英汉双语故事精选
两分钟睡前简单英语小故事带翻译
两分钟睡前简单英语小故事带翻译1.两分钟睡前简单英语小故事带翻译篇一聪明的熊猫A little panda picks up a pumpkin and wants to take it home. but the pumpkin is too big. The panda can’t take it home. Suddenly she sees a bear riding a bike to ward her. she watches the bike. “ i know! I have a good idea.”She jumps and shouts happily, “i can roll a pumpki n. It like a wheel.”So she rolls the pumpkin to her home. When her mother sees the big pumpkin, she is surprised,“oh, my god! How can you carry it home?”The little panda answers proudly,“I can ‘t lift it ,but I can roll it.”Her mother smiled and says，“ what a clever girl !Use you heard to do something,”一只小熊猫摘了一只大南瓜，想把它拿回家。
但是这只南瓜太大了，她没有办法把这么大的南瓜带回家。
突然她看见一只狗熊骑着一辆自行车朝她这边来。
她看着自行车，跳着说：“有了!我有办法了。
我可以把南瓜滚回家去。
南瓜好像车轮。
于是她把那瓜滚回家。
当她妈妈看到这只大南瓜的时候，很惊讶：“天啊!这么食的南瓜!你是怎么把它带回家来的?”小熊猫自豪地说;“我拎不动它，可是我能滚动它啊!”她妈妈微笑着说：“真聪明啊!记住：只要你肯动脑筋，没有难办的事”。
一年级小学生英语双语故事（六篇）
【导语】英语故事会出现学⽣认识或是不认识的单词，⽽这个单词的重复不断出现，会加深同学们对单词的记忆，这种记忆不同于⼀般的死记硬背，⽽是在潜移默化中，让学⽣记住单词，并且不枯燥。
以下是⽆忧考整理的《⼀年级⼩学⽣英语双语故事（六篇）》，希望帮助到您。
⼀年级⼩学⽣英语双语故事篇⼀ 聪明的机器⼈ Smart Robot Look, this robot carries boxes to build blocks! The new smart robot, Sorry, is 60 centimeters high. It weighs 7.5 kilogram. It has a camera “eye” on its head. It can recognize colors and human faces. 聪明的机器⼈瞧!这个机器⼈在搬盒⼦搭积⽊呢?索尼公司新设计的这个聪明的机器⼈有60⾥⾯7.5千克重。
它额头上有⼀只相机“眼睛”，能够辨认颜⾊和⼈脸。
⼀年级⼩学⽣英语双语故事篇⼆ ⾹蕉午餐 Bananas for Lunch A fat monkey likes eating bananas very much. He had bananas for lunch. He peeled one and ate one more and then, one more one banana, two bananas, three bananas, four… He ate and ate, but he wanted more, he peeled and he ate, peeled and he ate, five bananas, six bananas, seven bananas, eight … He peeled two more and continued two more. He ate whole bunch of bananas and can’t sleep. ⾹蕉午餐⼀只⼩胖猴⼦很喜欢吃⾹蕉。
Professions for Women 女人职业_儿童英汉双语故事_0
Professions for Women 女人职业_儿童英汉双语故事Born in England, Virginia Woolf was the daughter of Leslie Stephen, a well-known scholar. She was educated primarily at home and attributed her love of reading to the early and complete access she was given to her fathers library. With her husband, Leonard Woolf, she founded the Hogarth Press and became known as member of the Bloomsbury group of intellectuals, which included economist John Maynard Keynes, biographer Lytton Strachey, novelist E. M. Forster, and art historian Clive Bell. Although she was a central figure in London literary life, Woolf often saw herself as isolated from the mains stream because she was a woman. Woolf is best known for her experimental, modernist novels, including Mrs. Dalloway(1925) and To the Lighthouse(1927) which are widely appreciated for her breakthrough into a new mode and technique--the stream of consciousness. In her diary and CRItical essays she has much to say about women and fiction. Her 1929 book A Room of Ones Own documents her desire for women to take their rightful place in literary history and as an essayist she has occupied a high place in 20th century literature. The common Reader (1925 first series; 1932 second series) has acquired classic status. She also wrote short stories and biographies. Professions for Women taken from The collected Essays V ol 2. is originally a paper Woolf read to the Womens ServiceLeague, an organization for professional women in London.When your secretary invited me to come here, she told me that your Society is concerned with the employment of women and she suggested that I might tell you something about my own professional experiences. It is true that I am a woman; it is true I am employed; but what professional experiences have I had? It is difficult to say. My profession is literature; and in that profession there are fewer experiences for women than in any other, with the exception of the stage--fewer, I mean, that are peculiar to women. For the road was cut many years ago---by Fanny Burney, by Aphra Behn, by Harriet Martineau, by Jane Austen, by George Eliot many famous women, and many more unknown and forgotten, have been before me, making the path smooth, and regulating my steps. Thus, when I came to write, there were very few material obstacles in my