English Original
This story begins with "Once Upon A Time," as the best stories do.
Imagine a steep-sided valley, cluttered with giant, spiky green pine trees and thick grass that reaches your socks, making you lift your knees high to run through it. Wildflowers spread their sweet, heady perfume on the gentle breeze, while bees hum musically as they collect pollen.
The people here are happy and hardworking, keeping their houses spick and span and their children's faces clean.
That particular summer was very hot and dry. The lean farm dogs grew sleepy and still. Farmers whistled lazily, staring into the distance, trying to remember their tasks. By two in the afternoon, the town was in a haze of slumber—grandmas nodded off over their knitting, and farmers snoozed in the haystacks. It was intensely hot.
No matter the heat, the children always played in the gentle, rolling meadows. With wide-brimmed hats and skin slippery with sunblock, they chittered and chattered like sparrows as they frolicked in their favorite spot.
This spot is crucial to our story, for there lies a large, long, scaly rock that looks remarkably like a sleeping dragon.
The children knew it was a dragon. The grown-ups knew it was a dragon. Even the dogs, cats, and birds knew. But no one was scared, for it never, ever moved.
The boys and girls would clamber all over it, poking it with sticks and hanging wet gumboots on its ears, but it didn't mind in the least. The men would sometimes chop firewood on its zigzagged tail—it was just the right height—and the Ladies' Weaving Group often spun sheep's fleece on its spikes.
On cool nights, when stars twinkled in a velvet sky and the children slept peacefully, the grown-ups would settle in with a mug of steaming cocoa. Then, the stories about how the dragon got there would begin. No one knew for sure; there were many versions depending on the family telling the tale. But one thing everybody agreed on was this:
中文翻译
这个故事以“很久很久以前”开头，最好的故事都是如此。
想象一个陡峭的山谷，长满了巨大、尖刺的绿色松树和茂密的青草，草高及袜口，跑起来得像涉水一样高抬膝盖。野花在微风中散发着甜美醉人的芬芳，蜜蜂一边欢快地采集花粉，一边发出音乐般的嗡嗡声。
这里的人们快乐而勤劳，把房子收拾得一尘不染，孩子们的脸也干干净净。
那个夏天异常炎热干燥。瘦长的农场狗变得昏昏欲睡，一动不动。农夫们懒洋洋地吹着口哨，凝视远方，努力回想自己该做什么。下午两点，整个小镇便笼罩在昏睡的薄雾中——老奶奶们织着毛衣打起了盹，农夫们在干草垛里小憩。天气非常、非常热。
无论天气多热，孩子们总会在平缓起伏的草地上玩耍。他们戴着宽边帽，身上涂着滑溜溜的防晒霜，像麻雀一样叽叽喳喳，在他们最喜爱的地方嬉戏。
这个地方对我们的故事至关重要，因为那里有一块巨大、狭长、布满鳞片的岩石，看起来酷似一条沉睡的龙。
孩子们知道那是龙。大人们知道那是龙。连狗、猫和鸟儿都知道。但没人害怕，因为它从来、从来不动。
男孩女孩们会在它身上爬上爬下，用棍子戳它，把湿漉漉的防水胶靴挂在它的耳朵上，但它一点也不介意。男人们有时会在它锯齿状的尾巴上劈柴——高度正合适——妇女编织小组也常在它的尖刺上纺羊毛。
在凉爽的夜晚，当星星在天鹅绒般的夜空中闪烁，孩子们安然入睡时，大人们会端着一杯热气腾腾的可可，舒服地坐在软垫扶手椅里。这时，关于龙如何来到那里的故事就开始了。没人确切知道，每个家庭讲述的版本都不同。但有一件事是大家都同意的，那就是：