英语听力 学英语,练听力,上听力课堂! 注册 登录
> 在线听力 > 有声读物 > 世界名著 > 快乐王子 >  第2篇

夜莺与玫瑰 The Nightingale and the Rose

所属教程:快乐王子

浏览:

2017年10月10日

手机版
扫描二维码方便学习和分享
https://online2.tingclass.net/lesson/shi0529/10000/10039/2.mp3
https://image.tingclass.net/statics/js/2012

"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

“她说只要我送她一些红玫瑰,她就愿意与我跳舞,”那个年轻学生大声的说,“但是我的花园里一只红玫瑰也没有。”

From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves and wondered.

住在橡树上的夜莺听到了他的话,她透过叶子向这边张望。

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

“我花园里没有红玫瑰!”年轻学生哭诉着,他美丽的眼睛里噙满了泪水。“难道幸福要依靠这样的小事!我博览群书,上知天文下知地理,居然因为缺少一只红玫瑰而让我的人生如此痛苦!”

"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth(1)-- blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."

“终于这儿有了真正的恋人,”夜莺说。“虽然我们并不认识,但是我整夜整夜的为他歌唱。我整夜整夜向星星讲述他的故事,如今我终于见到了他。他的头发乌黑的像绽放的风信子一样,他的嘴唇红的像他渴望的红玫瑰一样;但是感情让他的面孔苍白无力,忧伤的痕迹爬上他的眉梢。”

"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I should hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."

“明天晚上王子将要召开舞会,”年轻的学生喃喃的说,“我心爱的姑娘将会参加。如果我送给她一只红色的玫瑰,那么她就会和我一起跳舞到天明。如果我送给她一只红色的玫瑰,我可以把她搂在怀里,她的头靠着我的肩膀,我们十指紧扣。但是我的花园里没有一只红色玫瑰,我只能一个人坐在这里,看着她从我身旁走过。她也不会注意到我,注意到这个伤透了心的我。”

"Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds(2), and dearer than fine opals(3) . Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."

“这的确是真正的恋人,”夜莺说。“我唱的歌,诉说着他的遭遇,我所有的欢乐,确实他的痛苦。当然爱是件多么美好的事情。她比绿宝石还要珍贵,比最好的蛋白石还要稀奇。珍珠和石榴无法与她媲美,市场上绝不会出售。商人那里买不到,黄金也不能与她交换。”

"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her:" and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

“乐师们坐在走廊里,”年轻的学生说,“他们演奏者管弦乐器,我心爱的姑娘在竖琴和小提琴的伴奏下翩翩起舞。她舞的那么轻盈,仿佛她的双脚不曾碰触地面,身著鲜艳礼服的朝臣们围绕在她身边,争先恐后的与她共舞,但是她却不肯与我跳舞,因为我没有送给她红色的玫瑰。”他爬在草地上,双手捂着脸,纵声哭泣。

"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

“他为什么哭泣?”一直尾巴高高翘起的绿色小蜥蜴跑过他的身边的时候,问道。

"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

“到底是为什么?”一只飞舞在日光下的蝴蝶也跟着发问。

"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

“是啊,为什么呢?”雏菊用柔软低沉的声音小声的问着她的邻居。

"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.

“他是在为一只红色玫瑰而哭泣,”夜莺回答了大家的问题。

"For a red rose?" they cried: "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic , laughed outright.

“为一只红色玫瑰?”他们大声喊道:“真是太可笑!”喜欢嘲讽别人的小蜥蜴直接笑了出来。

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

但是夜莺明白学生忧伤的原因,她静静的坐在橡树上,思考着爱情的神秘。

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

突然她张开她那褐色的翅膀飞向空中。她像影子一样穿过小树林,又像影子一般飞跃花园。

In the center of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

在一块草地的中央有一颗美丽的玫瑰树,当她看到那棵树的时候,她便飞过去落在树枝上。

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

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

But the Tree shook its head.

但是玫瑰树摇了摇头。

"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial(4) , and perhaps he will give you what you want."

“我的玫瑰都是白色的,”它回答说,“白的像海上的浪花,比高山上的雪还要白。不过我的兄弟长在古老日昝仪周围,或许他能给你你想要的。”

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

于是夜莺向古老的日昝仪飞去了。

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

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

But the Tree shook its head.

