The_Nightngale_and_the_Rose_夜莺与玫瑰__原文及译文

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TheNightngaleandtheRose夜莺与玫瑰原文及译文

The NightingaIe and the ROSeOSCar Wilde1 "She Said that She would dance With me if I brought her red roses," Cried the young StUde nt; "but i n all my garde n there is no red rose."2 From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and She looked out through the leaves, and won dered.3 "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filledWith tears. "Ah, on What little things does happ in ess depe nd! I have readall that the WiSe men have Written, and all the SeCretS of philosophy aremine, yet for Want of a red rose is my life made Wretched."4 "Here at last is a true lover," Said the Night in gale. "Night after ni ghthave I SUng of him, though I kneW him not: ni ght after ni ght have I toldhis story to the stars, and noW I See him. HiS hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but PaSSiOn hasmade his face like pale ivory, and sorroW has Set her seal UPon hisbroW."5 "The PrinCe gives a ball tomorroW night," murmured the young StUdent, "and my love Willbe 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 shall hold her in my arms, and She Will lea n her head UPon my shoulder, and her hand Will be CIaSPed in mine. BUt there is no red rose in my garde n, so I shall Sit Ion ely, and She Will PaSS me by. She Will have no heed of me, and my heart Will break."6 "Here in deed is the true lover," Said the Nighti ngale. "What I Sing of, he SUfferS - What is joy to me, to him is pain. SUreIy Love is a Won derful thin g. It is more PreCiOUS tha n emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. PearIS and POmegranateS Cannot buy it, nor is it Set forth in the marketplace. It may not be PUrChaSed of the mercha nts, nor can it be Weighed out in the bala nce for gold."7 "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 dan ce, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself dθW n On the grass, and buried his face in his han ds, and Wept.8 "Why is he WeePing?" asked a little Green LiZard , as he ran PaSt him With his tail in the air.9 "Why, in deed?" Said a BUtterfly, Who WaS flutteri ng about after a SUn beam.10 "Why, in deed?" WhiSPered a DaiSy to his n eighbour, i n a soft, I OW voice.11 "He is WeeP ing for a red rose," Said the Nighti ngale.12 "For a red rose?" they cried; "hθW Very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, Who WaSSOmeth ing of a cynic, IaUghed outright.13 BUt the Nighti ngale Un derstood the SeCret of the StUde nt's sorroW, and She Sat sile nt in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.14 SUdde nly She SPread her broW n 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.15 In the centre 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.16 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."17 But the Tree shook its head.18 "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, and perhaps he will give you what you want."19 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.20 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."21 But the Tree shook its head.22 "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."23 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.24 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."25 But the Tree shook its head.26 "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."27 "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"28 "There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."29 "Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."30 "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 my veins, and become mine."31 "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?"32 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.33 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.34 "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 isthat you Will be a true lover, for LoVe is WiSer than Philosophy, though She 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 hon ey, and his breath is like frankincense."35 The StUde nt looked UP from the grass, and liste ned, but he could not un dersta nd What the Night in gale WaS Say ing to him, for he OnlykneW the things that are Writte n dow n in books.36 BUt the Oak-tree Un derstood, and felt sad, for he WaS Very fond of the little Night in gale who had built her n est in his bran ches.37 "Sing me One last Son g," he WhiSPered; "I shall feel Very Ion ely Whe n you are gon e."38 So the Nightingale Sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice WaS like Water bubbling from a SiIVer jar.39 When She had finiShed her Song the StUdent got up, and pulled a note-book and a Iead-Pe ncil out of his pocket.40 "She has form," he Said to himself, as he WaIked away through the grove - "that Cannot be denied to her; but has She got feeli ng? I am afraid no t. 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 no tes in her voice. What a Pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any PraCtiCaI good." And he Wentinto his room, and lay dow n On his little pallet-bed, and bega n to thi nk of his love; and, aftera time, he fell asleep.41 And Whe n the MoonShone in the heave ns the Nighti ngale flew to the Rose-tree, and Set her breast aga inst the thor n. All ni ght Iong She Sang With her breast aga inst the thor n, and the cold CryStaI Moon Iea ned dow n and liste ned. All ni ght I Ong She sang, and the thor n Went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.42 She Sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And On the top-most SPray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous 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, andSiIVer as the WingS of the daw n. AS the ShadOW of a rose in a mirror of SiIver, as the ShadOW of a rose in a Water-pool, so WaS the rose that blossomed On the top-most SPray of the Tree.43 BUt the Tree Cried to the Nightingale to PreSScloser against the thorn. "Press closer, little Night ingale," Cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before therose is fini shed."44 So the Night in gale PreSSed closer aga inst thethorn, and IoUder and IoUder grew her song, for SheSang of the birth of PaSSi On in the soul of a man and amaid.45 And a delicate flush of Pink Came into the IeaVeS 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 aNight in gale's heart's-blood Can CrimSOn the heart of a rose.46 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."47 So the Night in gale PreSSed closer aga inst the thor n, and the thor n touched her heart, and a fierce Pang of Pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter WaS the pain, and WiIder and WiIder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.48 And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was thegirdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.49 But the Nightingale's 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.50 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.51 "Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.52 And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.53 "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.54 Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.55 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.56 "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 tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."57 But the girl frowned .58 "I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain 's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."59 "Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful ," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.60 "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.61 "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." 62 So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.夜莺与玫瑰奥斯卡•王尔德著，俊译“她说过，只要我送她红玫瑰，她便会当我的舞伴。

