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【夜莺与玫瑰】(The Nightingale and the Rose)

(2011-11-06 20:11:44)
标签:

文化

分类: 珍宝坊

【夜莺与玫瑰】(The <wbr>Nightingale <wbr>and <wbr>the <wbr>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 holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

“她说过,如果我给她红玫瑰,她就会和我跳舞”小伙子说:“可是,我的花园里没有玫瑰花。”
夜莺在圣栎树上自己巢中的听见了小伙子的话,她透过绿叶丛向外张望。



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

“我的花园里没有玫瑰!”他叫着,美丽的眼睛里溢满了眼泪。“快乐原来只需要多么微小的事物啊!我读过许多聪明人的文章,那些神秘的哲理塞满我的大脑,可是,找不到一朵红玫瑰却让自己的生活这样凄凉。”

"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."

“总算看到一个真正的恋人了,” 夜莺自言自语:“我不认识他,但我想每夜都为他唱歌,我还想每夜都把他的故事给星星讲。现在我总算看见他了,他的头发黑得像风信子花,他的嘴唇就像他盼望的红玫瑰;只是,爱情折磨得他脸苍白得跟象牙一样,眉梢上停着忧伤。”

"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."

“王子明天晚上要举行舞会了,”小伙子喃喃自语道,“我心爱的姑娘也会去的。假如我能给她一朵红玫瑰,她就会整夜同我跳舞;如果我给她一朵红玫瑰,我就可以搂着她的腰,她会把头靠在我的肩上,手握在我的手心里。可是我的花园里没有红玫瑰,我只能孤零零地坐在一边,看着她从身旁经过。她将对我不屑一顾,我会心碎的。”

"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."

“这是个真正的恋人啊,”夜莺说,“我是在为他的烦恼而唱歌,我的快乐恰好来自于他的痛苦。爱情真是一件奇妙的事情,它比绿宝石更珍贵,比猫眼更希罕。市场上买不到,珍珠和石榴换不来,商人那儿没有出售,金子都没法衡量。”

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

“乐师们会坐在他们的走廊中,奏响音乐。我心爱的人将在竖琴和小提琴的音乐声里起舞。她将跳得那么轻快,仿佛在地板上飘拂,那些装束华丽的臣仆们定会将她围绕。而她是不会同我跳舞的,因为我没有带给她红玫瑰。”说着,他扑倒在草地上,捂着脸,放声痛哭起来。

"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.
"For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student''''s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the 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.

“他怎么哭了?”一条绿色的小蜥蜴翘起小尾巴跑过时,吃惊地问。
“倒底怎么了?”一只蝴蝶她一面追着一缕阳光跳舞一面问。
“是啊,倒底怎么了?”一朵雏菊温婉地跟自已邻居说。
“他在为一朵红玫瑰哭。”夜莺告诉大家。
“为一朵红玫瑰?”他们惊叫着。“真好笑!” 总爱嘲讽别人的小蜥蜴大笑起来。
只有夜莺了解小伙子的忧伤,她默默地站在橡树上,思忖着爱情的神奇。
突然她展开棕色的翅膀,飞了出去。夜莺影子一般钻过小树林,又影子一般飞越花园。
就在草地中,有棵美丽的玫瑰树,她朝着玫瑰树飞过去,随即落在小树枝上。

"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."

“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是白色的”他说,“就像海上的泡沫,比高山上的积雪还白。你可以到我的哥哥那里,他就在古老的日晷边,也许可以满足你的愿望。”

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."

于是,夜莺立刻飞向日晷旁边的玫瑰树。
“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌。”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是黄色的”他说,“就像琥珀宝座上那个美人鱼的金头发;比草地上盛开的水仙花还灿烂。不过,你可以去找我教室窗台下的兄弟,或许他能满足你的愿望。”

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."

于是,夜莺立刻飞向教室旁边的玫瑰树。
“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌。”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是红的”他说,“红得像鸽子的爪子,红过深海里红珊瑚。可是,冬天封冻了我的血管,严寒摧残了我的花蕾,风暴折断了我的枝叶,今年我不会再有玫瑰花了。”

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

“我只要一朵玫瑰花,”夜莺祈求道,“只要一朵红玫瑰!难道我就没有办法得到它吗?”
“办法倒是有一个,”树儿回答说,“可是那样太可怕了,我不敢跟你说。”
“说吧,”夜莺说,“我不害怕。”
“如果你想得到一朵红玫瑰,”树儿说,“你就必须用月光和歌声来造它,还要用胸口的鲜血染红它。你必须用自己的胸膛顶住玫瑰树上一根刺唱歌,唱上整整一夜,而那根刺会穿透你的胸膛,你的鲜血会要汇入我的血管,并变成我的血。”

"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.

