小学英语 英语故事(童话故事)The Little Green Ones 小小的绿东西

2021年1月26日发(作者：默认)
The
Little
Green
Ones
小小的绿东西

A rose tree drooped in the window. Not so long ago it was green and blooming, but
now
it
looked
sickly
-
something
was
wrong
with
it.
A
regiment
of
invaders
were
eating
it up; and, by the way, it was a very decent and respectable regiment, dressed in
green
uniforms.
I
spoke
to
one
of
the
invaders;
he
was
only
three
days
old
but
already
a grandfather. Do you know what he said? Well, what he said is all true - he spoke
of himself and the rest of the invaders. Listen!

in the summertime, for the weather is pleasant then. We're engaged and have the
wedding at once. When it gets cold we lay our eggs, and the little ones are snug
and warm. The ant, that wisest of creatures (we have a great deal of respect for
him!), studies us and appreciates us. He doesn't eat us up all at once; instead,
he
takes
our
eggs
and
lays
them
out
on
the
ground
floor
of
his
and
his
family's
anthill
-
stores
layer
after
layer
of
them,
all
labeled
and
numbered,
side
by
side,
so
that
every day a new one may creep out of the egg. Then he keeps us in a stable, pinches
our hind legs, and milks us, and then we die. It is really a great pleasure. The
ants have the prettiest name for us - `little milch cow!'

humans who don't, and that is an insult great enough to embitter all our lives.
Couldn't you write us a protest against it? Couldn't you put those people in their
right
place?
They
look
at
us
so
stupidly,
look
at
us
with
jealous
eyes,
just
because
we eat rose leaves, while they eat everything that's created, everything that is
green or grows. Oh, they give us the most despicable, the most distasteful name:
I won't even repeat it! Ugh! It turns my stomach; no, I won't repeat it - at least
not when I'm wearing my uniform, and I am always wearing my uniform!

was
born
on
a
rose
leaf.
My
whole
regiment
and
I
live
off
the
rose
tree;
but
then
it lives again in us, who are of a higher order of beings. Humans detest us! They
come and kill us with soapsuds - that's a horrible drink! I seem to smell it even
now;
it's
dreadful
to
be
washed
when
you're
born
not
to
be
washed.
Man,
you
who
look
at
us
with
your
stupid
soapsud
eyes,
consider
what
our
place
in
nature
is;
consider
our artistic way of laying eggs and breeding children! We have been blessed to
accomplish
and
multiply!
We
are
born
on
the
roses
and
we
die
in
the
roses
-
our
whole
life is a lovely poem. Don't call us by that name which you yourself think most
despicable and ugly - the name I can't bear to speak or to repeat! Instead, call
us the ants' milch cows, the rose-tree regiment, the little green ones!
And I, the man, stood looking at
the
tree and at the
little green ones - whose name
I'll
not
mention,
for
I
shouldn't
like
to
hurt
the
feelings
of
a
citizen
of
the
rose
tree,
a
large
family
with
eggs
and
youngsters.
And
the
soapsuds
I
was
going
to
wash
them in, for I had come with soap and water and evil intentions - I'll blow it to
foam and use it for soap bubbles instead. Look at the splendor! Perhaps there's a
fairy tale in each. And the bubble grows so large with radiant colors, looking as
if there were a silver pearl lying inside it!