High in a hill tower hung a little brass bell. It wanted to ring like the great bell below, but only a whisper came out.
山顶的塔里挂着一只小小的铜铃铛。它想像下面的大钟那样响亮地响，可是发出的声音却像耳语。
The wind laughed softly, and the bell felt too small to matter. It hid its face behind a silver cloud.
风轻轻地笑了，小铃铛觉得自己太小，无足轻重。它把脸藏到一朵银色的云后面。
That evening, a lost lamb wandered below the tower in the fog. The great bell was silent, and the lamb began to cry.
那天傍晚，一只迷路的小羊在雾中走到塔下。大钟沉默着，小羊开始哭了起来。
The little bell let out its softest ring. The gentle sound floated down, and the lamb followed it home.
小铃铛发出最轻柔的一声响。温柔的声音飘下去，小羊跟着它回了家。
The shepherd told the village about the whispering bell. Children came to hear it hum at bedtime.
牧羊人把会耳语的小铃铛告诉了村里人。孩子们在睡前都来听它轻轻哼唱。
The little bell no longer wished to be loud. Its quiet song was exactly what the sleepy hill needed.
小铃铛不再希望自己变得响亮。它安静的歌声，正是这座困倦的小山所需要的。