這是語言翻譯群里夏神給一眾小伙伴奉上的一篇英語美文。因為十分喜愛這篇文章，所以雖有它的中譯文本珠玉在前，仍想斗膽試譯，也因為同樣的原因，悖反常理，把譯文放在原文之前，希望大家都能釋放出內心被囚禁的愛和喜悅。
去年圣誕節我和妻子及三個兒子去了法國，當時正從巴黎趕去奈斯。那五天真是糟透了，諸事不順。住的旅館盡是些訛人的地方，租來的車又半路拋錨，我們焦躁地擠在那輛小車里，窩著一肚子火。平安夜那天住進奈斯一家陰暗邋遢的旅館時，大家心里已經全無過圣誕節的興致。
出去吃晚飯時，正下著雨，天氣陰冷。我們找到了一家狹小沉悶的店，里面只簡陋地做了些圣誕的裝飾，空氣里有股油膩膩的味道。偌大的店里只有五只桌子有人，四只桌旁分別坐著兩對德國夫婦和兩家法國人，第五只孤伶伶地坐著一個美國水手。飯店角落里，一個鋼琴師無精打采地彈著應景的圣誕音樂。
妻子用法語點了餐，男侍應端上來的卻不是我們想點的。我責怪她愚笨，她開始抽泣，兒子們都護著她，我感覺糟透了！
然后在我們左邊坐著法國一家人那桌，父親因為兒子的淘氣扇了他一巴掌，男孩開始大哭。我們右邊那桌，那位德國妻子也開始責罵起她的丈夫。
眼看一切就要被突然冒出來的舊模式攪黃了。這時打門口進來了一位賣花的法國老嫗，她身上破爛的外套被雨淋得濕嗒嗒的，腳上趿拉著一雙潮濕的舊鞋。她提著花籃，走過我們每張桌旁。
“買花嗎，先生？只要一法郎一朵。”
沒有人搭理。
老嫗委頓地坐在我們和那個水手之間的桌子旁，對侍者說：“給我來碗湯吧，一整個下午一朵花都沒賣出去。”又對鋼琴師聲音嘶啞地喊道：“你能想到有人在平安夜只能喝湯嗎，約瑟夫？”
約瑟夫沉默地指了指面前的空空的放小費的罐子。
年輕的水手吃好了，起身準備離開。他穿上外套，走向那個賣花老嫗的桌子。
“圣誕快樂，”他微笑著拿起兩朵胸花。“這要多少錢？”
“兩法郎，先生。”
他把一朵胸花壓平，放進之前寫好的一封信中，然后給了那個老嫗一張二十法郎的紙幣。
“我沒有零錢，先生，”老嫗說道，“我去跟那個侍應換一下。”
“不用了，夫人，”水手俯過身吻了吻她蒼老的面頰。“那是我給您的圣誕禮物。”
直起身來，他走向我們這桌，手里舉著另外的那朵胸花對我說：“先生，我能蒙您恩準把這些花獻給您漂亮的女兒嗎？”他飛快地把胸花給了我妻子，祝我們圣誕快樂，然后離開了。
大家都停住了手中的刀叉，怔怔地看著那個水手，餐廳里一時鴉雀無聲。幾秒鐘后，像炸彈爆炸一般，圣誕的氣浪轟然地充滿了整個餐廳。那個賣花老嫗跳了起來，揮舞著那張二十法郎，跌跌撞撞地來到屋子中間，快樂地跳了起來，對鋼琴師大聲喊道：“約瑟夫，這是我的圣誕禮物！我要分你一半，這樣你今晚也有大餐吃了。”
鋼琴師開始大聲地彈起了《好國王Wenceslaus》，邊有節奏地點著頭，邊用仿佛魔術師般的手敲打著琴鍵。
妻子和著音樂輕輕地擺動胸花，光彩照人的她仿佛一下子年輕了二十歲。淚水不知何時消失了，嘴角隨著笑聲情不自禁地上揚。她開始唱了起來，三個兒子也跟著唱了起來，歌聲里洋溢著抑制不住的熱情。
“好！好！”那對德國夫婦大聲叫道。他們跳到椅子上開始用德語唱這首歌，侍者擁著老嫗，兩人揮舞著胳膊用法語一起唱起來。那個法國父親用叉子有節律地敲打著酒瓶，他的兒子爬到了他腿上，用童稚的聲音唱起了和聲里的女高音。
德國夫婦替所有人點了酒，親自給每個人端上來，并附上擁抱。一個法國家庭叫了香檳，給大家都斟上，并親吻了每個人的雙頰。餐廳老板唱起了《第一支圣誕歌》，大家也紛紛跟著唱了起來，多半人熱淚盈眶。
從街上涌進來很多人直至很多顧客都只能站著，大家伙兒和著圣誕頌歌的拍手和跺腳幾乎要把屋頂都掀翻！
那個簡陋餐廳里的凄冷之夜最終卻成為了我們迄彼為止最棒的圣誕平安夜，只因了一個靈魂里永駐著圣誕精靈的年輕水手，因他釋放了我們被憤怒和失望禁錮在心底的愛和喜悅，因他帶給了我們——圣誕節！
英文原版：
Last year at Christmas time my wife，three boys，and I were in France，on our way from Paris to Nice．For five wretched days everything had gone wrong．Our hotels were “tourist traps”；our rented car broke down；we were all restless and irritable in the crowded car．On Christmas Eve，when we checked into a dingy hotel in Nice，there was no Christmas spirit in our hearts．
It was raining and cold when we went out to eat．We found a drab little joint shoddily.decorated for the holiday．It smelled greasy. Only five tables in the restaurant were occupied．There were two German couples，two French families，and an American sailor，by himself．In the corner a piano player listlessly played Christmas music．
My wife ordered our meal in French．The waiter brought us the wrong thing. I scolded my wife for being stupid．She began to cry．The boys defended her，and I felt even worse．
Then，at the table with the French family on our left，the father slapped one of his children for some minor infraction,and the boy began to cry．On our right，the German wife began berating her husband．
All of us were interrupted by an unpleasant blast of old air．Through the front door came an old French flower woman．She wore a dripping，tattered.overcoat，and shuffled in on wet，rundown shoes．Carrying her basket of flowers，she went from one table to the other．
"Flowers，monsieur？Only one franc．"
No one bought any．