文学作品the nightingale and the rose汉译实践与赏析

文学作品the nightingale and the rose汉译实践与赏析
《夜莺与玫瑰》，是一部由英国作家奥斯卡·王尔德撰写的童话。

故事以一只夜莺和一朵玫瑰之间的爱情为主题，讲述了一个可爱的小姑娘对一颗红玫瑰的渴望。

一只夜莺正在夜里歌唱，一位学生在树下听着它的歌声，他想送一颗红玫瑰给一位可爱的女孩，但却找不到一朵红玫瑰。

夜莺看到了学生的苦恼，便准备帮助他。

它先飞到森林里，去寻找一颗红玫瑰，可是却没有找到。

于是它又飞到花园里，可是又见不到一朵红玫瑰，只有一朵黄玫瑰，它便把黄玫瑰抓住，飞回了夜里。

夜莺把黄玫瑰放在树上，它张开双翅，用尽自己的力气，将黄玫瑰变成了一朵红玫瑰。

但是，它用尽了所有的力气，以至于自己的羽毛都掉光了，它的身体也变得虚弱，甚至不能再飞翔了。

学生看见了夜莺的牺牲，感动不已，把这朵红玫瑰送给了那位可爱的女孩，而夜莺终于以牺牲的方式达成了自己的目的。

奥斯卡·王尔德的童话《夜莺与玫瑰》，以其精彩的情节，浓烈的感情，表达了勇气、牺牲、爱情和信仰的主
题，它把爱情融入了传统童话里，使人们认识到爱情的力量，并鼓励人们去做自己的梦想。

现代大学英语精读1unit5thenightingaleandtherose课文翻译

18第五单元Translation of Text A夜莺与玫瑰1 “她说若是我给她带去红玫瑰，她愿意和我一路跳舞。

”年轻的学生哭喊道，“但满院子都没有一朵红玫瑰。

”2 这番话给在老橡树上自己巢中的夜莺听见了，她通过橡树叶张望，心中惊讶。

3 “在我的花园没有红玫瑰！”他哭着说，他美丽的大眼满含泪水：“啊，圣贤之书我已读完，哲学奥妙尽藏心中，但是缺少一朵红玫瑰却使我的生活瞬时暗淡！”4 “终于有一名重情感的人了，”夜莺说，“我曾日日夜夜为他歌唱，此刻我终于见到他了。

