Resultado de "Hans Christian Andersen" em Todas as categorias

Une petite fille, le soir de Noël, seule dans la rue, quémande un peu de nourriture ou d'argent, mais les gens ont bien d'autres choses à penser. Alors, la petite fille craque une à une ses allumettes, et la lumière l'emporte dans ses rêves, avant qu'elle ne s'endorme pour toujours dans le froid de la nuit. Le conte majestueux du grand auteur Hans Christian ANDERSEN illustré dans l'univers sonore contemporain de nos grandes villes, riche de sa réflexion universelle sur l'indifférence face à la pauvreté.

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Old House tells the story of a dilapidated, centuries-old house in a street of modern homes. A curious boy befriends the lonely old man who lives there and explores the house, filled with relics and memories of the past. The house and its contents, including a lost tin soldier, are eventually sold and the house is demolished, yet its history and the friendship it fostered endure as memories in the boy’s mind, represented by the rediscovery of the tin soldier years later.

DES KAISERS NEUE KLEIDER Hatte der Kaiser Unterkleider an oder war er splitterfasernackt? In unserer Geschichte trägt er Unterkleider, denn ich glaube, so hat es Hans Christian Andersen in seinem Märchen erzählt. Alle alten Texte, die ich gelesen habe, berichten von einem Kaiser, der »nichts« anhat. Je genauer man die Geschichte jedoch liest, desto deutlicher wird, dass »nichts« von alledem gemeint ist, was die Menschen behaupten zu sehen.

Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Swineherd” tells the story of a Prince who, rejected by an arrogant Princess who disdains his genuine gifts of a rose and nightingale, disguises himself as a swineherd. The Princess is then lured by the Swineherd’s clever, but ultimately superficial, trinkets, trading kisses for a magical pot and a musical rattle. When the Emperor discovers his daughter’s scandalous behavior, he banishes them both, only for the Prince to reveal his true identity and denounce her for valuing triviality over true worth and rejecting his genuine love.

Tief unten im klaren Ozean träumt die kleine Meerjungfrau von den Menschen, Liebe – und einer Seele. Dafür ist sie bereit, einen hohen Preis zu bezahlen und alles zu riskieren. Mit Brigitte Carlsens warmem Märchenton erstrahlt Andersens Klassiker in neuem, lebendigem Glanz.

Un coraggioso soldatino di stagno con una sola gamba vive una straordinaria avventura per amore di una delicata ballerina di carta. Una fiaba senza tempo adatta a tutte le età, dai più piccoli che ancora non la conoscono agli adulti che vogliono riscoprire il fascino senza tempo delle opere di Hans Christian Andersen.

“The Ugly Duckling” is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. It tells the story of a mother duck whose eggs are hatching. The last of her baby birds to hatch is a larger bird than the other ducklings, and the other birds and animals around on the farm consider it to be “ugly.” The story is associated with Andersen’s own life, and the three trials of the ugly duckling correspond to the three stages of Andersen’s life. The duckling spent the winter in a marshy pond and finally, spring arrived.

Verstoßen vom eigenen Nest und von allen Tieren verspottet, irrt das kleine, graue Entlein einsam von Teich zu Teich und stolpert von einer Demütigung in die nächste. Doch mit tapferem Herzen und unerschütterlicher Sehnsucht nach Zugehörigkeit trotzt es Kälte, Hunger und Spott – bis ein Wunder seine wahre, strahlende Gestalt enthüllt. Dank der berührenden Märchenstimme Brigitte Carlsens erblüht dieses zeitlose Andersen-Meisterwerk zauberhaft in neuem Glanz!

It was in the latter part of January, and a heavy snowfall was driving down. It whirled through the streets and the lanes, and the outsides of the windowpanes seemed plastered with snow. It fell down in masses from the roofs of the houses. A sudden panic seized the people. They ran, they flew, and they fell into each other's arms and felt that at least for that little moment they had a foothold. The coaches and horses seemed covered with sugar frosting, and the footmen stood with their backs to the carriages, to protect their faces from the wind.

Near the shores of the great Belt, which is one of the straits that connect the Cattegat with the Baltic, stands an old mansion with thick red walls. I know every stone of it," says the Wind. "I saw it when it was part of the castle of Marck Stig on the promontory.

On the hill there stood a windmill stately to look at and very proud of itself. "But I'm not proud at all," it said, "though I'm much enlightened, outside and inside. On the outside I have the sun and moon, and for inward use, too; and I also have wax candles, oil lamps, and tallow candles. Yes, I daresay I'm enlightened. I'm a thinking individual and so well built that I'm a pleasure to look at. I have a good windpipe in my chest, and I have four wings placed upon my head, just under my hat.

Far away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter, named Eliza. The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast, and a sword by his side.

Once upon a time, there was a proud and wicked prince who thought only about how he might conquer all the nations of the earth and make his name a terror to all mankind. He plunged forth with fire and sword; his soldiers trampled down the grain in the fields and put the torch to the peasant's cottage so that the red flames licked the very leaves from the trees, and the fruit hung roasted from black and charred limbs.

Yes, in a thousand years people will fly on the wings of steam through the air, over the ocean! The young inhabitants of America will become visitors of old Europe. They will come over to see the monuments and the great cities, which will then be in ruins, just as we in our time make pilgrimages to the tottering splendors of Southern Asia. In a thousand years they will come!

A top and a ball were lying together in a drawer among a lot of other toys. The top said to the ball, "Since we live in the same drawer, we ought to be sweethearts."

There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers. They were all brothers, born of the same old tin spoon. They shouldered their muskets and looked straight ahead of them, splendid in their uniforms, all red and blue.

There is an old fairy tale: "The Thorny Road of Honor was trodden by a marksman named Bryde, to whom came great honor and dignity, but not until after manifold adversities and peril of life." More than one of us had heard that tale in childhood, and perhaps read it in later years, and thought of his own unsung "thorny road" and "manifold adversities." Romance and reality are very nearly alike, but romance has its harmonious ending here on earth, while reality more often delays it and leads us to time and eternity.

Poor John was greatly troubled, because his father was very ill and could not recover. Except for these two, there was no one in their small room. The lamp on the table had almost burned out, for it was quite late at night.

There came a soldier marching down the high road-one, two! one, two! He had his knapsack on his back and his sword at his side as he came home from the wars. On the road he met a witch, an ugly old witch, a witch whose lower lip dangled right down on her chest.

Once there was a poor prince. He had a kingdom; it was very tiny. Still, it was large enough to marry upon, and on marriage his heart was set. Now it was certainly rather bold of him to say, "Will you have me?" to the emperor's own daughter. But he did, for his name was famous, and far and near there were hundreds of princesses who would have said, "Yes!" and "Thank you!" too. But what did the emperor's daughter say? Well, we'll soon find out.