但是树摇了摇头。

"My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window , and perhaps he will give you what you want."

“我的玫瑰都是黄色的,”它说,“黄的像坐在琥珀宝座上美人鱼的头发,比赶在割草人挥舞镰刀之前盛开的黄水仙更加金黄。不过我的兄弟长在学生的窗户下面,他或许能够帮助你。”

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student’s window.

于是夜莺朝长在学生窗下的玫瑰树飞去了。

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

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

But the Tree shook its head.

但是树摇了摇头。

"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."

“我的玫瑰是红色的,”它说,“红的像鸽子的双脚,比海洋洞穴里不停飘动的珊瑚还要红。可是冬天冻伤了我的叶脉,冰霜摧毁了我的花苞,暴风雨夺走了我的枝丫,今年我不会开出一朵玫瑰花了。”

"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"

“我只要一朵红色玫瑰花,”夜莺大叫道,“就一朵!难道没有别的办法让我找到一只红色玫瑰吗?”

"There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."

“有一个办法,”玫瑰树回答说,“但是那太可怕了,我不敢告诉你。”

"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."

“请告诉我,”夜莺说,“我不害怕。”

"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart’s blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into me veins, and become mine."

“如果你想要一朵红色的玫瑰,”树说,“你必须借助月光用音乐来铸造,用你心脏的血液浸染它。你要用你的胸膛穿通我的刺并放声高唱。你要为我歌唱整个夜晚,我的刺必须穿透你的心脏,你的生命之血将流入我的叶脉,成为我的血液。”

"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"

“用死亡来换取一只红色玫瑰,”夜莺说,“生命对谁来说都是那么珍贵。坐在绿茵之中看着太阳神驾驶着他的黄金战车,月亮女神坐在她珍珠马车里。山楂树散发着香气,躲在山谷深处的野风信子和开在山顶的南石花也香味扑鼻。可是啊,爱情比生命更重要,鸟儿的心怎能与人的心相比呢?”

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

夜莺张开她褐色的翅膀飞向天空。她像影子一般掠过花园,又穿过树林。

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

年轻的学生还躺在草地上,和她离开的时候一样,他那美丽的眼中还满是泪水。

"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart’s blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy , though he is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as homey, and his breath is like frankincense."

“高兴起来吧,”夜莺喊道,“高兴起来吧,你会得到你要的红色玫瑰的。我会借着月光铸造它,刺破心房用血液染红它。我只要你为我做一件事情来报答我,你要做一个真正的恋人,虽然哲学很明智,但是爱情才是真理;尽管力量很强大,但是爱情能够战胜一切。七彩的火焰是爱情的羽翼,他的身躯燃烧出火焰的颜色。他的唇如蜜般甜美,他有着乳香般芬芳的气息。”

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

学生抬头仰望倾听,但是他听不懂夜莺对他说了些什么,因为他只懂得书本上的内容。

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale, who had built her nest in his branches.

但是橡树听的明白,他感到无比的悲伤,因为他十分喜欢这只在他树枝上筑巢的小夜莺。

"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."

“为我唱最后一支歌吧,”他低声说,“没有你我会感到孤独的。”

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

于是夜莺为橡树唱起了歌,她美妙的声音仿佛从银坛里涌出的泉水。

When she had finished her song, the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

当夜莺唱完了歌,学生起身从口袋里掏出一个笔记本和一支铅笔。

"She had form," her said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good!" And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

“夜莺唱的真是有模有样的,” 他穿过树林自言自语的说,“的确不可否认;可她有感情吗?我想恐怕没有。其实,她不过和大多数的艺术家一样,无痛呻吟。她不会为任何人牺牲自己。她想的只是音乐,没有人不知道艺术如此自我。尽管,我不得不承认她拥有美妙的歌喉。可惜这歌声毫无意义,也毫无用处!”年轻学生回到了房间,躺在他简陋的小床上,想着他心爱的姑娘,不一会便进入梦乡。

And when the moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang, with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

当月亮从天空撒下银色的光,夜莺飞到玫瑰树旁,用胸膛插入花刺。她插在刺上,整夜唱歌,冰冷的月亮靠在枝头聆听。夜莺整夜唱着,刺陷的越来越深,她生命的血液渐渐逝去。

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river—pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