“用死亡换一朵玫瑰花,”夜莺叫道,“生命是多么可爱啊。坐在绿树林里看太阳驾驶着她的金战车,看月亮开着她的珍珠马车,是多么愉快啊!飘香的山楂,藏匿在山谷的风铃草,还有山头上盛开的石南花。尽管爱情胜过了生命,可是鸟儿的心跟人的心相比又算什么呢?”
于是她便张开翅膀飞走了。她影子一般飞过花园,又影子一般穿越了树林。

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

小伙子仍旧伏在草地上,跟她离开时一样,美丽的眼睛挂着泪珠。
“高兴点吧,”夜莺说,“高兴点吧,你会得到你的红玫瑰的。我要用月光和音乐造出一朵红玫瑰,用胸口的血把它染红。我要求你一件事回报这些,那就是你要做一个真正的恋人;因为,哲学是很聪明,而爱情比她更聪明;尽管权力很伟大,可是爱情比权力还要伟大。火焰映红了爱情的翅膀,爱情就像火焰一样红。他的嘴唇像蜜一样甘美;他的气息跟乳香一样芬芳。”

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.

小伙子从草丛中仰起头,但他不懂夜莺在对他讲什么,因为他只知道那些写在书本上的东西。
可是橡树知道,他很难受,因为他是那么喜爱在自己树枝上做巢的小夜莺。

"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 a lead-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.

“最后给我唱一支歌吧,”他轻轻说,“你离开了,我会孤独的。”
于是夜莺给橡树唱起了歌,她的声音就像是银瓶子里流动的水……
夜莺的歌声一停,小伙子便从草地上站起来,从兜里掏出笔记本和铅笔。
“她多好看啊,”他自言自语着,一面穿过小树林走了一一“毫无疑问,但是她有情感吗?恐怕没有吧?其实她和那些艺术家一样,徒有形式,没有真诚。她不会为别人奉献什么。她只想着单纯的音乐,大家都知道艺术是自私的。不过,她的歌声确实动听。只可惜它们毫无意义,毫无益处。”他走进自己的小屋,躺在简陋的小床上,想起他那心爱的姑娘,很快就酣然入梦了。

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.

等到月亮升起来,月光倾泻在玫瑰树叶上,夜莺飞向了玫瑰树,用自己的胸膛顶住玫瑰花的刺--夜莺的胸膛顶着刺,整整唱了一夜,就连水晶般冰冷的明月也俯下身来倾听。整整一夜她不停地唱,胸口上的刺扎得越来越深,眼看夜莺的鲜血慢慢流尽……

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.

她开始唱起了少男少女心中萌动的爱情。在玫瑰树最高的枝头上,绽放出一朵神奇的玫瑰。歌一首接一首地唱,花瓣一片接一片地开。开始,花儿是乳白色的,仿佛飘在河床上的水雾,白得像清晨的脚步,白得像黎明的翅膀。那枝头上盛开的玫瑰花,如同银镜中影子,又像水中的倒映。

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.

就在这时,树儿要夜莺把刺再顶紧些,“紧些,小夜莺,”树儿呼喊着,“不然,玫瑰花来不及开放,天就要亮了。”
于是夜莺把刺顶得更紧了,歌声也更加响亮了,因为她歌唱着一对成年男女心中爱情。
一层淡淡的红晕浸染了玫瑰花瓣,仿佛新郎亲吻新娘时,脸上的红晕一般。此时,花刺还没有刺进夜莺的心脏,所以玫瑰的心还是白色的,只有用夜莺心里的血才能染红玫瑰的花心。


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

这时树儿又大声叫夜莺顶得更紧些,“再紧些,小夜莺,”树儿高声呼喊,“不然,玫瑰花来不及开放,天就要亮了。”
于是夜莺就把玫瑰刺顶得更紧了,刺着心脏了,一阵一阵的剧烈的疼痛穿透了夜莺。疼痛越来越深了,歌声也越来越激昂,因为夜莺歌唱着由死亡去完成的爱情,歌唱着在坟墓里依然不朽的爱情。

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.

最后这朵神奇的玫瑰变成了深红色,和天边的红霞一样,花瓣是深红色的,花心红得红宝石一般。
可是,夜莺的歌声却越来越弱了,她的一双小翅膀开始扑打起来,一层薄雾从双眼升起--她的歌声弱了,更弱了,喉咙给什么堵住了似的。


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.

