安徒生童话英文版一个故事短一些

Once upon a time, there was a proud teapot. It was proud of its porcelain, its long mouth, and its big handle. There's something in front and behind it! There's a spout in front and a handle behind. It's always talking about these things. But it doesn't talk about its cover.
The lid was broken long ago and nailed later; so it has a shortcoming, and people don't like to talk about their own shortcomings - of course, other people talk about it. Cups, butter cans, and sugar bowls - the whole set of tea utensils - all remember the weaknesses of the teapot lid. It's more time to talk about it than about the perfect handle and the beautiful spout. The teapot knows this.
"I know them!" It said to itself, "I also know my shortcomings and admit them. This is enough to show my modesty and simplicity. We all have shortcomings; but we also have advantages. The cup has a handle, and the sugar bowl has a lid. I have both, and there's something they don't have. I have a spout; it makes me the queen on the tea table. Sugar bowls and butter cans were appointed as sweet servers, and I was the appointee, the master of all. I spread happiness among thirsty people. Inside my body, Chinese tea leaves emit fragrance in that tasteless boiling water. This is what the teapot said in its fearless youth.
It stood on the tea table with a tablecloth, and a very white hand uncovered its lid. But this very white and tender hand is very clumsy. The teapot fell down, the spout of the teapot broke, the handle broke, and the lid of the teapot need not be talked about anymore, because much has been said about it. The teapot lay unconscious on the ground; the boiling water flowed all over the place. It was a serious blow to it, and the worst thing was that everyone laughed at it. People just laughed at it, not at the clumsy hand.
"I will never forget this experience!" The teapot later inspected his lifelong career. "People call me a sick man and put me in a corner, and one day they give me to a woman who begs for leftovers. I've fallen into poverty; I don't say a word inside or outside. But just then, my life began to improve. It's a blessing in disguise. I've got earth in my body; for a teapot, it's totally equivalent to burial. But a flower root was buried in the soil. I don't know who put it in or who brought it. However, since it was put in, it compensated for the loss of Chinese tea and boiling water, and also as a reward for the interruption of the handle and spout. The roots of flowers lie in the earth, in my body, and become my heart, a living heart - something I have never had before. I now have life, strength, and spirit. The pulse jumped up, the roots sprouted, and they had thoughts and feelings. It blossoms into flowers. I see it, I support it, I forget myself in its beauty. Forget yourself for others - it's a happy thing! It didn't thank me; it didn't think of me; it was admired and praised by people. I'm very happy; it must be so happy too. One day I heard someone say that it should have a better pot to match it. So people beat me around the waist; I was really in pain at that time! But the flowers moved into a better pot. As for me? I was thrown into the yard. I lay there like a pile of fragments - but my memory is still there and I can't forget it. After a series of good deeds, the teapot was thrown into the yard. I lay there like a pile of fragments - but my memory is still there and I can't forget it. But what's the use of this "solitary admiration"?

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