她唱了一首男孩女孩初次萌生爱意的歌。在玫瑰树最高的树枝上开出了一朵绝妙的花,随着歌声,花瓣一片片的绽开。起初那花瓣是乳白色的,就像河面上的薄雾一样-白的如清晨的足迹,白的如破晓的羽翼。那朵在最高的枝头绽放的玫瑰,如银镜中倒映在水中的玫瑰花影。

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

然而玫瑰树大喊着让夜莺刺的深一些。“再刺深点,小夜莺,”玫瑰树喊着,“不然玫瑰花明天就完不成了。”

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

于是夜莺刺的更深了,她的歌声也越来越响亮,因为她歌唱着男人和女人心中滋生的激情。

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose’s heart remained white, for only a Nightingale’s heart’s blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

然后淡淡的红色流入了玫瑰花瓣,就像新郎亲吻他美丽新娘的嘴唇时,新郎脸颊泛起的红晕。可是刺并没有插入夜莺的心脏,所以玫瑰的花心依然是白色的,只有夜莺心脏的血才能染红玫瑰的花心。

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

于是玫瑰树继续大喊让夜莺刺的更深。“再刺深点,小夜莺,”玫瑰树喊着,“不让明天红色玫瑰没法完成。”

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

夜莺刺的更深了,花刺进入了她的心脏, 一阵的剧痛蹿入全身。夜莺痛的越来越厉害,她的歌声越来越高亢,她在高唱死亡造就了爱情,死亡却无法将爱情带入坟墓。

And the marvelous rose became crimson , like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

染红那支绝美的玫瑰变成了深红色,宛若东方天空的红霞。每朵花瓣都变成了深红色,而花心却像一颗红宝石一样。

But the Nightingale’ voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

夜莺的歌声渐渐微弱,她的小翅膀拍打起来,眼睛越发的迷茫。她的歌声越来越微弱,她感到几乎无法喘息。

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

于是她奋力唱了最后一首歌。明亮的月亮聆听着歌声,忘却了黎明的到来,挂在天空不肯离去。红色的玫瑰聆听着歌声,听的如痴如醉,每一片花瓣绽放在冷冷的晨风之中。回声将那歌声带回她山谷中紫色的洞穴,唤醒睡梦中的牧羊人。歌声跟随河中的芦苇,穿过河流进入浩瀚的海洋。

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now;" but the Nightingale made not answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

“看,快看!”玫瑰树大喊起来,“红色玫瑰花完成了;”但是夜莺没有回答,花刺插在她的心房,她静静的躺在高高的草丛中,离开了尘世。

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

中午时分,年轻的学生打开窗子向外张望。

"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" He cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name;" and he leaned down and plucked it.

“天哪,我真是太幸运啦!”他大叫道,“这居然有支红色玫瑰!这是我这辈子见过的最与众不同的玫瑰。它太美了,我敢说它一定有一个很长的拉丁名。”于是学生俯身摘下了它。

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose in his hand.

于是他戴起帽子,拿着玫瑰奔向了教授家。

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

教授的女儿正坐在门口卷着一轴蓝色的丝线,她的小狗卧在脚边。

"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

“你说过,如果我送你一支红色的玫瑰,你愿意和我跳舞,”年轻的学生说。“这是世界上最红的玫瑰。你可以把它别在胸前,我们一起跳舞的时候,它会向你诉说我多么爱你。”

But he girl frowned.

但是女孩皱起了眉头。

"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew had sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

“我恐怕这花一点也配不上我的衣服,”她回答说,“还有大臣的侄子已经送了我很多货真价实的珠宝,每个人都知道珠宝远比这花儿值钱的多。”

"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose onto he street, where it fell into the gutter , and a cartwheel went over it.

“好吧,我敢说你真是个无情无义的女人,”学生气愤的说。然后他将红色的玫瑰随手丢在街上,花儿掉进了阴沟,过往的马车从它身上轧过。

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has;" and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

“无情无义!”女孩说。“我告诉你,你真是太无理了;而且,你以为你是谁?不过是个学生。我可不相信你的鞋上也会有大臣侄子鞋上的银扣子。”女孩从椅子上起来,回了房间。

"What a silly thing Love is!" said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics ."

“爱情真是件愚蠢的事情!”学生边走边说。“它可远比不上逻辑学的用处,因为它无法证明任何事情,只不过告诉我们一些不会发生的事情,和让人相信事实皆为谎言。其实,这才是不切实际的,在这个年代一切都要讲实际。我还是回到哲学去,学那些形而上学的知识。”

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.