这时她唱出了最后一支歌--
月亮听着歌声,忘记了黎明,在天空中徘徊;
红玫瑰听着歌声,颤抖着,迎着冰冷的晨风打开了所有的花瓣--
回音把歌声带回了山中紫色的洞穴,
把酣眠的牧童从梦境唤醒……
歌声抚过河中的芦苇,芦苇又把歌声传向大海--

"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 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.

“看啦,看啦!”树儿叫了起来,“玫瑰开放了!”可是夜莺没有回答,因为她已经躺在长长的草丛中死去了,心口上深深扎着那枚刺……
中午, 小伙子从窗口向外望去--
“太幸运了!”他叫起来,“这儿有朵红玫瑰!我从没见过这样的玫瑰。多美的玫瑰花啊,她一定有一个长长的拉丁名字。”他俯下身,摘下了玫瑰花。
然后戴上帽子,拿起玫瑰就朝教授家奔去。

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.

教授的女儿正坐在门口,在纺车上织着蓝色的丝线,小狗躺在她脚边。
“你说过,只要我给你带来红玫瑰,你就会同我跳舞,”小伙子说,“这是全世界最
红的玫瑰花。今晚你就可以把它佩戴在胸前,当我们跳舞的时候,它会告诉你,我有多么爱你。”
然而少女却皱起眉头。
“恐怕玫瑰花与我的衣服不配啊,”姑娘回答,“再说,大臣的侄子已经送给我珍贵的宝石,谁都知道,宝石比花值钱多了。”
“噢,真的,你多么无情啊,”小伙子愤怒地说着,把玫瑰扔到大街上,花儿落入水洼里,一辆马车从玫瑰身上碾过……
“无情!”姑娘说,“我告诉你吧,你太无礼了;再说,你算什么?你只不过是个学生罢了。啊,我想你也不会像大臣侄子那样,有双钉了银钮扣的靴子。”说完,她站起来,转身走进屋里。

"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.

“爱情是多么愚蠢啊!”小伙子离开时说着。
“它还没有逻辑一半有用,它什么都证明不了,而它总是告诉人们一些根本不会发生的事,还让人去相信一些不真实的东西。其实,在这个一切都要实际年代,爱情太不现实了。我应该回到哲学中去,去学习纯粹的哲学。”
于是,他回到自己的小屋,拿出扑满尘埃的大厚书,读了起来。