way. Writing was a reputable and harmless occupation. The family peace was not broken by the scratching of a pen. No demand was made upon the family purse. For ten and sixpence one can buy paper enough to write all the plays of Shakespeare--if one has a mind that way. Pianos and models, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin, masters and mistresses, are not needed by a writer. The cheapness of writing paper is, of course, the reason why women have succeeded as writers before they have succeeded in the other professions.But to tell you my story--it is a simple one. You have only got tofigure to yourselves a girl in a bedroom with a pen in her hand. She had only to move that pen from left to right--from ten oclock to one. Then it occurred to her to do what is simple and cheap enough after all--to slip a few of those pages into an envelope, fix a penny stamp in the corner, and drop the envelope into the red box at the corner. It was thus that I became a journalist; and my effort was rewarded on the first day of the following month--a very glorious day it was for me--by a letter from an editor containing a check for one pound ten shillings and sixpence. But to show you how little I deserve to be called a professional woman, how little I know of the struggles and difficulties of such lives, I have to admit that instead of spending that sum upon bread and butter, rent, shoes and stockings, or butchers bills, I went out and bought a cat--a beautiful cat, a Persian cat, which very soon involved me in bitter disputes with my neighbors.What could be easier than to write articles and to buy Persian cats with the profits? But wait a moment. Articles have to be about something. Mine, I seem to remember, was about a novel by a famous man. And while I was writing this review, I discovered that if I were going to review books I should need to do battle with a certain phantom. And the phantom was a woman, and when I came to know her better I called her after the heroine of a famous poem, The Angel in the House. It was she who used to come between me an my paper when I was writing reviews.It was she who bothered me and wasted my time and so tormented me that at last I killed her. You who come off a younger and happier generation may not have heard of her--you may not know what I mean by The Angel in the House. I will desCRIbe her as shortly as I can. She was intensely sympathetic. She was immensely charming. She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult arts of family life. She saCRIficed herself daily. If there was chicken, she took the leg; if there was a draft she sat in it--in short she was so constituted that she never had a mind or a wish of her own, but preferred to sympathize always with the minds and wishes of others. Above all--I need not say it--she was pure. Her purity was supposed to be her chief beauty--her blushes, her great grace. In those days--the last of Queen Victoria--every house had its Angel. And when I came to write I encountered her with the very first words. The shadow of her wings fell on my page; I heard the rustling of her skirts in the room. Directly, that is to say, I took my pen in my hand to review that novel by a famous man, she slipped behind me and whispered:My dear, you are a young woman. You are writing about a book that has been written by a man. Be sympathetic; be tender; flatter; deceive; use all the art and wiles of our sex. Never let anybody guess that you have a mind of our own. Above all, be pure. And she made as if to guide my pen. I now record the one act for which I take some credit to myself, though the credit rightly belongs to some excellent ancestors of mine who left me acertain sum of money--shall we say five hundred pounds a year? --so that it was not necessary for me to depend solely on charm for my living. I turned upon her and caught her by the throat. I did my best to kill her. My excuse, If I were to be had up in a court of law, would be that I acted in self-defense. Had I not killed her she would have killed me. She would have plucked the heart out of my writing. For, as I