some great ships had been sent up towards the north pole，to explore the most distant coasts，and to try how far men might penetrate up there．for more than a year they had already been pushing their way among ice and mist，and had endured many hardships；and now the winter was begun，and the sun had disappeared．for many many weeks there would now be a long night．all around was a single field of ice；the ships had been made fast to it，and the snow had piled itself up in great masses，and out of these，huts had been built in the form of beehives， some of them large as our old grave-mounds，others only containing room enough for two or four men．but it was not dark，for the northern lights flamed red and blue，like great continual fireworks；and the snow glistened，so that the night here was one long，flaming twilight hour．when the gleam was brightest，the natives came in crowds，wonderful to behold in their hairy fur dresses；and they rode in sledges formed of blocks of ice，and brought with them furs in great bundles，so that the snow houses were furnshed with warm carpets；and，in turn，the furs also served for coverlets when the sailors went to bed under their roofs of snow，while outside it froze in far different fashion than in the hardest winter here with us．in our regions it was still the late autumn-time；and they thought of that up there，and thought of the sunshine at home，and of the yellow and red leaves on the trees．the clock showed that it was evening，and time to go to sleep；and in one of the huts two men had already stretched themselves out to rest．the younger of these had his best，dearest treasure，that he had brought from home-the bible which his grandmother had given him on his departure．every night it lay beneath his head，and he knew from his childish years what was written in it ．every day he read in the book，and often the holy words came into his mind where it is written，“if i take the wings of the morning，and flee into the uttermost parts of the sea，even there the art with me，and they right hand shall up-hold me”；and，under the influence of these words of truth and in faith，he closed his eyes，and sleep came upon him，and dreams-the manifestation of providence to the spirit．the soul lived and was working while the body was enjoying its rest：he felt this life，and it seemed to him as if dear old well-known melodies were sounding，as if the mild breezes of summer playing around him；and over his bed he beheld a brightness，as if something were shin-in in through the roof of snow．he lifted up his head，and behold，the bright gleam was neither wall nor roof， but came from the mighty pinions of an angel，into whose beaming face he was gazing．as if from the cup of a lily the angel arose from among the leaves of the bible，and on his stretching out his arm，the walls of the snow hut sank down around，as though they had been a light airy veil of mist；the green meadows and hillocks of home，and its russet woods，lay spread around him in the quiet sunshine of a beauteous autumn day；the nest of the stork was empty，but ripe fruit still clung to the wild apple tree，although the leaves had fallen；the red hips gleamed，and the magpie whistled in the green cage over the window of the peasant's cottage that was his home；the magpie whistled the tune that had been taught him，and the grandmother hung green food around the cage，as he，the grandson，had been accustomed to do；and the daughter of the blacksmith，very young and fair，stood the well drawing water，and nodded to the grand-dame，and the old woman nodded to her，and showed her a letter that had come from a long way off．that very morning the letter had arrived from the cold regions of the north-there where the grandson was resting in the hand of god．and they smiled and wept；and he，far away among the ice and snow，under the pinions of the angel，he，too，smiled and wept with them in spirit，for he saw them and heard them．

and from the letter they read aloud the words of holy writ，that in the uttermost parts of the sea．his right hand would be a stay and a safety．and the sound of a beauteous hymn welled up all around；and the angel spread his wings like a veil over the sleeping youth．the vision had fled，and it grew dark in the snow hut；but the bible rested beneath his head，and faith and hope dwelt in his soul．god was with him；and he carried home about with him in his heart，even in the uttermost parts of the sea．

在辽远的海极

有几艘大船开到北极去；它们的目的是要发现陆地和海的界线，同时也要试验一下，人类到底能够向前走多远。它们在雾和冰中已经航行了好几年，而且也吃过不少的苦头。现在冬天开始了，太阳已经不见了。漫长的黑夜将要一连持续好几个星期。四周是一望无际的冰块。船只已经凝结在冰块的中间。雪堆积得很高；从雪堆中人们建立起蜂窝似的小屋——有的很大，像我们的古冢；有的仅可以住下三四个人。但是这儿并不是漆黑一团，因为北极光射出红色和蓝色的光彩，像永远不灭的、大朵的焰火。雪发出亮光，这儿的夜晚是漫长的、笼罩着火红的暮色。

