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Sarantos

The Little Match Girl

Lyricist:Sarantos
Composer:Sarantos

The Little Match Girl
By Hans Christian Andersen

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and
evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went
along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet.

When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good
of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto
worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she
scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by
dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by
an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a
cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the
little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet that were quite red and
blue from the cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and
she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her
the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger -- a very picture of sorrow,
the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls
around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From
all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of
roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the
other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she
had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home
she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring
a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at
home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which
the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with
straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! A match might afford
her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the
bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one
out. 'Rischt!' how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like
a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed
really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron
stove, with burnished brass feet and a brash ornament at top. The fire
burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little
girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but the small
flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-
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out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the
light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that
she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white
tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose
was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And
what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from
the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it
came upon the poor little girl; when -- the match went out and nothing
but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match.
Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it
was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen
through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-
colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop windows, looked down
upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when --
the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and
higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a
long trail of fire.

'Someone is just dead!' said the little girl; for her only grandmother, the
only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her,
that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the
lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and
with such an expression of love.

'Grandmother!' cried the little one. 'Oh, take me with you! You go away
when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the
delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!' And she
rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she
wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the
matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day:
never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She
took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy
so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--
they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy
cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to
death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there
with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. 'She wanted to
warm herself,' people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what
beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in
which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.