found, directly I put pen to paper, you cannot review even a novel without having a mind of your own, without expressing what you think to be the truth about human relations, morality, sex. And all these questions, according to the Angel of the House, cannot be dealt with freely and openly by women; they must charm, they must conciliate, they mustto put it bluntly-tell lies if they are to succeed. Thus, whenever I felt the shadow of her wing or the radiance of her halo upon my page, I took up the inkpot and flung it at her. She died hard. Her fictitious nature was of great assistance to her. It is far harder to kill a phantom than a reality. She was always creeping back when I thought I had dispatched her. Though I flatter myself that I killed her in the end, the struggle was severe; it took much time that had better have been spent upon learning Greek grammar; or in roaming the world in search of adventures. But it was a real experience; It was an experience that was bound befall all women writers at that time. Killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of a woman writer.But to continue my story. The Angel was dead; what then remained?You may say that what remained was a simple and common object--a young woman in a bedroom with an inkpot. In other words, now that she had rid herself of falsehood, that young woman had only to be herself. Ah, but what is herself? I mean, what is a woman? I assure you, I do not know.I do not believe that you know. I do not believe that anybody can know until she has expressed herself in all the arts and professions open to human skill. That indeed is one of the reasons why I have come here--out of respect for you, who are in process of showing us by your experiments what a woman is, who are in process of providing us, by your failures and succeeded, with that extremely important piece of information.But to continue the story of my professional experiences. I made one pound ten and six by my first review; and I bought a Persian cat with the proceeds. Then I grew ambitious. A Persian cat is all very well, I said; but a Persian cat is not enough. I must have a motorcar. And it was thus that I became a novelist--for it is a very strange thing that people will give you a motorcar if you will tell them a story. It is a still stranger thing that there is nothing so delightful in the world as telling stories. It is far pleasanter than writing reviews of famous novels. And yet, if I am to obey your secretary and tell you my professional experiences as a novelist, I must tell you about a very strange experience that befell me as a novelist. And to understand it you must try first to imagine a novelists state of mind. I hope I am not giving away professional secrets if I say that a novelistschief desire is to be as unconscious as possible. He has to induce in himself a state of perpetual lethargy. He wants life to proceed with the utmost quiet and regularity. He wants to see the same faces, to read the same books, to do the same things day after day, month after month, while he is writing, so that nothing may break the illusion in which he is living--so that nothing may disturb or disquiet the mysterious nosings about, feelings round, darts, dashes, and sudden discoveries of that very shy and illusive spirit, the imagination. I suspect that this state is the same both for men and women. Be that as it may, I want you to imagine me writing a novel in a state of trance. I want you to figure to yourselves a girl sitting with a pen in her hand, which for minutes, and indeed for hours, she never dips into the inkpot. The image that comes to my mind when I think of this girl is the image of a fisherman lying sunk in dreams on the verge of a deep lake with a rod held out over the water. She was letting her imagination sweep unchecked round every rock and cranny of the world that lies submerged in the depths of our unconscious being. Now came the experience that I believe to be far commoner with women writers than with men. The line raced through the girls fingers. Her imagination had rushed away. It had sought