"She said that as long as I give her red roses, she will dance with me." The young student said loudly, "But there are no red roses in the whole garden."

The Nightingale in St. The nest in the oak tree heard him speak, and looked out through the gaps in the leaves, and was very surprised.

"There are no red roses in the whole garden!" cried the student, his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, happiness depends on something so trivial! I have read all the books written by philosophers and mastered all the secrets of philosophy, but just because of the lack of a red rose, life becomes miserable."

"At last I have found an infatuated lover," said the Nightingale. "Although I did not know him, I sang about him all night long; I told his story to the stars all night long, but I had not seen him until now. Him. His hair was as dark as the hyacinths, and his lips were as red as the roses he wanted; but passion turned his face pale as ivory, and sorrow set its brow. "The prince will have a dance tomorrow night," said the young student. "My lover will also attend if I give her a red rose. She will dance with me until the early hours of the morning." ; If I give her a red rose, I can hold her hand, I can put my arms around her, and she will nestle her head on my shoulder. But there are no red roses in my garden, so I can only. Sitting alone, she would pass me by and ignore me, and my heart would break."

"He is indeed an infatuated lover," said the Nightingale, "he is singing to me. What is joy to me is pain to him. Love is certainly a wonderful thing, more precious than emeralds and more prized than beautiful opals. You can't buy it with stone, and you can't buy it from a merchant, and you can't weigh it in gold on a scale."

"Musicians do. "Sitting in the gallery and playing stringed instruments," said the young student, "my love would dance to the music of the harp and the violin. She would dance as lightly as if her toes did not touch the floor." I'll surround her. But she won't dance with me because I don't have any red roses to give her." He threw himself on the grass, covered his face with his hands, and cried.

"Why is he crying?" A small green lizard asked as it ran past the student with its tail erect.

"Yes, why?" The butterfly who was chasing a beam of sunlight also asked.

"Yes, why?" Daisy also asked his neighbor in a gentle voice.

"He cried for a red rose." said the Nightingale.

"For a red rose?" they shouted, "this is too funny!" The little lizard was a mean guy and laughed out loud on the spot.

But Nightingale knew the secret of the student's sadness. She paused quietly on the holm oak branch, pondering the mystery of love.

Suddenly the nightingale spread her brown wings and flew up, high into the air, then passed like a shadow through the woods and glided into the garden.

There was a rose tree planted in the center of the lawn. When the nightingale saw it, it flew towards it and stopped on a small branch.

"Give me a red rose," said the Nightingale, "and I will sing you the most beautiful song."

But the rose tree shook its head.

"My roses are all white," replied the rose tree, "as white as the foam of the waves of the sea, and whiter than the snow on the snow-capped mountains. Go and find my brother, who Growing next to that ancient sundial may give you what you want.”

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

"Give me a red rose," said the nightingale, "and I will sing you the most beautiful song."

But the rose tree shook its head.

"My roses are all yellow," replied the rose-tree, "as yellow as the hair of the mermaid who sat on her throne of amber. They are more yellow than before the lawnmower came with his scythe. , The daffodils blooming on the water meadow are more yellow. You go to my brother, he grows under the student's window, maybe he will give you what you want."

So the nightingale flew to the student. The rose tree under the window.

"Give me a red rose," said the Nightingale, "and I will sing you the most beautiful song."

But the rose tree shook its head.

"My roses are red," replied the rose tree, "as red as doves' feet, redder than the flapping corals in the caves of the ocean. But the winter chill has invaded my veins. "The frost has frozen my buds, and the storm has broken my branches. I will not bloom again this year."

"I only need one red rose," cried the nightingale. "Just one! Is there no way for me to get it?"

"There is a way." replied the rose tree, "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell you."

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

"

"If you want a red rose," said the rose tree, "you must make it with music under the moonlight, and you must dye it red with your own blood. You have to sing while holding your chest against one of my spikes. You must sing all night long, and the spikes will pierce your heart, and then your life-blood will flow into my veins and become mine. "

"Death in exchange for a red rose is a high price to pay. said the Nightingale, "Life is precious to all." How pleasant it is to stop in the green woods and watch the sun driving its golden carriage and the moon driving its pearl-colored carriage across the sky! The hawthorn flowers are so fragrant, as are the blue bellflowers hiding in the valleys, and the heathers blooming on the hills. But love is more precious than life, and how can a bird's heart compare with a human's heart? ”

Then the nightingale spread her brown wings and flew up again, flying high into the air, and then passed like a shadow across the garden and gliding through the woods.

YOUTH The student was still lying on the grass just as the nightingale had left him, with tears still in his beautiful eyes.