”5 “王子明晚将举行一个舞会，”年轻的学生喃喃道：“我的爱人也将前去我若为他采得红玫瑰，她将和我一直跳舞到天亮。

我会揽她入怀，而她也会偎依在我的肩头。

但在我的花园没有红玫瑰，因此我只能独自坐那儿黯然神伤，心痛超级。

”6 “他确实是一个重情感的人，”夜莺说。

真爱是美好的，它价胜千金。

7 “乐工们将奏乐助兴，”年轻的学生道，“我的爱人将和着竖琴和小提琴声翩翩起舞。

她的身姿是如此的轻盈宛似蜻蜓点水般。

但他是不会和我一路跳的，因为我没有红玫瑰献给她。

”于是他扑倒在草地上，双手捂着脸放声痛哭起来。

8 “他为何哭泣呢？”一只绿色的蜥蜴翘着尾巴通过他身旁时问道。

9 “是啊，到底为何呢？”一只在阳光下挥动着翅膀的蝴蝶问道。

10 “到底为何呢？”一朵雏菊用低沉的声音对他的邻居说道.11 “他为一只红玫瑰哭泣。

”夜莺说。

12 “为了一朵红玫瑰？”他们叫道，“太荒谬了！”那本来就有点愤世嫉俗的小蜥蜴肆无顾忌的笑道。

可是夜莺了解男孩的悲痛，默默无声地坐在橡树上。

13 突然她张开自己棕色的双翼，向空中飞去。

她犹如影子般穿越树林，又如影子般越过花园。

14 在草地的中心一棵美丽的红玫瑰树傲然屹立。

她看到后当即向它飞去：“给我一朵红玫瑰，”她高声喊道，“我将为你献上我最甜美的歌声。

”15 可是树儿摇了摇头。

16 “我的玫瑰是白色的，”它说，“白如海之浪花，白胜高山千年积雪。

The_Nightngale_and_the_Rose_夜莺与玫瑰__原文及译文教学提纲

T h e_N i g h t n g a l e_a n d_t h e_R o s e_夜莺与玫瑰__原文及译文The Nightingale and the Rose 夜莺与玫瑰Oscar Wilde 1"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."“她说过，只要我送她红玫瑰，她便会当我的舞伴。

”那个年轻人嗟怨着，“但整个花园中就独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰啊。

”2From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.一只在栎树上筑巢起居的夜莺听到年轻人的嗟叹，好奇地从树叶缝里张看。

3"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 wisemen have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."年轻人继续叹道：“独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰！”泪水此刻充盈他双眼，“告诉我，所谓幸福，究竟是什么！读懂了孔孟之道，探讨过生与死的奥秘又如何？就是独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰，我的人生完全是悲哀的！”4"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-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, andsorrow has set her seal upon his brow."“真正懂得去爱的人，看来我终于找到了，”夜莺自语，“为了找到明白爱之真缔的人，我夜夜高唱。