Wearily she sat down at a table between the sailor and us．To the waiter she said，"A bowl of soup．I haven't sold a flower all afternoon．" To the piano player she said hoarsely，"Can you imagine，Joseph， soup on Christmas Eve？"
He pointed to his empty "tipping plate"．
The young sailor finished his meal and got up to leave．Putting on his coat，he walked over to the flower woman's table．
"Happy Christmas，" he said，smiling and picking out two corsages．"How much are they？"
"Two francs，monsieur．"
Pressing one of the small corsages flat，he put it into the letter he had written，then handed the woman a twenty franc note．
"I don't have change，monsieur，" she said．"I'll get some from the waiter．"
"No，ma'am，" said the sailor, leaning over and kissing the ancient cheek．"This is my Christmas present to you．"
Straightening up, he came to our table, holding the other corsage in front of him．"Sir," he said to me, "may I have permission to present these flowers to your beautiful daughter?"In one quick motion he gave my wife the corsage, wished us a Merry Christmas, and departed．
Everyone had stopped eating．Everyone had been watching the sailor．Everyone was silent．A few seconds later, Christmas exploded throughout the restaurant like a bomb．The old flower woman jumped up, waving the twenty－ franc note. Hobbling to the middle of the floor she did a merry jig and shouted to the piano player, "Joseph, my Christmas present! And you shall have half, so you can have a feast, too．"
The piano player began to belt out “Good King Wenceslaus," beating the keys with magic hands, nodding his head in rhythm．
My wife waved her corsage in time to the music．She was radiant and appeared twenty years younger．The tears had left her eyes, and the corners of her mouth turned up in laughter．She began to sing, and our three sons joined her, bellowing the song with uninhibited enthusiasm．
"Gut! Gut! "shouted the Germans. They jumped on their chairs and began singing the words in German． The waiter embraced the flower woman．Waving their arms, they sang in French. The Frenchman who had slapped the boy beat rhythm with his fork against a bottle．The lad climbed on his lap, singing in a youthful soprano．
The Germans ordered wine for everyone．They delivered it themselves, hugging the other customers．One of the French families called for champagne－made the rounds, kissing each of us on both cheeks．The owner of the restaurant started "The First Noel," and we all joined in, half of us crying．
People crowded in from the street until many? were standing．The walls shook as hands and feet kept time to the Christmas carols.
The miserable evening in a shoddy restaurant ended up being the very best Christmas Eve we had ever experienced just because of a young sailor who had Christmas spirit in his soul．He released the love and joy that had been smothered within us by anger and disappointment．He gave us Christmas．
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