the pools, the depths, the dark places where the largest fish slumber. And then there was a smash. There was an explosion. There was foam and confusion. The imagination had dashed itself against something hard. The girl was roused from her dream.She was indeed in a state of the most acute and difficult distress. To speak without figure, she had thought of something, something about the body, about the passions which it was unfitting for her as a woman to say. Men, her reason told her, would be shocked. The consciousness of what men will say of a woman who speaks the truth about her passions had roused her from her artists state of unconsciousness. She could write no more. The trace was over. Her imagination could work no longer. This I believe to be a very common experience with women writers--they are impeded by the extreme conventionality of the other sex. For though men sensibly allow themselves great freedom in these respects, I doubt that they realize or can control the extreme severity with which they condemn such freedom in women.These then were two very genuine experiences of my own. These were two of the adventures of my professional life. The first--killing the Angel in the House--I think I solved. She died. But the second, telling the truth about my own experiences as a body, I do not think I solved. I doubt that any woman has solved it yet. The obstacles against her are still immensely powerful--and yet they are very difficult to define. Outwardly, what is simpler than to write books? Outwardly, what obstacles are there for a woman rather than for a man? Inwardly, I think, the case is very different; she has still many ghosts to fight, many prejudices to overcome. Indeed it will be a long time still, I think, before a woman can sit down towrite a book without finding a phantom to be slain, a rock to be dashed against. And if this is so in literature, the freest of all professions for women, how is it in the new professions which you are now for the first time entering?Virginia Woolf。
经典英语小故事十篇整理
经典英语小故事十篇整理多阅读一些英语童话小（故事），会提高孩子的（英语阅读）力量而且对口语和词汇量的增加也有所关心。
下面就是我整理的经典英语小故事十篇，盼望大家喜爱。
经典英语小故事（一）：A mouse once took a bite out of a bulls tail as he lay dozing。
The bull jumped up in a rage and，with his head low to the ground，chased the mouse right across the yard。
The mouse was too quick for him，however，and slipped easily into a hole in the wall。
The bull charged the wall furiously again and again，but although he bruised his head and chipped his horns，the mouse stayed safely inside his hole。
After a time the bull gave up and sank down to rest again。
As soon as the bull was asleep，the little mouse crept to the mouth of the hole，pattered across the yard，bit the bull again -- this time on the nose -- and rushed back to safety。
As the bull roared helplessly the mouse squeaked:Its not always the big people who e off best。
小偷_儿童英汉双语故事
小偷_儿童英汉双语故事Thief小偷He is waiting for the airline ticket counter when he first notices the young woman. She has glossy black hair pulled tightly into a knot at the back of her bead-the man imagines it loosed and cascading to the small of her back-and carries over she shoulder of her leather coat a heavy black purse. She wears black boots of soft leather. He struggles to see her face-she is ahead of him in line-but it is not until she has bought her ticket and turns to walk away that he realizes her beauty, which is pale and dark-eyed and full-mouthed, and which quickens his heart beat. She seems aware that he is staring at her and lowers her gaze abruptly.他第一次注意到那个年轻女人，是在他到航空公司售票处排队买票的时候。
她的乌黑发亮的一头秀发在脑后紧紧地终成一个客。
那人想象着那头秀发披散开来瀑布般落在腰间的情形，只见那女人穿着皮外套的肩上挎着一个沉甸甸的黑色坤包，脚上穿着一双黑色软皮靴。
他竭力想看到她的容貌，她就排在他的前面。
但是，一直到她买好票走开，他才睹她的芳容：雪白的皮肤，马里发亮的眼睛，丰满的嘴唇。
[中英双语小故事阅读短篇带翻译]英汉双语故事
![[中英双语小故事阅读短篇带翻译]英汉双语故事](https://img.taocdn.com/s3/m/d610888048d7c1c709a1455f.png)
[中英双语小故事阅读短篇带翻译]英汉双语故事中英双语小故事阅读短篇带翻译中英双语小故事阅读短篇带翻译中英双语小故事阅读：金钱包A beggar found a leather purse that someone had dropped in the marketplace. Opening it, he discovered that it contained 100 pieces of gold. Then he heard a merchant shout,“A reward! A reward to the one who finds my leather purse!” 一个乞丐在集市捡到了一个别人遗失的皮钱包。