现代大学英语精读1UNIT5TheNightingaleandtheRose课文翻译

第五单元夜莺与玫瑰“她说如果我给她带去红玫瑰，她愿意和我一起跳舞.”年轻地学生哭喊道，“但满院子都没有一朵红玫瑰.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习这番话给在老橡树上自己巢中地夜莺听见了，她通过橡树叶张望，心中诧异.“在我地花园没有红玫瑰！”他哭着说，他美丽地大眼满含泪水：“啊，圣贤之书我已读完，哲学奥妙尽藏心中，然而缺少一朵红玫瑰却使我地生活瞬时暗淡！”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“终于有一位重感情地人了，”夜莺说，“我曾日日夜夜为他歌唱，现在我终于见到他了.”“王子明晚将举行一个舞会，”年轻地学生喃喃道：“我地爱人也将前往我若为他采得红玫瑰，她将和我一直跳舞到天亮.我会揽她入怀，而她也会偎依在我地肩头.但在我地花园没有红玫瑰，因此我只能独自坐那儿黯然神伤，心痛无比.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“他确实是一个重感情地人，”夜莺说.真爱是美好地，它价胜千金.“乐师们将奏乐助兴，”年轻地学生道，“我地爱人将和着竖琴和小提琴声翩翩起舞.她地身姿是如此地轻盈宛似蜻蜓点水般.但他是不会和我一起跳地，因为我没有红玫瑰献给她.”于是他扑倒在草地上，双手捂着脸放声痛哭起来.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“他为什么哭泣呢？”一只绿色地蜥蜴翘着尾巴经过他身边时问道.“是啊，到底为什么呢？”一只在阳光下挥动着翅膀地蝴蝶问道.“到底为什么呢？”一朵雏菊用低沉地声音对他地邻居说道.“他为一只红玫瑰哭泣.”夜莺说.“为了一朵红玫瑰？”他们叫道，“太荒谬了！”那本来就有点愤世嫉俗地小蜥蜴肆无忌惮地笑道.但是夜莺了解男孩地悲痛，默默无声地坐在橡树上.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习突然她张开自己棕色地双翼，向空中飞去.她犹如影子般穿越树林，又如影子般越过花园.在草地地中心一棵美丽地红玫瑰树傲然屹立.她看到后立即向它飞去：“给我一朵红玫瑰，”她高声喊道，“我将为你献上我最甜美地歌声.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习但是树儿摇了摇头.“我地玫瑰是白色地，”它说，“白如海之浪花，白胜高山千年积雪.但你可以去找我地兄弟，他住在日晷旁边，或许它可以给你一朵.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是夜莺就朝那棵生长在古日晷器旁地玫瑰树飞去了.“给我一朵红玫瑰，” 她高声喊道，“我将为你献上我最甜美地歌声.”但是树儿摇了摇头.“我地玫瑰是黄色地，”它说，“黄如美人鱼地秀发，黄胜草地上盛开地水仙花.你可以去找我那生长在学生窗前地兄弟，或许他可以给你一朵.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是夜莺朝那棵生长在学生窗下地玫瑰树飞去了.“给我一朵红玫瑰，” 她高声喊道，“我将为你献上我最甜美地歌声.”但是树儿摇了摇头.“我地玫瑰是红色地，”它说，“红如白鸽之足，红胜珊瑚之扇.不过寒冬冻僵了我地血管，霜雪摧残了我地蓓蕾，风暴折断了我地枝干.因此今年我不会开花了.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“我只要一朵玫瑰花，”夜莺啜泣着说，“只要一朵，难道就有没有办法得到它吗？”“有一个方法，”树儿答道：“但那太可怕了，我不敢告诉你.”“告诉我，”夜莺说，“我不怕.”“如果你想得到一朵红玫瑰”树儿说，“你必须借助月光，用音乐造就它，用你胸膛地鲜血染红它.“你必须用你地胸膛顶住我地一根刺，漫漫长夜一直为我歌唱.这根刺一定要穿透你地胸膛，你地生命之血将流入我地血管，变成我地.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“用死亡去换一朵红玫瑰，这代价太高了，”夜莺哭着说，“生命诚可贵，爱情价更高.再说鸟地心又怎么能比得过人地真心呢？”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是，她便张开自己棕色地翅膀朝天空中飞去了.她犹如影子般穿越树林，又如影子般越过花园.那个年轻学生仍旧躺在草地上，迷人地眼角还残留着未干地泪水.“高兴点儿，”夜莺叫道,“高兴点儿，你会得到红玫瑰地.我要借助月关地灵气，用歌声造出一朵玫瑰，并用我胸膛地血将它染红.用心去爱，这是你对我最好地报答.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习男孩仰着脸看着她，静静地聆听，却听不懂夜莺这临死前地嘱托.但那棵老橡树听懂了，他伤心极了，因为他是那么喜欢那只小夜莺.“为我唱最后一支歌吧!”他低声说，“你不在地时候我会寂寞地.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是，夜莺放声歌唱，歌声清脆婉转，就像在银罐里涌动地水浪一般悦耳.她唱完以后，那个学生便从草地上爬了起来.“他确实有几分姿色，“他边走边自言自语，“这是不可否认地，但她真地对我有感觉吗？恐怕不是这样.事实上，多数艺术家一样，她地爱徒具形式，却没有真心.”他走进屋子，往床上一躺，不一会儿就进入了梦乡.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习当月亮高悬于夜空之上，银辉遍撒大地，夜莺向玫瑰树飞去，用自己地胸膛顶住花刺.整整一夜她顶着花刺歌唱，就连冰凉如水晶地明月也俯下身来倾听.整整一夜她唱个不停，刺在她地胸口上越刺越深，她身上地鲜血也快要流光了.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习她开始唱起少男少女情窦初开，懵懂地爱.在玫瑰树最高地枝头上开放出一朵绝美地玫瑰，歌儿一首接着一首地唱，花瓣也一片片地开放了.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习然而这时树大声叫夜莺把刺顶得更紧一些.“顶紧些，小家伙，”树大叫着，“不然玫瑰还没有完成天就要亮了.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是夜莺把刺顶得更紧了，她地歌声也越来越响亮了，因为她歌唱着一对成年男女灵魂深处涌地对爱地渴求.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习接着，玫瑰花瓣上泛出点点粉红，就跟新郎亲吻新娘时，新娘脸上浮现地红晕一样.但是花刺还没有达到夜莺地心脏，所以玫瑰花心还是白色地.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习这时树又大声叫夜莺顶得更紧些，“再紧些，小夜莺，”树儿高声喊着，“不然，玫瑰还没有完成天就要亮了.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习于是夜莺更紧地用身躯顶住花刺，花刺撕扯着她地心脏，阵阵剧痛袭遍了全身.痛得越来越厉害，歌声也越来越高昂，因为她歌唱地是由死亡升华地爱情，歌唱出坟墓中永垂不朽地爱情.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习最后这朵绝美地玫瑰变成了深红色，花瓣地外环是深红色地，花心红色欲滴，恰似一块红宝石.但是，夜莺地声音越来越微弱，眼睛也变得模糊起来.她地歌声更弱了，她觉得喉咙一阵哽咽.之后，他唱完了最后一曲，洁白地月亮听到了，他忘记了黎明，徘徊在夜空，红玫瑰听到了它，欣喜若狂地抖擞全身，在清晨微凉地空气中绽放着.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“看，看！”树感到：“玫瑰开好了.”但是，夜莺没有回答因为她已经躺在长长地草丛中死去了，胸膛上还扎着那根花刺.文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习中午，学生打开窗户，向外看.“天哪，多么幸运啊！”他叫着,“这是我见过最红地玫瑰.”他俯下身去把它摘了下来.然后，他戴上帽子，兴致勃勃地拿着玫瑰去找教授地女儿.“你说过，如果我给你一朵红玫瑰就和我一起跳舞.”学生说：“这是世界上最红地玫瑰，今晚，你今晚就把它戴在胸口上，我们一起跳舞地时候，他会告诉你我有多爱你.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习然而女孩却皱起眉头.“恐怕它跟我地裙子不搭配，”她说道, “而且总管地侄子给我了许多珠宝，所有人都知道，珠宝要比花值钱很多.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习“好吧，我只能说，你真是不知感恩.”学生生气地说;他把玫瑰扔在街上，掉进了臭水沟里.“爱是一件多么愚蠢地事情啊！”学生边走边说，“事实上，爱太不实际了，在这年头，干什么事都得实际点儿，我还是回家学我地哲学去吧.”文档收集自网络，仅用于个人学习他回到屋里，翻出一本满是尘土地书，读了起来.。