"Be happy," cried the nightingale, "be happy, you will." Got the red rose. I will make it under the moonlight and dye it red with my own blood. All I ask in return is that you be a loyal lover. Although philosophy is wise, love is wiser than philosophy; although power is powerful, love is more powerful than power. The color of love's wings is like fire, and the color of its body is like fire. Love's lips are as sweet as honey, and its breath is as fragrant as frankincense. ”

The student raised his head to look at the nightingale and listened to her cry, but he didn’t understand what she was saying to him, because he only understood what was written in the book.

But But the holm-oak tree understood, and was saddened, for he loved the nightingale that had made its nest in his branch.

"Sing me one last song," said the holm-oak tree. Say softly, "I will feel lonely after you leave. ”

The nightingale sang a song to the holm oak tree, and the sound sounded like water bubbling in a silver vase.

After the nightingale finished singing, the student stood up , took out a notebook and a pencil from his pocket.

"She has mastered the form of music," he said to himself as he walked through the woods, "that cannot be denied; but she has. Have emotions? I'm afraid not. In fact, she is like all artists: only style, no emotion. She will not sacrifice herself for others. She only cares about music. Everyone knows that artists are selfish. But I must admit, she still hit a few beautiful notes. It's a pity that they have no meaning and have no practical value! "The student returned to his room, lay down on the simple little bed, and began to think about his lover again. After a while, he fell asleep.

When the moon rose, the nightingale flew over Next to the rose tree, she pressed her chest against the sharp thorns and sang all night long. The cold moon also lowered her head and listened to the song, and the thorns pierced her chest deeper and deeper. Her life blood is slowly draining away.

The nightingale originally sang about the birth of love in the hearts of a boy and a girl, and a miraculous flower bloomed on the highest branch of the rose. The nightingale sings one song after another, and the petals open one by one. The flower is pale at first, like the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of morning, silver as the wings of dawn. The flower that blooms on the highest branch of the rose tree is like the shadow of a rose in a pond or in a silver mirror.

But the rose tree tells the nightingale to press the thorn deeper. Gotta go deeper. cried the rose tree, "or the day will come before the roses are made." "

The nightingale pressed the thorns deeper, and her singing became louder and louder. She was singing about the love in the hearts of a young man and woman.

The petals of the rose bloomed A delicate blush appeared, just like the blush on the bridegroom's face when he kisses the bride. But the rose's thorns have not yet pierced the nightingale's heart, and only the nightingale's blood can dye the rose's heart red. .

The rose asked the nightingale to press the thorns deeper. "Little nightingale, press it deeper." cried the rose, "otherwise the day will come before the rose is made." ”

The Nightingale pressed the thorn deeper. The thorn tip touched her heart, and a sharp pain spread throughout her body. The pain was so sharp, so sharp, and her song became so fanatical. , she sang about a love that becomes more perfect through death, a love that will not die in the grave.

This miraculous rose turned crimson, like the morning glow in the east. Not only were the outer petals crimson, but the heart of the rose was also like a ruby.

But the nightingale's voice became fainter, her little wings began to flap, and a thin film covered her eyes. . Her singing became weaker and weaker, and she felt something was choking her throat.

At this time, the nightingale burst into song and forgot about it. Dawn has arrived and lingers in the sky. The red roses hear the song and tremble with ecstasy, opening their petals in the cold morning air.

The Echo brought the song back to her purple cave in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherd boy from his dream. The song floats through the reeds on the river bank, and the reeds carry their message to the sea.

"Look, look!" cried the rose tree, "the rose is already made." But the nightingale did not answer, because she had fallen into the tall grass and died, with the flower still in her heart. Root spikes.

At noon, the students opened the window and looked outside.

"Ah, my luck is so good!" the student shouted, "Here is a red rose! I have never seen such a beautiful rose in my life. It is so beautiful, it must have a long Its Latin name." He bent down and plucked the rose.

Then he put on his hat, took the rose in his hand, and ran to the professor's house.

The professor's daughter sat on the porch, winding blue silk thread on her spinning wheel, and her little dog lay at her feet.

"You said that if I give you a red rose, you will dance with me." The student shouted, "This is the reddest rose in the world. Tonight you give it Wear it close to your heart. When we dance together, it will tell you how much I love you."

But the girl frowned.

"It doesn't match my dress," she replied. "Besides, the Chamberlain's nephew gave me some real jewels. Everyone knows that jewels are worth much more than flowers."< /p>

"To be honest, you are really ungrateful." The student angrily threw the rose onto the street. The rose fell into the open ditch on the street and was run over by a wheel.

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "What I want to tell you is that you are very rude. Besides, who are you? You are just a student. The chamberlain's nephew has silver on his shoes." Buckle, you don't even have that." She stood up from her chair and walked into the room.

"Love is so ridiculous!" the student said to himself as he walked. "It is not half as useful as logic. Love can't prove anything, and it always tells people things that will never happen. , making people believe something that is not true at all. Love is not practical at all. In this era, practicality is everything, so I should go back to philosophy and study metaphysics."

He returned. I went to my room, took out a big dusty book, and started reading.