"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student, "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves and wondered.

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth(1)-- blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."

"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I should hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."

"Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds(2), and dearer than fine opals(3) . Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."

"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her:" and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.

"For a red rose?" they cried: "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic , laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the center of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

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

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial(4) , and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

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

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window , and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student’s window.

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

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."

"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"

"There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."

"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."

"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart’s blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into me veins, and become mine."

"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart’s blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy , though he is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as homey, and his breath is like frankincense."

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale, who had built her nest in his branches.

"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel lonely when you are gone."

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

When she had finished her song, the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

"She had form," her said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good!" And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang, with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river—pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose’s heart remained white, for only a Nightingale’s heart’s blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvelous rose became crimson , like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingale’ voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now;" but the Nightingale made not answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" He cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name;" and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

But he girl frowned.

"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew had sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose onto he street, where it fell into the gutter , and a cartwheel went over it.

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has;" and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

"What a silly thing Love is!" said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics ."

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.


“她说只要我送她一些红玫瑰,她就愿意与我跳舞,”那个年轻学生大声的说,“但是我的花园里一只红玫瑰也没有。”

住在橡树上的夜莺听到了他的话,她透过叶子向这边张望。

“我花园里没有红玫瑰!”年轻学生哭诉着,他美丽的眼睛里噙满了泪水。“难道幸福要依靠这样的小事!我博览群书,上知天文下知地理,居然因为缺少一只红玫瑰而让我的人生如此痛苦!”

“终于这儿有了真正的恋人,”夜莺说。“虽然我们并不认识,但是我整夜整夜的为他歌唱。我整夜整夜向星星讲述他的故事,如今我终于见到了他。他的头发乌黑的像绽放的风信子一样,他的嘴唇红的像他渴望的红玫瑰一样;但是感情让他的面孔苍白无力,忧伤的痕迹爬上他的眉梢。”

“明天晚上王子将要召开舞会,”年轻的学生喃喃的说,“我心爱的姑娘将会参加。如果我送给她一只红色的玫瑰,那么她就会和我一起跳舞到天明。如果我送给她一只红色的玫瑰,我可以把她搂在怀里,她的头靠着我的肩膀,我们十指紧扣。但是我的花园里没有一只红色玫瑰,我只能一个人坐在这里,看着她从我身旁走过。她也不会注意到我,注意到这个伤透了心的我。”

“这的确是真正的恋人,”夜莺说。“我唱的歌,诉说着他的遭遇,我所有的欢乐,确实他的痛苦。当然爱是件多么美好的事情。她比绿宝石还要珍贵,比最好的蛋白石还要稀奇。珍珠和石榴无法与她媲美,市场上绝不会出售。商人那里买不到,黄金也不能与她交换。”

“乐师们坐在走廊里,”年轻的学生说,“他们演奏者管弦乐器,我心爱的姑娘在竖琴和小提琴的伴奏下翩翩起舞。她舞的那么轻盈,仿佛她的双脚不曾碰触地面,身著鲜艳礼服的朝臣们围绕在她身边,争先恐后的与她共舞,但是她却不肯与我跳舞,因为我没有送给她红色的玫瑰。”他爬在草地上,双手捂着脸,纵声哭泣。

“他为什么哭泣?”一直尾巴高高翘起的绿色小蜥蜴跑过他的身边的时候,问道。

“到底是为什么?”一只飞舞在日光下的蝴蝶也跟着发问。

“是啊,为什么呢?”雏菊用柔软低沉的声音小声的问着她的邻居。

“他是在为一只红色玫瑰而哭泣,”夜莺回答了大家的问题。

“为一只红色玫瑰?”他们大声喊道:“真是太可笑!”喜欢嘲讽别人的小蜥蜴直接笑了出来。

但是夜莺明白学生忧伤的原因,她静静的坐在橡树上,思考着爱情的神秘。

突然她张开她那褐色的翅膀飞向空中。她像影子一样穿过小树林,又像影子一般飞跃花园。

在一块草地的中央有一颗美丽的玫瑰树,当她看到那棵树的时候,她便飞过去落在树枝上。

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

但是玫瑰树摇了摇头。

“我的玫瑰都是白色的,”它回答说,“白的像海上的浪花,比高山上的雪还要白。不过我的兄弟长在古老日昝仪周围,或许他能给你你想要的。”