他打开钱包一看，发现里面有100枚金币。
这时，他听到一个商人大声叫喊：“有重谢啊!谁发现我的皮钱包有重谢啊!” Being an honest man, the beggar came forward and handed the purse to the merchant saying,“Here is your purse. May I have the reward now” 乞丐很诚实，走过去把钱包递给商人说：“这是你的钱包吧，我现在可以得到重谢了吗” “Reward”scoffed the merchant, greedily counting his gold.“Why, the purse I dropped had 200 pieces of gold in it. You“ve already stolen more than the reward! Go away or I“ll tell the police.” “重谢”商人一边贪婪地数着金币，一边嘲讽地说，“啊，我丢失的钱包里有200枚金币，你偷走的金币比我要给你重谢的还要多。
走开，不然我要叫警察了!” “I"m an honest man,”said the beggar defiantly,“Let us take this matter to the court.” “我是个诚实的人!”乞丐反驳道，“我们到法庭评理去!” In court the judge patiently listened to both sides of the story and said,“I believe you both. Justice is possible! Merchan t, you stated that the purse you lost contained 200 pieces of gold. Well, that"s a considerable cost. But, the purse this beggar found had only 100 pieces of gold. Therefore, it couldn"t be the one you lost.” 法庭上，法官耐心地听完双方的陈述，然后说：“我相信你们两个人，法律是公正的!商人，你说你丢失的钱包里有200枚金币，这可是相当大的一笔钱。
希望之星英语级小故事英汉对照含个寓言故事完整版
The Crow drink waterOne day, a little crow was very thirsty, and he wanted to find some water to drink. Then he found a bottle, which had water in it. The crow was very happy and came to the bottle. But when he got close to it, he found that there was only a little water in it. The water was so low that he could not reach it.The little crow was so thirsty but he could not drink the water. What should he do Then he had a good idea! He found there were many little stones around the bottle. He put a little stone into the bottle, and the water came up for a little. The crow was veryhappy. Then, he put another stone intothe bottle. He kept on putting stonesinto the bottle, and finally, thewater came up to the mouth of thebottle, and the crow could reach thewater.The crow could drink the water now.How smart the crow is! I want to be asmart person like the crow! Thank youfor listening!乌鸦喝水有一天，一只乌鸦口渴了，想找水喝。
英汉双语故事：守株待兔
英汉双语故事：守株待兔Staying by a Stump Waiting for More Hares To Come and Dash Themselves Against ItThis story took place more than 2,000 years ago,in the Warring States period（475-221 B.C.）.Tradition has it that in the State of Song at that time there was a man who was famous for staying by a stump waiting for more hares to come and dash themselves against it.He was a yong farmer,and his family had been farmers for generations.Year after year and generation after generation, farmers used to sow in spring and harvest in autumn,beginning to work at sunrise and retiring at sunset.In good harvest years,they could only have enough food to eat and enough clothing to wear.If there was a famine due to cropfailure,they had to go hungry.This young farmer wanted to improve his life.But he was too lazy and too cowardly.Being lazy and cowardly over everything,he often dreamed of having unexpected blessings.A miracle took place at last. One day in late autumn,when he was ploughing in the field,two groups of people were hunting nearby.As shoutings were rising one afteranother,scared hares were running desperately.Suddenly,ablind hare dashed itself headlong against the stump of a dead tree in his field and died.That day,he ate his fill.From that day on,he no longer went in for farmingagain.From morning till night,he stayed by that miraculous stump,waiting for miracles to take place again.This story comes from"The Five Vermin"in The Works of Han ter generations often use the set phrase"staying by a stump waiting for more hares to come and dash themselves against it"to show grusting to chance and windfalls or dreaming to reap without sowing.It is also used to show adhering to narrow experiences and not being able to be flexible.。
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英汉双语故事精选
故事文学体裁的一种，侧重于事件发展过程的描述。
强调情节的生动性和连贯性，较适于口头讲述。
已经发生事。
或者想象故事。
某些故事是人类对自身历史的一种记忆行为，人们通过多种故事形式，叙述一个带有寓意的事件。
下面是店铺为大家带来英汉双语故事精选，希望大家喜欢!
英汉双语故事精选：北风和太阳
The North Wind and the Sun disputed as to which was the most powerful, and agreed that he should be declared the victor who could strip a wayfaring man of his clothes.
