A heart-warming story about love and let go.
在黝黑芬芳的泥土底下，大多数的鼹鼠都会快乐地挖呀挖个不停。可是有一只叫做望望的小鼹鼠，他有个与众不同的心愿。他希望能看看地面上的世界。“上面对小鼹鼠来说太大太明亮了”爸爸和妈妈说。“你看我们的爪子扒得这么敏捷，鼻子拱得这么灵活，鼹鼠生来就是要挖掘的，我们鼹鼠生来就是生活在地下的”。 于是，望望努力继续做一个开心挖土的鼹鼠。
可有时候，他还是忍不住想想，地上会不会比地下好。于是有一天，他就一直往上挖呀挖，直到最后他的头终于探出了地面。他看到了这个忙碌的生机勃勃的世界，这世界显得新鲜但又陌生，让他几乎有点害怕。他抬头向上看，看到了天空。呀，天空宁静又蔚蓝，天空很美。他多希望能拥有一小块他自己的天空啊。然后，突然，从很高的地方，有一个东西掉了下来。一个光滑的，温暖的，和天空一样蔚蓝的东西。“噢，谢谢！” 望望小声地说道，欣喜地，小心翼翼地抱起他的这块“天空”把它带回了地下。
“看呀妈妈，这是地上来的！”他高兴地对妈妈说， “ 我刚想要一块漂亮的蓝色的天空，它就真的掉下来了一块” 。 望望非常珍爱他的“天空”，不管去哪里都带着它。一天早上这块小小的“天空”颤动起来了，啪啪啪，里面传来越来越清晰的声音。突然，“天空”裂开了，里面爬出来一个小小的丑丑的小东西。小东西挨到望望的身边，啾啾地轻声叫着。“这是什么呀？” 望望叫妈妈。“噢，是一个小宝贝呢！”妈妈说 “小宝贝需要很多的爱的哦”。
望望很快就忙挖土忙得不可开交了。他的宝贝需要吃虫子，他要给她觅食。然后她长大了，原来的窝太小了，他就需要给她挖个更大的。然后宝贝继续长大，然后他又要再挖一个，又挖一个。可是望望忙得很开心。宝贝爱他，他也爱宝贝。他挖土，宝贝在一边唱歌，她还努力地想帮忙。可是宝贝不会挖土。她的一双爪子长得不对，她的鼻子也不会拱。宝贝难过地啾啾叫。
“宝贝哭了” 望望跟妈妈说。他多希望能让宝贝开心起来啊。妈妈紧紧地抱着望望对他说“要让她快乐，你需要勇敢哦”妈妈说“因为宝贝是一只小鸟，她不属于我们地下，她属于地上。”
于是，望望又开始向上挖呀挖了。宝贝跟着他，抖着翅膀上的泥土，兴奋地跳着拍着翅膀。她一边跳，一边努力的扇动翅膀，终于她飞了起来。望望看着宝贝，骄傲又难过。“你为什么难过呢?”宝贝问。“因为有一天，你会越飞越高，等到天空的蓝色充满了你的眼睛，你可能就会忘记回来的” 望望说。宝贝紧挨着望望说“我永远都不会忘记的”。
又到了一个晴朗的早晨，一只长得跟宝贝一样的小鸟从天上掠过，宝贝飞了过去问好。望望看着，他知道他需要很勇敢。当宝贝飞回到他身边的时候，他亲了亲她，“你不再是小宝宝了，你长大了，是时候跟其他的鸟一起，飞去属于你的地方了”他说。 “可是你会难过”宝贝不舍地说。 “噢，不会的” 望望说， “我会继续快乐地挖呀挖，边挖边想你在高高的蓝天上啊。”宝贝最后拥别了望望，随后就飞了起来，越飞越高，终于飞走了。
象从前一样，大多数的鼹鼠都是最喜欢挖泥的，可是有一个小鼹鼠，他有时候会独自地钻到地面上来，听着天空上传来的小鸟叫声，露出微笑。
Wishmoley and a little piece of sky
Down in the dark delicious earth, most moles are happy dig dig digging, but Wishmoley wanted more. He wished to see the world above. ‘Above is too big and bright for a little mole‘, said daddy and mummy， ‘Look at your speedy paws and shovely nose, moles are made for digging, moles are made for under’.
Wishmoley tried to be a good happy digger. But he couldn’t help wondering if above was better than under. So one day he tunneled up up up and popped his head above. He looked at the busy bustling world, it was also strange and new, he felt afraid. Then he looked up at the sky. It was calm and blue. It was beautiful. He wished he could have his own little piece of sky. Then from way up high, something fell. Something smooth and round and warm and as blue as the sky. ‘Thank you!’ whispered Wishmoley. Then he carefully picked up his piece of sky and carried it under.
‘Look, mommy, it’s from above!’ he said, ‘I wished for some of the beautiful blue and down it came!’Wishmoely treasured his little piece of sky and took it with him everywhere. One morning, the little piece of sky began to quiver. A tap tap tapping came from inside louder and louder. Suddenly it broke apart, and a tiny ugly little thing crept out. It snuggled near to Wishmoley chipping. ‘What is it?’ he cried. ‘It’s a baby!’ said mommy, ‘and it needs to be loved’.
Wishmoley soon had lots of digging to do. His baby needed worms and grabs so he dug and dug to find them. Then she grew too big for her little nest, so he needed to dig another one. And still baby grew so he dug another, and another. Wishmoley was happy digging because baby loved him and he loved baby. She sang while he worked and she tried to help. But baby was made for digging. She has the wrong king of paws and she couldn’t shovel at all. She chipped sadly.
‘Baby is crying’ Wishmoley told mommy. Wishmoley wished she could made baby happy again. Mommy hugged him tightly and told him ‘you have to be brave to make her happy’ she said, ‘for baby is a bird, she doesn’t belong under, she belongs above’.
So Wishmoley dug up up up above. Baby flapped the dirty off her wings and hopped and fluttered happily. She flapped and hopped and fluttered until baby flew. As Wishmoley watched her, he felt proud and sad. ‘Why are you sad?’ asked baby. ‘Because some day you’ll fly higher and higher, and the blue will fill your eyes, and maybe you’ll forget to come down’ said Wishmoley. Baby snuggled next to him, ‘I’ll never forget’ she said.
One bright morning, a bird just like baby swooped through the sky, and baby flew up to say hello. Wishmoley watched and he knew he had to be very brave. When she flew down, he kissed her. ‘You are not a baby any more. It’s time to fly with the other birds to where you belong’. ‘But you’ll be sad’ cried baby. ‘Oh, no’ said Wishmoley, ‘I’ll be happy dig dig digging and thinking of you up in the blue’. Baby hugged Wishmoley then up she flew, up and away.
Most moles are happiest dig dig digging, but sometimes a little mole comes up above and listens as a song falls from the sky. And he smiles.