<夜莺与玫瑰花>

她说过,如果我给她红玫瑰,她就会和我跳舞”小伙子说:“可是,我的花园里没有玫瑰花。”
夜莺在圣栎树上自己巢中的听见了小伙子的话,她透过绿叶丛向外张望。
“我的花园里没有玫瑰!”他叫着,美丽的眼睛里溢满了眼泪。“快乐原来只需要多么微小的事物啊!我读过许多聪明人的文章,那些神秘的哲理塞满我的大脑,可是,找不到一朵红玫瑰却让自己的生活这样凄凉。”
“总算看到一个真正的恋人了,” 夜莺自言自语:“我不认识他,但我想每夜都为他唱歌,我还想每夜都把他的故事给星星讲。现在我总算看见他了,他的头发黑得像风信子花,他的嘴唇就像他盼望的红玫瑰;只是,爱情折磨得他脸苍白得跟象牙一样,眉梢上停着忧伤。”
“王子明天晚上要举行舞会了,”小伙子喃喃自语道,“我心爱的姑娘也会去的。假如我能给她一朵红玫瑰,她就会整夜同我跳舞;如果我给她一朵红玫瑰,我就可以搂着她的腰,她会把头靠在我的肩上,手握在我的手心里。可是我的花园里没有红玫瑰,我只能孤零零地坐在一边,看着她从身旁经过。她将对我不屑一顾,我会心碎的。”
“这是个真正的恋人啊,”夜莺说,“我是在为他的烦恼而唱歌,我的快乐恰好来自于他的痛苦。爱情真是一件奇妙的事情,它比绿宝石更珍贵,比猫眼更希罕。市场上买不到,珍珠和石榴换不来,商人那儿没有出售,金子都没法衡量。”
“乐师们会坐在他们的走廊中,奏响音乐。我心爱的人将在竖琴和小提琴的音乐声里起舞。她将跳得那么轻快,仿佛在地板上飘拂,那些装束华丽的臣仆们定会将她围绕。而她是不会同我跳舞的,因为我没有带给她红玫瑰。”说着,他扑倒在草地上,捂着脸,放声痛哭起来。
“他怎么哭了?”一条绿色的小蜥蜴翘起小尾巴跑过时,吃惊地问。
“倒底怎么了?”一只蝴蝶她一面追着一缕阳光跳舞一面问。
“是啊,倒底怎么了?”一朵雏菊温婉地跟自已邻居说。
“他在为一朵红玫瑰哭。”夜莺告诉大家。
“为一朵红玫瑰?”他们惊叫着。“真好笑!” 总爱嘲讽别人的小蜥蜴大笑起来。
只有夜莺了解小伙子的忧伤,她默默地站在橡树上,思忖着爱情的神奇。
突然她展开棕色的翅膀,飞了出去。夜莺影子一般钻过小树林,又影子一般飞越花园。
就在草地中,有棵美丽的玫瑰树,她朝着玫瑰树飞过去,随即落在小树枝上。
“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是白色的”他说,“就像海上的泡沫,比高山上的积雪还白。你可以到我的哥哥那里,他就在古老的日晷边,也许可以满足你的愿望。”
于是,夜莺立刻飞向日晷旁边的玫瑰树。
“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌。”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是黄色的”他说,“就像琥珀宝座上那个美人鱼的金头发;比草地上盛开的水仙花还灿烂。不过,你可以去找我教室窗台下的兄弟,或许他能满足你的愿望。”
于是,夜莺立刻飞向教室旁边的玫瑰树。
“给我一朵红玫瑰吧,”她恳求道,“我会给你唱最甜美的歌。”
可是,树儿摇摇头。
“我的花儿是红的”他说,“红得像鸽子的爪子,红过深海里红珊瑚。可是,冬天封冻了我的血管,严寒摧残了我的花蕾,风暴折断了我的枝叶,今年我不会再有玫瑰花了。”
“我只要一朵玫瑰花,”夜莺祈求道,“只要一朵红玫瑰!难道我就没有办法得到它吗?”
“办法倒是有一个,”树儿回答说,“可是那样太可怕了,我不敢跟你说。”
“说吧,”夜莺说,“我不害怕。”
“如果你想得到一朵红玫瑰,”树儿说,“你就必须用月光和歌声来造它,还要用胸口的鲜血染红它。你必须用自己的胸膛顶住玫瑰树上一根刺唱歌,唱上整整一夜,而那根刺会穿透你的胸膛,你的鲜血会要汇入我的血管,并变成我的血。”
“用死亡换一朵玫瑰花,”夜莺叫道,“生命是多么可爱啊。坐在绿树林里看太阳驾驶着她的金战车,看月亮开着她的珍珠马车,是多么愉快啊!飘香的山楂,藏匿在山谷的风铃草,还有山头上盛开的石南花。尽管爱情胜过了生命,可是鸟儿的心跟人的心相比又算什么呢?”
于是她便张开翅膀飞走了。她影子一般飞过花园,又影子一般穿越了树林。
小伙子仍旧伏在草地上,跟她离开时一样,美丽的眼睛挂着泪珠。
“高兴点吧,”夜莺说,“高兴点吧,你会得到你的红玫瑰的。我要用月光和音乐造出一朵红玫瑰,用胸口的血把它染红。我要求你一件事回报这些,那就是你要做一个真正的恋人;因为,哲学是很聪明,而爱情比她更聪明;尽管权力很伟大,可是爱情比权力还要伟大。火焰映红了爱情的翅膀,爱情就像火焰一样红。他的嘴唇像蜜一样甘美;他的气息跟乳香一样芬芳。”