北风和太阳为谁的威力更大而争执不下。
它们一致同意，谁若是能够让过路人脱下衣服谁就是胜利者。
The North Wind first tried his power and blew with all his might, but the keener his blasts, the closer the Traveler wrapped his cloak around him, until at last, resigning all hope of victory, the North Wind called upon the Sun to see what he could do.
北风首先一显身手，用劲全力刮了起来，可是，它刮得越猛裂，过路人把斗蓬裹得越紧，最后只得放弃了获胜的希望。
于是，北风只好请太阳一试身手。
The Sun suddenly shone out with all his warmth. The Traveler no sooner felt his genial rays than he took off one garment after another, and at last, fairly overcome with heat, undressed and bathed in a stream that lay in his path.
太阳突然释放出它全部的温暖。
过路人感受到了它亲切的光芒，一件一件地脱掉衣服，最后终于抵挡不住炎热，脱光衣服，到路边的小溪里游泳去了。
"I think that proves who is strongest," said the Sun. But the North Wind had crept away to hide.
太阳说：“我想，这足以证明谁更强大了吧。
”此时，风早已悄
悄地溜走，藏了起来。
英汉双语故事精选：淘气的袋鼠
There was a small Kangaroo who was bad in school. He put thumbtacks on the teacher's chair. He threw spitballs across the classroom. He set off firecrackers in the lavatory and spread glue on the doorknobs.
有这么一只小袋鼠，它在学校里非常淘气。
它在老师的椅子上放图钉，在教室里扔纸团，在厕所里放鞭炮，还往门把手上抹胶水。
“Your behavior is impossible!”said the school principal.“I am going to see your parents. I will tell them what a problem you are!”
“你的行为真让人无法忍受!”校长说,“我要去见见你的父母，告诉它们你的问题!”
The principal went to visit Mr. and Mrs. Kangaroo. He sat down in a living-room chair.
校长去拜访袋鼠夫妇。
它坐在客厅的椅子上。
“Ouch!”cried the principal.“There is a thumbtack in this chair!”
“哎哟!”校长叫道，“这把椅子上有个图钉!”
“Yes, I know,”said Mr. Kangaroo.“I enjoy putting thumbtacks in chairs.”
“是的，我知道，”袋鼠先生说，“我喜欢把图钉放在椅子上。
”
At the same time, a spitball hit the principal on his nose.
就在这时，一个纸团飞过来打在了校长的鼻子上。
“Forgive me,”said Mrs. Kangaroo,“But I can never resist throwing those things.”
“请原谅，”袋鼠夫人说,“我总是控制不住想扔那些东西。
”
Suddenly, there was a loud booming sound from the bathroom.
突然，浴室里传来一声巨响。
“Keep calm,”said Mr. Kangaroo to the principal.“The firecrackers that we keep in the medicine chest have just exploded. We love the noise.”
“别紧张，”袋鼠先生对校长说,“我们放在药箱里的鞭炮爆炸了，我们喜欢这种声音。
”
The principal rushed for the front door. In an instant he was stuck to the doorknob.
校长冲向前门，刚要开门，手就被粘在了门把手上。
“Pull hard,”said Mrs. Kangaroo.“There are little globs o f glue on all of our doorknobs.”
“使劲儿拽，”袋鼠夫人说，“我们所有的门把手上都有点儿胶水。
”
The principal pulled himself free. He dashed out of the house and ran off down the street.
校长挣脱后，冲出屋子，沿着街道跑了。
“Such a nice person,”said Mr. Kangaroo.“I wonder why he left so quickly.”
“它真是个好人，”袋鼠先生说,“我不明白它为什么这么快就走了。
”
“No doubt he had another appointment,”said Mrs. Kangaroo.“Never mind, supper is ready.”
“它准是还有个约会，”袋鼠夫人说，“没关系，吃晚饭吧。
”
Mr. and Mrs. Kangaroo and their son enjoyed their evening meal. After the dessert, they all threw spitballs at each other across the dining-room table.
袋鼠夫妇和儿子津津有味地共进了晚餐。
吃完甜点后，它们在饭桌旁互相扔起纸团来。