英文版王尔德童话——夜莺与玫瑰The Nightingale and the Rose

英文版王尔德童话——夜莺与玫瑰The Nightingale and the Rose
The Nightingale and the Rose
“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.”
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.”
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 my veins, and become mine.”
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.

The-Nightngale-and-the-Rose-夜莺与玫瑰--原文及译文复习课程

The Nightingale and the Rose 夜莺与玫瑰Oscar Wilde1 "She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student;"but in all my garde n there is no red rose."“她说过，只要我送她红玫瑰，她便会当我的舞伴。

”那个年轻人嗟怨着，“但整个花园中就独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰啊。

”2 From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out throughthe leaves, and won dered.一只在栋树上筑巢起居的夜莺听到年轻人的嗟叹，好奇地从树叶缝里张看。

3 "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, onwhat little things does happ in ess depe nd! I have read all that the wise men have writte n, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."年轻人继续叹道：“独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰！”泪水此刻充盈他双眼，“告诉我，所谓幸福，究竟是什么！读懂了孔孟之道，探讨过生与死的奥秘又如何？就是独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰，我的人生完全是悲哀的！”4 "Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though Iknew him not: ni ght after ni ght have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth -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."“真正懂得去爱的人，看来我终于找到了，”夜莺自语，“为了找到明白爱之真缔的人，我夜夜高唱。

夜莺与玫瑰最全英文原文及林徽因译文word版本

夜莺与玫瑰最全英文原文及林徽因译文THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE"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 (没有) 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(风信子)-- 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 (舞会) 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 uponmy 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 (翡翠), and dearer than fine opals (蛋白石). 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 (愤世嫉俗者), 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 (一种玫瑰), 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 (美人鱼) who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil (黄水仙) 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 (摧残) 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 (战车) 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 itwith 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 (哲学), 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 he art’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 (猩红), like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby (红宝石) 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 petalsto 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 (阴沟), 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 dont 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 (玄学)."So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.夜莺与玫瑰王尔德原著；林徽因译作“她说我若为她采得红玫瑰，便与我跳舞。

