English Original
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon will Wake
And Free the Village
By making a Lake
This little poem was etched into everybody's minds and sometimes appeared on tea towels and grandma's embroidery.
The days went by slowly, quietly and most importantly, without any rain. There had been no rain in the valley for as long as the children could remember. The wells were starting to bring up muddy brown water and clothes had to be washed in yesterday's dishwater. The lawns had faded to a crisp biscuit colour and the flowers drooped their beautiful heads. Even the trees seemed to hang their branches like weary arms. The valley turned browner and drier and thirstier, every hot, baking day.
The townsfolk grew worried and would murmur to each other when passing with much shaking of heads and tut tuts. They would look upwards searching for rain clouds in the blue, clear sky, but none ever came.
"The tale of the Dragon cannot be true," said old Mrs Greywhistle, the shopkeeper.
"It hasn't moved an inch, I swear," replied her customer, tapping an angry foot.
It was now too hot for the children to play out in the direct sun and they would gather under the shade of the trees, digging holes in the dust and snapping brittle twigs.
"The Dragon will help us soon," said one child.
"He must do Something," agreed another.
"I'm sure he will."
They all nodded in agreement.
A week went by with no change, the people struggling along as best they could. Some were getting cross at the Dragon and would cast angry, sideways looks at it when passing. The villagers were becoming skinny eyed and sullen.
Meanwhile, the children had a plan.
Quickly and quietly, they moved invisibly around town, picking and plucking at the fading flowers. With outstretched arms and bouquets up to their chins, they rustled over to where the giant rock lay, as still as ever.
The boys and girls placed bunches of flowers around the Dragon in a big circle. They scattered petals around its head and over its nose, then danced around and around it, skipping and chanting the rhyme that they all knew so well.
In Times of Trouble
The Dragon Will Wake
And Save the Village
By making a Lake.
The searing heat made them dizzy and fuzzy and finally they all fell in a sprawling heap at the bottom of the mound. They looked up at the rock.
中文翻译
危难时刻至，
巨龙将苏醒，
造湖救村庄，
重获自由身。
这首小诗铭刻在每个人的心中，有时还会出现在茶巾和祖母的刺绣上。
日子缓慢而安静地流逝，最重要的是，没有下过一滴雨。山谷里久旱无雨，久到孩子们都记不清上次下雨是什么时候。井里开始冒出浑浊的泥水，衣服不得不用昨天的洗碗水来洗。草坪褪成了酥脆饼干般的颜色，花朵也低垂着它们美丽的头颅。就连树木也仿佛疲惫的手臂般低垂着枝条。每一个炎热、烘烤的日子里，山谷都变得更加枯黄、更加干燥、更加饥渴。
镇上的人们忧心忡忡，路过时会低声交谈，不住地摇头叹息。他们会仰望清澈的蓝天，寻找雨云的踪迹，但雨云从未出现。
“龙的传说不可能是真的，”店主格雷惠斯尔老太太说。
“我发誓，它一寸都没动过，”她的顾客回答道，愤怒地跺着脚。
现在天气太热了，孩子们无法在烈日下玩耍，他们聚集在树荫下，在尘土中挖洞，折断脆弱的小树枝。
“龙很快就会来帮我们的，”一个孩子说。
“他必须做点什么，”另一个孩子附和道。
“我相信他会的。”
他们都点头表示同意。
一周过去了，情况毫无变化，人们尽最大努力挣扎度日。有些人开始对龙感到生气，路过时会投去愤怒的、侧目的眼神。村民们变得眼神锐利、闷闷不乐。
与此同时，孩子们有了一个计划。
他们迅速而安静地、悄无声息地在镇上移动，采摘那些日渐凋零的花朵。他们双臂伸展，花束一直抱到下巴，沙沙作响地走向那块巨大的岩石，它一如既往地静静躺着。
男孩女孩们将一束束鲜花围绕着龙石摆成一个大圆圈。他们将花瓣撒在它的头和鼻子上，然后绕着它一圈又一圈地跳舞，边跳边唱那首他们熟知的童谣。
危难时刻至，
巨龙将苏醒，
造湖救村庄，
重获自由身。
灼热的高温让他们头晕目眩，最后他们全都四肢摊开地倒在土丘脚下。他们抬头望着岩石。