from me. I should like to know what will be the next thing he

gets out of me.”

“

Ink pot

！

”

exclaimed the pen contemptuously.

Late

in

the

evening

the

poet

came

home.

He

had

been

to

a

concert

，

and

had

been

quite

enchanted with the admirable performance of a famous violin player whom he had heard there.

The performer had produced from his instrument a richness of tone that sometimes sounded like

tinkling waterdrops or rolling pearls

；

sometimes like the birds twittering in chorus

，

and then

rising and swelling in sound like the wind through the fir-trees. The poet felt as if his own heart

were weeping

，

but in tones of melody like the sound of a woman's voice. It seemed not only the

strings

，

but

every

part

of

the

instrument

from

which

these

sounds

were

produced.

It

was

a

wonderful performance and a difficult piece

，

and yet the bow seemed to glide across the strings