TheNightngaleandtheRose夜莺与玫瑰原文及译文

The Nightingale and the Rose 夜莺与玫瑰Oscar Wilde1"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."“她说过，只要我送她红玫瑰，她便会当我的舞伴。

”那个年轻人嗟怨着，“但整个花园中就独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰啊。

3"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."年轻人继续叹道：“独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰！”泪水此刻充盈他双眼，“告诉我，所谓幸福，究竟是什么！读懂了孔孟之道，探讨过生与死的奥秘又如何？就是独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰，我的人生完全是悲哀的！”4"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-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."“真正懂得去爱的人，看来我终于找到了，”夜莺自语，“为了找到明白爱之真缔的人，我夜夜高唱。

Unit5 The-Nightingale-and-the-Rose原文及翻译

英文版王尔德童话——夜莺与玫瑰The Nightingale and the Rose

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, and perhaps he will give you what you want.”
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 my veins, and become mine.”
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

夜莺与玫瑰最全英文原文及林徽因译文

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE"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 (没有) 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(风信子)-- 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 (舞会) 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 uponmy 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 (翡翠), and dearer than fine opals (蛋白石). 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 (愤世嫉俗者), 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 (一种玫瑰), 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 (美人鱼) who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil (黄水仙) 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 (摧残) 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 Idare 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 (战车) 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 youwill be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy (哲学), 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 practicalgood!" 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 he art’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 (猩红), like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby (红宝石) 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 petalsto 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 (阴沟), 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 dont 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 (玄学)."So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.夜莺与玫瑰王尔德原著；林徽因译作“她说我若为她采得红玫瑰，便与我跳舞。

双语安徒生童话《夜莺TheNightingale》

双语安徒生童话《夜莺TheNightingale》五年过去，这时候国上上降临了真正的悲哀。

虽然大家爱戴他们这个老皇帝，然而他现在患了重病，所有人一致认为他没有希望了。

虽然新的皇帝已经选定，但是站在街上的人还是问那侍臣，老皇帝怎么样了;而他只是摇摇头，说一声：“呸!”皇帝躺在他金碧辉煌的龙床上，身体冰凉，脸色苍白;整个皇宫的人都认定他死了，个个跑去朝觐他的继承人。

侍女们出去谈论这件事，女侍臣们找伴喝咖啡。

各个大厅和所有走廊都铺上了布，不让听到一点脚步声，周围一片死寂。

但是皇帝还没有死，虽然他躺在他那张挂着丝绒帘幔、垂着沉重金丝穗子的华丽床上，脸色苍白，身体僵直。

窗子开着，月亮照在皇帝和那只人造鸟身上。

可怜的皇帝只觉得胸前被压得出奇地沉重，连气也喘不过来，于是睁开眼睛，看到死神正坐在那里。

他戴上了皇帝的金冠，一只手握着皇帝的金宝剑，一只手握着他的皇旗。

床的四周有许多奇怪的脑袋从长长的丝绒床幔问窥探进来，有些非常丑陋，有些好看温柔。

这些脑袋代表皇帝做过的好事和坏事，现在死神已经坐在皇帝的心口上，它们正盯着皇帝的脸看。

“你记得这件事吗?”“你想起了那件事吗?”它们接二连三地问道，这就使他回想起许多往事，使他的额头冒出了冷汗。

“不，不，我一点也不记得!这不是真的!”皇帝叫道，“音乐!音乐!快敲中国大鼓啊!”他央求说，“让我不要听到他们说的话。

”但是它们仍旧说下去，死神对它们说的话都像中国人那样点头。

“音乐!音乐!”皇帝大叫，“你这只珍贵的小金鸟，唱歌啊，求求你唱歌啊!我给了你黄金和贵重的礼物;我甚至把我的金丝围脖挂在你的脖子上。

唱啊!求求你唱啊!”但是人造夜莺一声不响。

没有人给它上发条，因此它一个音也唱不出来。

死神继续用他骷髅头上的空眼窝盯着皇帝，房间里静得可怕。

忽然之间，透过开着的窗子传进来最甜美的歌声。

外面，在一棵树的树枝上停着一只活的夜莺。

它听说皇帝生病受折磨，因此来给他唱安慰和希望的歌。

它一唱，床幔间那些脸逐渐消失;皇帝血管里的血流得更快，给他虚弱的四肢带来了活力;连死神自己也边倾听边说：“唱吧，小夜莺，唱下去!”“那么，你肯把那把金宝剑和那面皇旗给我吗?你肯把那顶金皇冠给我吗?”夜莺说。

