----- 罗马尼亚鸟和野兽故事
I have followed up to their lairs the ferocious wolf, the cantankerous dog, the sly fox and the Wise hedgehog, have listened to the lark and to the nightingale, and paid homage to little king wren. Who knows how much longer they will disport themselves in the fields and forests of Rumania, where the hoofs of the horses, the feet of the marching men, the shout of battle and the thunder of the guns have silenced — let us hope only for a while — the voice of the dumb creatures, who still speak so eloquently to him who knows their language and understands the cunning spell of their hidden wisdom. It is as if I had gathered flowers from the field of the Rumanian popular imagination. They are fresh from the field, and the dew still hangs upon them like so many diamonds, flashing in the light of popular poetry nay, sometimes a few specks ofthe original soil are still clinging to the roots. I have not pressed them between the leaves of this book. I have handled them tenderly. It has been a work of love, the dreamy fancies of youth, the solace of maturer age. Peradventure one or the other may be taken out and planted anew in the nurseries of the West, where they may blossom and grow afresh. They might bring with them the breath of the open field, the per fume of the forest. They might conjure up the time when the nations were still young and lived in the great Nursery of Nature. If one could only bring to the nations of the West for awhile a glimpse of the time of their youth! In my wander ings through these enchanted fields I have tried to find whence the seeds have come, whose hands have sown them, and what spiritual wind and weather have fostered their growth, whether the rain of heaven or the fountains of the deep have watered the roots, what sun has shone upon them, What fiery blast has made these flowers wither and die. Such as they are, then, they are offered in love to the English people.
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