The Little Match Girl

It was terribly cold, the snow fell and was nearly dark, the night fell, the last night of the year.In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, the feet and bareheaded, walked the streets.When he left home wore slippers but nothing adiantavam, slippers were so big for his little trotters, old slippers were his mother.The little girl lost them when they slipped on the road, where two carriages went awfully fast, bouncing.One slipper was no longer found, and a boy seized the other and fled running.Then the little girl walked barefoot - as red and blue with cold.In an old apron carrying some matches, and a feixinho them on hand.Nobody had bought any that day, and she gained even a nickel.Shivering with cold and hunger, there was almost trashes the poor girl, a true picture of misery!The flakes of snow covered her long hair, which fell on the neck in beautiful curls, but now she does not think about it.Lights shone in all windows, and filled the air a delicious smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve.Yes, she thought about it!In a corner formed by two houses, one of which advanced more than the other, the little girl sat, lifted my feet, but felt a chill even greater.He dared not go home without selling even a match, and therefore without a single penny.The father naturally thrash and also in the house was cold because they had nothing for shelter, except a roof where the wind whistled through the cracks larger, covered with straw and rags.
Her little hands were stiff with cold.Ah! well that a match would do him good, if she could only take one of the wrapping, scratching on the wall and your hands in warm light!He took a: trec! Phosphorus released sparks lit up.It was a warm bright flame, like a little candle when she sheltered in cupped hand ...What marvelous light!With that flame imagined that the little girl was sitting before a great polished stove, with polished copper base, as well as the hood.As the fire burned! How comfortable it was!But the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and her hand were only the remains of burnt match.Struck a second match.He burned, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil of gauze, and she could see across the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth on it and had a brilliant dinner service. The roast goose was steaming beautifully, stuffed with apples and prunes. Even more amazing was to see the goose jump out of the dish and waddled toward her with the knife and fork in the chest!Then the match went out, leaving only the front wall rough, wet and cold.He lit another match, and found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas tree. It was larger and more ornate than the tree she had seen through the glass door of the rich merchant. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures, like the ones you see in the papers, were on her. The little girl stretched her hand to the cards, but this match went out. The Christmas lights rose higher. She saw them as if they were stars in the sky: one of them fell, forming a long trail of fire."Someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who loved and who was now dead, had told him that when a silent star, a soul ascended to God.She struck another match on the wall, he lit up, and its light, the girl's grandmother appeared clear and bright, very beautiful and tender.- Grandma! - Exclaimed the child.- Oh! take me with you!Desaparecerás know when the match goes off!Dispel thou shalt like the warm stove, steaming food and great and wonderful Christmas tree!And quickly lit the whole bundle of matches, because he wanted to retain front view of his beloved grandmother. And the matches glowed with such radiance that illuminated more than the light of day. His grandmother never had seemed so big and beautiful. It has the little girl in his arms, and both flew in brightness and joy above the earth, climbing higher and higher where there was neither cold nor hunger nor concerns - rising to God.But at the corner of two houses, leaning against the wall, sat the poor little girl rosy cheeks and smiling mouth, that death enregelara last evening in the old year.The sun rose on new year a little corpse.The child was there, paralyzed, a whole bundle of burnt matches. - I wanted to warm himself - said the bystanders.But no one imagined how beautiful it was what they were seeing, nor the glory to which she had gone with her grandmother and the happiness I had in New Year's Day.
Hans Christian Andersen