tóm tắt

On the cold New Year's Eve, a little girl with bare head, bare feet, hungry but had to sell matches. That little girl lost her mother and even her grandmother - the person who loved her the most, passed away. I did not dare to go home because I was afraid that my father would beat me. Cold and hungry, the little girl huddled in a corner of the wall and lightly lit a match to warm herself up. The first match gave me a warm feeling like sitting by the fireplace. I quickly lit the second match, and a sumptuous table appeared. On the third match, there was a Christmas tree. The fourth match was lit, this time the grandmother with a gentle face appeared. Those illusions quickly dissipated after the match was extinguished. I quickly lit up all the matches to hold my grandmother back. In the end, the little match girl died of cold on the cold New Year's Eve.

nội dung

New Year's Eve, it's cold. a poor little match-seller, motherless, bare-headed, barefoot, hungry, groping in the dark. I haven't sold any matches all day...)

The windows of every house were brightly lit, and the street reeked of roast goose. It's not New Year's Eve! I recall the old years, when my kind grandmother was still alive, I also enjoyed New Year's Eve at home. But Death came to take her grandmother away, her fortune was destroyed, and her family had to leave the lovely house surrounded by ivy, where she had lived her warm days, to huddle in a corner. dark, always listening to taunts and curses.

She sat nestled in a corner, between two houses, one built back a little.

I pulled my legs into my body, but each time I felt colder and colder.

However, she could not go home without selling a few matchboxes, or no one giving her a dime; I'm sure my father will beat me.

Besides, it's cold at home. The father and son lived in the attic near the roof, and although they had stuffed rags in the large cracks in the wall, the wind was still whistling inside. At this point, my hands were stiff.

Rub! Wouldn't it be nice to light a match to warm up the cold? If only I could pull out a match and strike the wall with my finger? Finally, I took the risk of flicking a stick.

Fire matches are very sensitive. The flame was blue at first, gradually fading away, white, glowing pink around the stick, bright and pleasing to the eye.


 
I put my hands on the match that was as bright as embers. Rub! What a strange light! I thought I was sitting in front of an iron fireplace with shiny bronze reliefs. In the furnace, the fire was pleasing to the eye and gave off a gentle heat.

It's so comfortable! Your hands are above the fire; Match in hand, thumb burning hot. Rub! When the snow covered the ground and the north wind blew, how nice it was to sit for hours like that, on a cold winter's night, in front of a fireplace!

I just stretched out my legs to heat, when the fire went out, the heater disappeared. I sat there, my hand holding a dead match. I was completely devastated and suddenly thought that my father had assigned me to sell matches. When I go home tonight, I will be scolded by my father.

I lit the second match, and it burned and lit up. The wall turns into a curtain of colored fabric. I see right into the house. The table was set, the tablecloth was pure white, the table was covered with precious porcelain dishes, and there was even a roast goose. But the most amazing thing was that the goose jumped out of the plate and, carrying a knife and a fork in his back, walked towards the baby.

Then... the match went out; In front of me are only thick and cold walls.

Reality has replaced fantasy; There were no sumptuous dining tables, but only deserted streets, freezing cold, snow-covered whites, northerly winds, and warmly dressed passers-by hurrying to their rendezvous places, completely indifferent to the poverty of the child selling matches.

I lit the third match. Suddenly, a Christmas tree appeared. This tree is larger and more ornate than the one I saw last year through the window of a rich merchant. Thousands of bright lights, twinkling on verdant branches and many colorful pictures like those displayed in store shelves appeared before the baby's eyes. I reached for the tree... but the match went out. all the candles rose, rose forever and turned into stars in the sky.

"Somebody must have just died," said the little boy, "for my grandmother, the only gentle one to me, long dead, used to say: "When a star changes its throne, there is a soul." fly to the sky with God".


 
She struck another match against the wall, a blue light appeared around her and the baby could clearly see her grandmother smiling at her.

- Grandma! Baby cried, let me go! I know that when a match goes out, you will disappear like the fireplace, roast goose and Christmas tree before, but please don't leave me here; Before, when she did not return to the Most Merciful God, our grandchildren were so happy! Grandma used to tell me back then that if I'm obedient, I'll see you again, Grandma! I begged her, she begged God to let me come back to her. Surely He will not refuse.

The match went out, and the glowing illusion on the baby's face also disappeared.

So I lit all the matches left in the bag. I want to hold her back! Matched matches shine like daylight. I have never seen her so big and beautiful.

The old woman took her brother's hand, and then the two of them flew high and high, no longer hungry, cold, and sad, no longer threatening them. they have come to worship God.

The next morning, the ground was still covered with snow, but the sun rose, clear, bright in the pale blue sky. Everyone happily left the house.

On that cold morning, in a corner of the wall, one saw a little girl with rosy cheeks and smiling lips. I died of the cold on New Year's Eve.

On the first day of the new year appeared on the body of a baby sitting among the matches, including one that had been completely burned. Everyone said to each other: "He must have wanted to keep warm!", but no one knew the miracles I saw

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she’d had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she’d not been able to find again, and a boy had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.

Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year’s eve. Yes, she thought of that!

In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.

Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant’s home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.

“Now someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.

“Grandmother!” cried the child. “Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!”

And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.

But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year’s sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

“She wanted to warm herself,” the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.