Oscar Wilde: The Nightingale and the Rose

"She said she would dance with me if I gave her some red roses," one young student said aloud, "but in my garden there wasn't even a single red rose." ”

This was heard by the nightingale in her own nest in the holm oak tree, and she poked her head out of the green leaves and looked around.

"I can't find red roses anywhere in my garden," he cried, his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Alas, happiness depends on such small things! I have read all the writings of wise men, and all the mysteries of knowledge are contained in my mind, but I have to live a miserable life because of the lack of a red rose. ”

"There's a true lover here," said Nightingale to herself, "and though I don't know him, I'll sing for him every night and every night, and I'll tell his story to the stars every night and every night." Now I finally saw him, his hair as black as hyacinth, and his lips as red as the roses he wanted; But the torment of his feelings made his face as pale as ivory, and the marks of sorrow crept up his brows. ”

"The prince has a ball to-morrow night," the young student muttered, "and my loved ones are going." If I give her a red rose, she will dance with me until dawn; If I give her a red rose, I will be able to put my arms around her waist, and she will rest her head on my shoulder, and her hand will be in my palm. But there were no red roses in my garden, and I could only sit there alone, watching her pass by. She won't notice me, my heart will break. ”

"This is indeed a true lover," said the nightingale, "for whom I sing is the pain he suffers, and the things which I am happy about are pain to him." Love is a wonderful thing, it is more precious than emerald, more rare than opal. Pearls and pomegranates could not be exchanged for them, they could not be bought in the market, they could not be bought from merchants, and they could not be weighed in gold. ”

"The musicians would sit in their halls," said the young students, "playing their stringed instruments." My beloved will dance to the sound of harp and violin music. She danced so easily and cheerfully that she didn't even touch her heels against the floor. The servants in splendid costumes surrounded her in the middle. But she just won't dance with me, because I don't have a red rose for her. So he threw himself on the grass, covered his face with his hands, and began to weep bitterly.

"Why is he crying?" A small green lizard asked as it ran past him with its tail cocked high.

"yes, why?" A butterfly said she was dancing after a ray of sunshine.

"yes, why?" A daisy whispered to her neighbor in a low voice.

"He wept over a red rose." The nightingale told everyone.

"For a red rose?" They screamed. "It's funny!" The little lizard said that he was a mocking person and couldn't help but laugh.

But only the nightingale understood the reason for the student's sorrow, and she sat silently on the oak tree, imagining the mystery of love.

Suddenly, she spread her brown wings and flew into the air. She flew like a shadow over the grove and over the garden like a shadow.

In the middle of a meadow grew a beautiful rose tree, and when she saw it, she flew towards it and landed on a twig.

"Give me a red rose," she cried out, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." ”

But the tree shook her head.

"My roses are white," it replied, "as white as the foam of the waves of the sea, whiter than the snow on the top of the mountain." But you can go to my brother who grew up next to the ancient sundial, and perhaps he can meet your needs. ”

So the nightingale flew towards the rose tree that grew beside the ancient sundial.

"My rose is yellow," it replied, "as yellow as the hair of a mermaid sitting on an amber throne, and as yellow as the daffodils that bloomed in the meadow before the sickle-wielding mower came." But you can go to my brother who grew up under the student window, maybe he can meet your needs. ”

So the night apartment flew towards the rose tree that grew under the student's window.

"Give me a red rose," she cried out, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." ”

But the tree shook her head.

"My roses are red," it replied, "as red as a pigeon's feet, redder than a large fan of coral fluttering in the caves of the ocean." But winter has frozen my veins, frost and snow have destroyed my buds, storms have blown my branches and leaves, and I will not have any more roses this year. ”

"All I need is a rose," cried the nightingale, "only a red rose!" Isn't there a way for me to get it? ”

"There's a way," replied the tree, "but it's too terrible for me to say to you." ”

"Tell me," said the nightingale, "I am not afraid. ”

"If you want a red rose," said the tree, "you must make it with music by moonlight, and you must dye it red with the blood of your breast." You must sing with your chest against one of my thorns. You will sing for me all night, and that thorn will penetrate your breast, and your blood will flow into my veins and become my blood. ”

"The price for a rose is very high," cried the nightingale, "and life is very precious to everyone." It is a pleasure to sit in the green trees and watch the sun drive her golden carriage, and to see the moon drive her pearl carriage. Hawthorn gives off a fragrance, as do the bellflowers that hide in the valleys and the heather that bloom on the hills. However, love is better than life, and how can the heart of a bird be better than the heart of a man? ”

So she spread her brown wings and flew into the sky. She flew like a shadow across the garden, and like a shadow through the grove.

The young student was still lying on the grass, his beautiful eyes still welling with tears as she had left.

"Be happy," cried the nightingale, "be happy, and you will get your red rose." I'm going to make it music in the moonlight, and give the blood in my chest to stain it red. I ask you to repay me only one thing, and that is that you are to be a true lover, for though philosophy is wise, love is wiser than hers, and love is greater than him, though power is great. The flame reflected the wings of love, making his body as red as a flame. His lips were as sweet as honey; His scent is as fragrant as frankincense. ”

The student looked up from the grass and listened, but he didn't understand what the nightingale was telling him, for all he knew was what was written in the book.