于是夜莺向古老的日昝仪飞去了。

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

但是树摇了摇头。

“我的玫瑰都是黄色的,”它说,“黄的像坐在琥珀宝座上美人鱼的头发,比赶在割草人挥舞镰刀之前盛开的黄水仙更加金黄。不过我的兄弟长在学生的窗户下面,他或许能够帮助你。”

于是夜莺朝长在学生窗下的玫瑰树飞去了。

“给我一只红色的玫瑰,”她大声的喊道,“我会为你歌唱最美妙的歌曲。”

但是树摇了摇头。

“我的玫瑰是红色的,”它说,“红的像鸽子的双脚,比海洋洞穴里不停飘动的珊瑚还要红。可是冬天冻伤了我的叶脉,冰霜摧毁了我的花苞,暴风雨夺走了我的枝丫,今年我不会开出一朵玫瑰花了。”

“我只要一朵红色玫瑰花,”夜莺大叫道,“就一朵!难道没有别的办法让我找到一只红色玫瑰吗?”

“有一个办法,”玫瑰树回答说,“但是那太可怕了,我不敢告诉你。”

“请告诉我,”夜莺说,“我不害怕。”

“如果你想要一朵红色的玫瑰,”树说,“你必须借助月光用音乐来铸造,用你心脏的血液浸染它。你要用你的胸膛穿通我的刺并放声高唱。你要为我歌唱整个夜晚,我的刺必须穿透你的心脏,你的生命之血将流入我的叶脉,成为我的血液。”

“用死亡来换取一只红色玫瑰,”夜莺说,“生命对谁来说都是那么珍贵。坐在绿茵之中看着太阳神驾驶着他的黄金战车,月亮女神坐在她珍珠马车里。山楂树散发着香气,躲在山谷深处的野风信子和开在山顶的南石花也香味扑鼻。可是啊,爱情比生命更重要,鸟儿的心怎能与人的心相比呢?”

夜莺张开她褐色的翅膀飞向天空。她像影子一般掠过花园,又穿过树林。

年轻的学生还躺在草地上,和她离开的时候一样,他那美丽的眼中还满是泪水。

“高兴起来吧,”夜莺喊道,“高兴起来吧,你会得到你要的红色玫瑰的。我会借着月光铸造它,刺破心房用血液染红它。我只要你为我做一件事情来报答我,你要做一个真正的恋人,虽然哲学很明智,但是爱情才是真理;尽管力量很强大,但是爱情能够战胜一切。七彩的火焰是爱情的羽翼,他的身躯燃烧出火焰的颜色。他的唇如蜜般甜美,他有着乳香般芬芳的气息。”

学生抬头仰望倾听,但是他听不懂夜莺对他说了些什么,因为他只懂得书本上的内容。

但是橡树听的明白,他感到无比的悲伤,因为他十分喜欢这只在他树枝上筑巢的小夜莺。

“为我唱最后一支歌吧,”他低声说,“没有你我会感到孤独的。”

于是夜莺为橡树唱起了歌,她美妙的声音仿佛从银坛里涌出的泉水。

当夜莺唱完了歌,学生起身从口袋里掏出一个笔记本和一支铅笔。

“夜莺唱的真是有模有样的,” 他穿过树林自言自语的说,“的确不可否认;可她有感情吗?我想恐怕没有。其实,她不过和大多数的艺术家一样,无痛呻吟。她不会为任何人牺牲自己。她想的只是音乐,没有人不知道艺术如此自我。尽管,我不得不承认她拥有美妙的歌喉。可惜这歌声毫无意义,也毫无用处!”年轻学生回到了房间,躺在他简陋的小床上,想着他心爱的姑娘,不一会便进入梦乡。

当月亮从天空撒下银色的光,夜莺飞到玫瑰树旁,用胸膛插入花刺。她插在刺上,整夜唱歌,冰冷的月亮靠在枝头聆听。夜莺整夜唱着,刺陷的越来越深,她生命的血液渐渐逝去。

她唱了一首男孩女孩初次萌生爱意的歌。在玫瑰树最高的树枝上开出了一朵绝妙的花,随着歌声,花瓣一片片的绽开。起初那花瓣是乳白色的,就像河面上的薄雾一样-白的如清晨的足迹,白的如破晓的羽翼。那朵在最高的枝头绽放的玫瑰,如银镜中倒映在水中的玫瑰花影。