当天空是最亮的时候，当地的土人就成群结队地走出来。他们穿着毛茸茸的皮衣，样子非常新奇。他们坐着用冰块制作成的雪橇，运输大捆的兽皮，好使他们的雪屋能够铺上温暖的地毯。这些兽皮还可以当作被子和褥子使用。当外面正在结冰、冷得比我们严寒的冬天还要冷的时候，水手们就可以裹着这些被子睡觉。

在我们住的地方，这还不过是晚秋。住在冰天雪地里的他们也不禁想起了这件事情。他们记起了故乡的太阳光，同时也不免记起了挂在树上的红叶。钟上的时针指明这正是夜晚和睡觉的时候。事实上，冰屋里已经有两个人躺下来要睡了。

这两个人之中最年轻的那一位身边带着他最好和最贵重的宝物——一部《圣经》。这是他动身前他的祖母送给他的。他每天晚上把它放在枕头底下，他从儿童时代起就知道书里面写的是什么东西。他每天读一小段，而且每次翻开的时候，他就读到这几句能给他安慰的神圣的话语：“我若展开清晨的翅膀，飞到海极居住，就是在那里，你的手必引导我，你的右手，也必扶持我。”

他记住这些含有真理的话，怀着信心，闭起眼睛；于是他睡着了，做起梦来，梦就是上帝给他的精神上的启示。当身体在休息的时候，灵魂就活跃起来，他能感觉到这一点；这好像那些亲爱的、熟识的、旧时的歌声；这好像那在他身边吹动的、温暖的夏天的风。他从他睡的地方看到一片白光在他身上扩展开来，好像是一件什么东西从雪屋顶上照进来了似的。他抬起头来看，这白光并不是从墙上、或从天花板上射来的。它是从安琪儿肩上的两个大翅膀上射下来的。他朝他的发光的、温柔的脸上望去。

这位安琪儿从《圣经》的书页里升上来，好像是从百合的花萼里升上来似的，他伸开手臂，雪屋的墙在向下坠落，好像不过是一层轻飘的薄雾似的。故乡的绿草原、山丘和赤褐色的树林在美丽的秋天的太阳光中静静地展开来。鹳鸟的窝已经空了，但是野苹果树上仍然悬着熟透的苹果，虽然叶子都已经落掉了。野玫瑰射出红光；在他的家——一个农舍——的窗子面前，一只八哥正在一个小绿笼子里唱着歌，这只八哥所唱的就正是他以前教给它的那支歌。祖母在笼子上挂些鸟食，正如他——她的孙子——以前所做过的那样，铁匠的那个年轻而美丽的女儿，正站在井边汲水。她对祖母点着头，祖母也对她点点头，并且给她看一封远方的来信。这封信正是这天上午从北极寒冷的地方寄来的。她的孙子现在就在上帝保护之下，住在那儿。

她们不禁大笑起来，又不禁哭起来；而他住在远方的冰天雪地里，在安琪儿的双翼下，也不禁在精神上跟她们一起笑，一起哭，因为他能看见她们，听到她们的声音。

她们高声地读着信上所写的《圣经》上的话语：就是在辽远的海极居住，“你的右手，也必扶持我。”四周发出一阵动听的念圣诗的声音。安琪儿在这个睡梦中的年轻人身上，展开他的迷雾一般的翅膀。

他的梦做完了。雪屋里是一片漆黑，但是他的头底下放着《圣经》，他的心里充满了信心和希望，即使在这辽远的海极，上帝在他的身边，家也在他的身边！

这篇作品最先发表在《丹麦大众历书》里。安徒生在这里热忱地歌颂了上帝——这也是他儿时在他笃信上帝的父母的影响下所形成的信念的再现。“雪屋里一片漆黑，但是他的头底下放着《圣经》，他的心里充满了信心和希望。即使在这辽远的海极，上帝在他的身边，家也在他的身边！”对安徒生说来，上帝不是抽象的“神”，而是“信心”和“希望”的化身。人在困难的时候需要精神力量的支持，但安徒生在当时的现实社会中找不到这种力量，他只有在“上帝”身上寻求出路，他的出发点是人民，特别是那些善良勤劳的人民。