But the oak tree knew in his heart, and he felt very uncomfortable, for he loved the little nightingale that made a nest in his branches.

"Sing me one last song," he whispered, "and I'll feel lonely when you go." ”

So the nightingale sang to the oak tree, and her voice was like the sound of boiling water in a silver jar.

As soon as she stopped singing, the student got up from the grass and took out a notebook and a pencil from his pocket.

"She's so pretty," he said to himself, and walked away through the woods, "which cannot be denied; But does she have emotions? I don't think she did. In fact, like most artists, she only pays attention to form, without any sincerity. She wouldn't make sacrifices for anyone else. She only thinks about music, and everyone knows that art is selfish. However, I have to admit that her singing voice also has some beautiful tunes. It's just a pity that they don't make any sense and don't do any real good. He went into the house, lay down on his humble little bed, remembered his beloved, and in a few moments fell asleep.

When the moon hung in the sky, the nightingale flew towards the rose tree, holding her chest against the thorns. She sang all night with her chest against the thorns, and even the crystal cold moon leaned down to listen. She sang all night, stabbing deeper and deeper in her chest, and the blood on her body was about to run out.

She began to sing about the love that sprouted in the hearts of young boys and girls. On the highest branch of the rose tree bloomed an unusual rose, and the song sang one after another, and the petals opened one by one. At first, the flowers were milky white, like the haze hanging over the river - as white as the footsteps of the morning, as white as the wings of dawn. The rose that blooms on the highest branch is like the shadow of a rose in a silver mirror in a pool.

But then the tree cried out to the nightingale to hold the thorns tighter. "Hold on, little nightingale," cried the tree, "or the day will dawn before the roses are finished." ”

So the nightingale tightened her thorns, and her singing grew louder and louder, for she sang of the passion that was born in the hearts of a man and a woman.

A faint blush crept up the rose petals, just like the groom's face when he kissed his bride. But the thorns have not yet reached the heart of the nightingale, so the heart of the rose is still white, because only the blood of the nightingale's heart can stain the heart of the red rose.

Then the tree cried out to the nightingale tighter, "tighter, little nightingale," cried the tree, "or the day will be dawn before the roses are finished." ”

So the nightingale pressed the rose thorn tighter, and pierced her heart, and a sharp pain struck her all over her body. The pain grew worse and worse, and the singing became more and more intense, for she sang of the love that was completed by death, and the love that was immortalized in the grave.

Finally this extraordinary rose turned crimson, like the red glow of the eastern sky, the outer ring of the petals was crimson, and the center of the flower was even redder like a ruby.

But the nightingale's singing grew weaker and weaker, and her little wings began to flutter, and a film of mist crept up her eyes. Her singing voice grew weaker, and she felt like something was choking her throat.

That's when she sang the last song. Mingyue listened to the singing, but forgot the dawn and only wandered in the sky. When the red rose heard the song, she was even more ecstatic, and opened all her petals to welcome the cool morning breeze. The echo brings the song back to the purple cave in its own mountains, waking the sleeping shepherd boy from his sleep. The song floated over the reeds in the river, and the reeds carried their sound to the sea.

"Look, look!" The tree cried, "The roses have grown." But the nightingale did not answer, for she was dead in the long grass, and the thorn was still tied in her heart.

At noon, the student opened the window and looked out.

"Ah, what good luck!" He exclaimed, "There's a red rose here!" I have never seen such a rose in my life. It's so beautiful, I dare say it has a long Latin name. He leaned down and took it off.

Then he put on his hat, picked up the roses, and ran towards the professor's house.

The professor's daughter was sitting in the doorway, spinning blue silk threads on a spinning wheel, and her puppy lay at her feet.

"You said you'd dance with me if I gave you a red rose," the student exclaimed, "and it's the reddest rose in the world." You wear it on your chest tonight, and when we dance together, it will tell you how much I love you. ”

The girl, however, frowned.

"I fear that it does not match my clothes," she replied, "and besides, the nephew of the court minister has given me some precious jewels, and everyone knows that jewels are worth more than flowers." ”

"Oh, I'm going to say, you're an ungrateful man," the student said angrily. At once he threw the rose into the street, and the rose fell into the gutter, and a carriage ran over it.

"Ungrateful!" The maiden said, "Let me tell you, you are too rude; Besides, what are you? Just a student. Ah, I dare say you won't be like the nephew of the court minister, with silver buttons nailed to his shoes. With that, she got up from her chair and walked into the room.

"How foolish love is!" "It's not half as good as logic, because it doesn't prove anything, and it always tells people things that won't happen, and it also makes people believe things that aren't true." To be honest, it was not practical at all, and in those days, everything had to be practical. I'm going to go back to philosophy, to learn metaphysics. ”

So he went back to his room, took out his big dusty book, and read it.