然而玫瑰树大喊着让夜莺刺的深一些。“再刺深点,小夜莺,”玫瑰树喊着,“不然玫瑰花明天就完不成了。”

于是夜莺刺的更深了,她的歌声也越来越响亮,因为她歌唱着男人和女人心中滋生的激情。

然后淡淡的红色流入了玫瑰花瓣,就像新郎亲吻他美丽新娘的嘴唇时,新郎脸颊泛起的红晕。可是刺并没有插入夜莺的心脏,所以玫瑰的花心依然是白色的,只有夜莺心脏的血才能染红玫瑰的花心。

于是玫瑰树继续大喊让夜莺刺的更深。“再刺深点,小夜莺,”玫瑰树喊着,“不让明天红色玫瑰没法完成。”

夜莺刺的更深了,花刺进入了她的心脏, 一阵的剧痛蹿入全身。夜莺痛的越来越厉害,她的歌声越来越高亢,她在高唱死亡造就了爱情,死亡却无法将爱情带入坟墓。

染红那支绝美的玫瑰变成了深红色,宛若东方天空的红霞。每朵花瓣都变成了深红色,而花心却像一颗红宝石一样。

夜莺的歌声渐渐微弱,她的小翅膀拍打起来,眼睛越发的迷茫。她的歌声越来越微弱,她感到几乎无法喘息。

于是她奋力唱了最后一首歌。明亮的月亮聆听着歌声,忘却了黎明的到来,挂在天空不肯离去。红色的玫瑰聆听着歌声,听的如痴如醉,每一片花瓣绽放在冷冷的晨风之中。回声将那歌声带回她山谷中紫色的洞穴,唤醒睡梦中的牧羊人。歌声跟随河中的芦苇,穿过河流进入浩瀚的海洋。

“看,快看!”玫瑰树大喊起来,“红色玫瑰花完成了;”但是夜莺没有回答,花刺插在她的心房,她静静的躺在高高的草丛中,离开了尘世。

中午时分,年轻的学生打开窗子向外张望。

“天哪,我真是太幸运啦!”他大叫道,“这居然有支红色玫瑰!这是我这辈子见过的最与众不同的玫瑰。它太美了,我敢说它一定有一个很长的拉丁名。”于是学生俯身摘下了它。

于是他戴起帽子,拿着玫瑰奔向了教授家。

教授的女儿正坐在门口卷着一轴蓝色的丝线,她的小狗卧在脚边。

“你说过,如果我送你一支红色的玫瑰,你愿意和我跳舞,”年轻的学生说。“这是世界上最红的玫瑰。你可以把它别在胸前,我们一起跳舞的时候,它会向你诉说我多么爱你。”

但是女孩皱起了眉头。

“我恐怕这花一点也配不上我的衣服,”她回答说,“还有大臣的侄子已经送了我很多货真价实的珠宝,每个人都知道珠宝远比这花儿值钱的多。”

“好吧,我敢说你真是个无情无义的女人,”学生气愤的说。然后他将红色的玫瑰随手丢在街上,花儿掉进了阴沟,过往的马车从它身上轧过。

“无情无义!”女孩说。“我告诉你,你真是太无理了;而且,你以为你是谁?不过是个学生。我可不相信你的鞋上也会有大臣侄子鞋上的银扣子。”女孩从椅子上起来,回了房间。

“爱情真是件愚蠢的事情!”学生边走边说。“它可远比不上逻辑学的用处,因为它无法证明任何事情,只不过告诉我们一些不会发生的事情,和让人相信事实皆为谎言。其实,这才是不切实际的,在这个年代一切都要讲实际。我还是回到哲学去,学那些形而上学的知识。”

用户搜索

疯狂英语 英语语法 新概念英语 走遍美国 四级听力 英语音标 英语入门 发音 美语 四级 新东方 七年级 赖世雄 zero是什么意思昆明市滇池润园英语学习交流群

网站推荐

英语翻译英语应急口语8000句听歌学英语英语学习方法

  • 频道推荐
  • |
  • 全站推荐
  • 推荐下载
  • 网站推荐