And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark's cage. The poor bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word, much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed.
"I have no water," said the captive lark, "they have all gone out, and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created." And it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed it with its beak and said: "You must also fade in here, poor little flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals a fragrant flower. Alas! you only remind me of what I have lost."
"I wish I could console the poor lark," thought the daisy. It could not move one of its leaves, but the fragrance of its delicate petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than such flowers usually have: the bird noticed it, although it was dying with thirst, and in its pain tore up the green blades of grass, but did not touch the flower.
The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in its anguish; a faint and mournful "Tweet, tweet," was all it could utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not, as on the previous evening, fold up its petals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when they saw the dead bird, they began to cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and adorned it with flowers. The bird's body was placed in a pretty red box; they wished to bury it with royal honors. While it was alive and sang they forgot it, and let it suffer want in the cage; now, they cried over it and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf, with the little daisy in it, was thrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it.
雏菊
现在请你听听——
在乡间的一条大路边，有一座别墅。你一定看见过的!别墅前面有一个种满了花的小花园和一排涂了油漆的栅栏。在这附近的一条沟里，一丛美丽的绿草中长着一棵小小的雏菊。太阳温暖地、光明地照着它，正如太阳照着花园里那些大朵的美丽的花儿一样。因此它时时刻刻都在不停地生长。有一天早晨，它的花盛开了;它的光亮的小小花瓣，围绕一个金黄色的太阳的中心撒开来，简直像一圈光带。它从来没有想到，因为它生在草里，人们不会看到它，所以它要算是一种可怜的、卑微的小花。不，它却是很高兴，它把头掉向太阳，瞧着太阳，静听百灵鸟在高空中唱歌。
小雏菊是那么快乐，好像这是一个伟大的节日似的。事实上这不过是星期一，小孩子都上学去了。当他们正坐在凳子上学习的时候，它就坐在它的小绿梗上向温暖的太阳光、向周围一切东西，学习了上帝的仁慈。雏菊觉得它在静寂中所感受到的一切，都被百灵鸟高声地、美妙地唱出来了。于是雏菊怀着尊敬的心情向着这只能唱能飞的鸟儿凝望，不过，它并不因为自己不能唱歌和飞翔就感到悲哀。
“我能看，也能听，”它想。“太阳照着我，风吻着我。啊，我真是天生的幸运!”
栅栏里面长着许多骄傲的名花——它们的香气越少，就越装模作样。牡丹尽量扩张，想要开得比玫瑰花还大，可是问题并不在于庞大。郁金香的颜色最华丽，它们也知道这个特点，所以它们就特别立得挺直，好叫人能更清楚地看到它们。它们一点也不理会外边的小雏菊，但是小雏菊却老是在看着它们。它心里想：“它们是多么富丽堂皇啊!是的，美丽的鸟儿一定会飞向它们，拜访它们!感谢上帝!我离它们那么近，我能有机会欣赏它们!”正当它在这样想的时候，“滴丽”——百灵鸟飞下来了，但是他并没有飞到牡丹或郁金香上面去——不，他却飞到草丛里微贱的小雏菊身边来了。雏菊快乐得惊惶起来，真是不知怎样办才好。
这只小鸟在它的周围跳着舞，唱着歌。