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《麦琪的礼物》的原文（中文的）！~

欧·亨利《麦琪的礼物》的原文：
吉姆好像从恍惚之中醒来，把德拉紧紧地搂在怀里。现在，别着急，先让我们花个十秒钟从另一角度审慎地思索一下某些无关紧要的事。
房租每周八美元，或者一百万美元——那有什么差别呢？数学家或才子会给你错误的答案。麦琪带来了宝贵的礼物，但就是缺少了那件东西。这句晦涩的话，下文将有所交代。
吉姆从大衣口袋里掏出一个小包，扔在桌上。
“别对我产生误会，德尔，”他说道，“无论剪发、修面，还是洗头，我以为世上没有什么东西能降低一点点对我妻子的爱情。不过，你只要打开那包东西，就会明白刚才为什么是我楞头楞脑了。”
白皙的手指灵巧地解开绳子，打开纸包。紧接着是欣喜若狂的尖叫，哎呀！突然变成了女性神经质的泪水和哭泣，急需男主人千方百计的慰藉。
还是因为摆在桌上的梳子——全套梳子，包括两鬓用的，后面的，样样俱全。那是很久以前德拉在百老汇的一个橱窗里见过并羡慕得要死的东西。这些美妙的发梳，纯玳瑁做的，边上镶着珠宝——其色彩正好同她失去的美发相匹配。
她明白，这套梳子实在太昂贵，对此，她仅仅是羡慕渴望，但从未想到过据为己有。现在，这一切居然属于她了，可惜那有资格佩戴这垂涎已久的装饰品的美丽长发已无影无踪了。
不过，她依然把发梳搂在胸前，过了好一阵子才抬起泪水迷蒙的双眼，微笑着说：“我的头发长得飞快，吉姆！”
随后，德拉活像一只被烫伤的小猫跳了起来，叫道，“喔！喔！”
吉姆还没有瞧见他的美丽的礼物哩。她急不可耐地把手掌摊开，伸到他面前，那没有知觉的贵重金属似乎闪现着她的欢快和热忱。
“漂亮吗，吉姆？我搜遍了全城才找到了它。现在，你每天可以看一百次时间了。把表给我，我要看看它配在表上的样子。”
吉姆非但不按她的吩咐行事，反而倒在睡椅上，两手枕在头下，微微发笑。
“德尔，”他说，“让我们把圣诞礼物放在一边，保存一会儿吧。它们实在太好了，目前尚不宜用。我卖掉金表，换钱为你买了发梳。现在，你做肉排吧。”
正如诸位所知，麦琪是聪明人，聪明绝顶的人，他们把礼物带来送给出生在马槽里的耶稣。他们发明送圣诞礼物这玩意儿。由于他们是聪明人，毫无疑问，他们的礼物也是聪明的礼物，如果碰上两样东西完全一样，可能还具有交换的权利。
在这儿，我已经笨拙地给你们介绍了住公寓套间的两个傻孩子不足为奇的平淡故事，他们极不明智地为了对方而牺牲了他们家最最宝贵的东西。
不过，让我们对现今的聪明人说最后一句话，在一切馈赠礼品的人当中，那两个人是最聪明的。
在一切馈赠又接收礼品的人当中，像他们两个这样的人也是最聪明的。无论在任何地方，他们都是最聪明的人。
他们就是圣贤。

扩展资料写作背景：
讲述了一对穷困的年轻夫妇忍痛割爱互赠圣诞礼物的故事，反映了美国下层人民生活的艰难，赞美了主人公善良的心地和纯真爱情。
欧·亨利出生于美国的一个医生家庭，幼年丧母，在其少年时期，家道没落，15岁的他开始进入社会谋生，独自承担起生活的重任。
他做过药房学徒，当过牧羊工，在银行做过出纳和会计的工作，在土地局当过办事员。不同的工作经历和生活体验以及独自一人在社会中闯荡使年幼的欧·亨利过早的体会到了生活的不易与艰辛。
在底层社会生活的他不仅要为生活的琐事而操心，而且上层社会的剥夺与压榨更让他的生活穷困潦倒。生活在底层生活的欧·亨利自觉为小人物立言，自命是纽约四百多万贫民的代表。
作者的生存环境与所处的阶层在《麦琪的礼物》这篇小说中都有所体现，主人公所处的社会阶级以及生活的艰苦与辛酸也是欧·亨利的个人写照。
19世纪的美国资本主义垄断正在急剧发展，企业和工厂的资本家为了获得更高的利润加大了对工人的压榨，社会的贫富悬殊越来严重，而作家欧·亨利的妻子正是在这一时期去世的，经济能力较差的欧·亨利与妻子艾斯蒂斯相识于一次舞会并相爱。
但是艾斯蒂斯的家人十分反对，艾斯蒂斯最终不顾家人的意见与欧·亨利结为了夫妻，尽管日子艰辛但却幸福甜蜜，后期欧·亨利由于被怀疑拖欠银行一笔钱而离开病重的妻子，到乡下避难，直至妻子去世都没有见到最后一面，《麦琪的礼物》是对妻子的愧疚与思念的见证。
在创作动力源泉上来源于对美国底层社会生活的解剖和反映，尤其是对于美国贫富悬殊的一种揭露，并将这与爱情、亲情以及生活中的各个细节联系起来，尤其是在作品的整体艺术表达中，这些都源于欧·亨利对妻子的缅怀。
欧·亨利以广大下层人民群众困苦生活中的美好爱情为主题。对当时金钱至上的资本主义社会进行了尖锐和辛辣的讽刺，对广大人民群众悲苦人生挣扎中的互相关心和自我牺牲精神以及患难之中见真情的美好爱情加以了赞颂。
它生生不息的艺术魅力就在于作者把人物的性格特征放在情节中展示，注重故事中人物的行动，从而揭示出主人公勇于奉献的性格特征和他们之间可歌可泣的纯朴爱情。
吉姆和德拉，即使只是生活在社会底层的小人物，却拥有着对生活的热情和对对方的深爱，在这些温暖的感情面前，贫困可以变得微不足道。虽然最终彼此的礼物对于对方而言已失去使用价值，但是德拉和吉姆却得到了人世间比礼物更宝贵的东西，那就是无价的爱。

Della wants to buy Jim, her husban ,a gift for Chrismas,but she has little money.So she sells her most important pocession--her hair,and buys an elegant platinum watch chain for Jim. On Chrismas Day,Jim shows his gift for Della,Della opens the box and cries out in joy, only to burst into tears immediately afterward. Jim has given her the set of fancy combs she's wanted for ages, only now she has no hair for them. .The she show Jim the watch chain.Jim smiles, falling back on the couch. He sold his watch to buy Della's combs, he explains. He recommends they put away their presents and have dinner. As they do so, the narrator brings the story to a close by pronouncing that Della and Jim are the wisest of everyone who gives gifts. They are the magi.

THE GIFT OF THE MAGIOne dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to , though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only .87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only .87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”

The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling—something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty’s jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: “Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the “Sofronie.”

“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.

“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it.”

Down rippled the brown cascade.

“Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

“Give it to me quick,” said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present.

---

跪求《麦琪的礼物》英文和原文翻译 悬赏 急~急~急~急！！！！！！！视频