小伙子从草丛中仰起头,但他不懂夜莺在对他讲什么,因为他只知道那些写在书本上的东西。
可是橡树知道,他很难受,因为他是那么喜爱在自己树枝上做巢的小夜莺。
“最后给我唱一支歌吧,”他轻轻说,“你离开了,我会孤独的。”
于是夜莺给橡树唱起了歌,她的声音就像是银瓶子里流动的水……
夜莺的歌声一停,小伙子便从草地上站起来,从兜里掏出笔记本和铅笔。
“她多好看啊,”他自言自语着,一面穿过小树林走了一一“毫无疑问,但是她有情感吗?恐怕没有吧?其实她和那些艺术家一样,徒有形式,没有真诚。她不会为别人奉献什么。她只想着单纯的音乐,大家都知道艺术是自私的。不过,她的歌声确实动听。只可惜它们毫无意义,毫无益处。”他走进自己的小屋,躺在简陋的小床上,想起他那心爱的姑娘,很快就酣然入梦了。
等到月亮升起来,月光倾泻在玫瑰树叶上,夜莺飞向了玫瑰树,用自己的胸膛顶住玫瑰花的刺--夜莺的胸膛顶着刺,整整唱了一夜,就连水晶般冰冷的明月也俯下身来倾听。整整一夜她不停地唱,胸口上的刺扎得越来越深,眼看夜莺的鲜血慢慢流尽……
她开始唱起了少男少女心中萌动的爱情。在玫瑰树最高的枝头上,绽放出一朵神奇的玫瑰。歌一首接一首地唱,花瓣一片接一片地开。开始,花儿是乳白色的,仿佛飘在河床上的水雾,白得像清晨的脚步,白得像黎明的翅膀。那枝头上盛开的玫瑰花,如同银镜中影子,又像水中的倒映..
就在这时,树儿要夜莺把刺再顶紧些,“紧些,小夜莺,”树儿呼喊着,“不然,玫瑰花来不及开放,天就要亮了。”
于是夜莺把刺顶得更紧了,歌声也更加响亮了,因为她歌唱着一对成年男女心中爱情。
一层淡淡的红晕浸染了玫瑰花瓣,仿佛新郎亲吻新娘时,脸上的红晕一般。此时,花刺还没有刺进夜莺的心脏,所以玫瑰的心还是白色的,只有用夜莺心里的血才能染红玫瑰的花心。
这时树儿又大声叫夜莺顶得更紧些,“再紧些,小夜莺,”树儿高声呼喊,“不然,玫瑰花来不及开放,天就要亮了。”
于是夜莺就把玫瑰刺顶得更紧了,刺着心脏了,一阵一阵的剧烈的疼痛穿透了夜莺。疼痛越来越深了,歌声也越来越激昂,因为夜莺歌唱着由死亡去完成的爱情,歌唱着在坟墓里依然不朽的爱情。
最后这朵神奇的玫瑰变成了深红色,和天边的红霞一样,花瓣是深红色的,花心红得红宝石一般。
可是,夜莺的歌声却越来越弱了,她的一双小翅膀开始扑打起来,一层薄雾从双眼升起--她的歌声弱了,更弱了,喉咙给什么堵住了似的。
这时她唱出了最后一支歌--
月亮听着歌声,忘记了黎明,在天空中徘徊;
红玫瑰听着歌声,颤抖着,迎着冰冷的晨风打开了所有的花瓣--
回音把歌声带回了山中紫色的洞穴,
把酣眠的牧童从梦境唤醒……
歌声抚过河中的芦苇,芦苇又把歌声传向大海--
“看啦,看啦!”树儿叫了起来,“玫瑰开放了!”可是夜莺没有回答,因为她已经躺在长长的草丛中死去了,心口上深深扎着那枚刺……
中午, 小伙子从窗口向外望去--
“太幸运了!”他叫起来,“这儿有朵红玫瑰!我从没见过这样的玫瑰。多美的玫瑰花啊,她一定有一个长长的拉丁名字。”他俯下身,摘下了玫瑰花。
然后戴上帽子,拿起玫瑰就朝教授家奔去。
教授的女儿正坐在门口,在纺车上织着蓝色的丝线,小狗躺在她脚边。
“你说过,只要我给你带来红玫瑰,你就会同我跳舞,”小伙子说,“这是全世界最红的玫瑰花。今晚你就可以把它佩戴在胸前,当我们跳舞的时候,它会告诉你,我有多么爱你。”
然而少女却皱起眉头。
“恐怕玫瑰花与我的衣服不配啊,”姑娘回答,“再说,大臣的侄子已经送给我珍贵的宝石,谁都知道,宝石比花值钱多了。”
“噢,真的,你多么无情啊,”小伙子愤怒地说着,把玫瑰扔到大街上,花儿落入水洼里,一辆马车从玫瑰身上碾过……
“无情!”姑娘说,“我告诉你吧,你太无礼了;再说,你算什么?你只不过是个学生罢了。啊,我想你也不会像大臣侄子那样,有双钉了银钮扣的靴子。”说完,她站起来,转身走进屋里。
爱情是多么愚蠢啊!”小伙子离开时说着。
“它还没有逻辑一半有用,它什么都证明不了,而它总是告诉人们一些根本不会发生的事,还让人去相信一些不真实的东西。其实,在这个一切都要实际年代,爱情太不现实了。我应该回到哲学中去,去学习纯粹的哲学。”
于是,他回到自己的小屋,拿出扑满尘埃的大厚书,读了起来。

 

http://blog.chinaunix.net/space.php?uid=20042127&do=blog&id=1982310

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