The Nightngale and the Rose 夜莺与玫瑰原文及译文

The Nightingale and the RoseOscar Wilde1 "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."2 From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.3 "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and hisbeautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things doeshappiness depend! I have read all that the wise men havewritten, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet forwant of a red rose is my life made wretched."4 "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-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."5 "The Prince gives a ball tomorrow 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 shall 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."6 "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, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."7 "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.8 "Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.9 "Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.10 "Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.11 "He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.12 "For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.13 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.14 Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. Shepassed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.15 In the centre 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.16 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."17 But the Tree shook its head.18 "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, and perhaps he will give you what you want."19 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.20 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."21 But the Tree shook its head.22 "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."23 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.24 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."25 But the Tree shook its head.26 "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."27 "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"28 "There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."29 "Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."30 "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 my veins, and become mine."31 "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?"32 So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She sweptover the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.33 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.34 "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 she 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 honey, and his breath is like frankincense."35 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.36 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.37 "Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."38 So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.39 When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.40 "She has form," he 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 islike 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.41 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.42 She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous 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 top-most spray of the Tree.43 But the Tree cried to the Nightingale topress closer against the thorn. "Press closer,little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Daywill come before the rose is finished."44 So the Nightingale pressed closeragainst 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.45 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.46 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."47 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.48 And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.49 But the Nightingale's 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.50 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.51 "Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.52 And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.53 "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.54 Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.55 The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk ona reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.56 "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 tonight next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."57 But the girl frowned.58 "I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."59 "Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.60 "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.61 "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."62 So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.夜莺与玫瑰奥斯卡·王尔德著，俊译“她说过，只要我送她红玫瑰，她便会当我的舞伴。

The Nightingale and the Rose综合英语1,课文原文

The Nightingale and the RoseOscar Wilde "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-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 shall 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, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. 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 neighbor, 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, 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 away," 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 my 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 she 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 honey, 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 very 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 alead-pencil out of his pocket."She has form," he 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 top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous 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 marvellous 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's 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 no 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 anyrose 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 the girl frowned."I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and,besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has 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 into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel 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 I 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.。

夜莺与玫瑰最全英文原文及林徽因译文

夜莺与玫瑰最全英文原文及林徽因译文THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE"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 (没有) 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(风信子)-- 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 (舞会) 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 uponmy 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 (翡翠), anddearer than fine opals (蛋白石). 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 (愤世嫉俗者), 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 (一种玫瑰), 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 (美人鱼) who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil (黄水仙) 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 gro wing 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 (摧残) 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 Idare 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 (战车) 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 youwill be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy (哲学), 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 hecould 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 practicalgood!" 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 blossomeda 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 he art’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 (猩红), like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby (红宝石) 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 faintergrew 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 petalsto 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 thanflowers.""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 (阴沟), 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 dont 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 (玄学)."So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.。

The-Nightngale-and-the-Rose-夜莺与玫瑰--原文及译文

The-Nightngale-and-the-Rose -夜莺与玫瑰--原文及译文D夜夜高唱。

就算我不知道去哪里寻，我还是为他高唱。

每一晚每一晚，与星星对话，编造真爱的故事，为的是找到一个真正懂爱的人。

现在，他就在这里。

啊，乌黑的发丝，风信子一般的；啊，红润的嘴唇，红玫瑰一般的。

然而看啊，他内心的炽热反倒让他的脸苍白无血色；他的忧伤感觉更使他眉梢紧锁。

”1"The Prince gives a ball tomorrow 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 shall 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，王子舞会上，”年轻人还是在自怨自艾，“我爱的人会如期前往。

假使我送她红玫瑰，她便成了我一夜的舞伴；假使我送她红玫瑰，我便一手把她抱住，她也会把头落在我的肩上，她的手牵着我的手。

不过，独独少了那么一朵红玫瑰，我只好一夜独坐，就算与她擦身而过，也只会失之交臂。

心，很痛！”2"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, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."“他真正懂得爱情，”夜莺说，“爱情，是我所唱的主题，也正是他的苦恼；爱情，是我所喜悦的，也正是他的痛苦。

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