The Nightingale and the Rose is one of Wilde's famous fairy tales. In order to get love, the nightingale is willing to create a rose for young people with her life and blood, but the fickle girl regards it as a worthless story, which profoundly reflects people's different views on love. In the nightingale's mind, love is better than life; In the minds of young people, love has no logical half; In the eyes of girls, love is not as good as silver buttons on shoes. The work focuses on shaping the moving fairy tale image of nightingale. It understands the true value of love, sympathizes with the lovelorn young people, and is willing to give his precious life to help young people get the happiness of love. It has a lofty spirit of self-sacrifice. The author devoted all his passion and love to this fairy tale image, making it shine. The girl is the negative image in her works. There is not much pen and ink on her body, only a few strokes, but there is a humbleness in writing her own soul. She doesn't keep her word, doesn't understand the value of love, is greedy and vulgar. Through this image, the author severely lashed the money worship in the rising period of the British social bourgeoisie at that time, which was highly targeted in reality. The works are exquisitely conceived, elegant in style, sincere and simple in language, and full of lush poetic beauty.
Lou Fu Fei
the nightingale and the rose
"She said she would dance with me as long as I gave her a red rose," the young student said loudly. "But there is not even a red rose in my garden."
The nightingale heard his words in the nest on the evergreen oak tree. She looked out from the green leaves and was very surprised.
"I have searched all over the garden, but I can't find a red rose." He cried, and his beautiful eyes were full of tears. "Well, I can't believe that happiness will be associated with such a small thing! I have read what those smart people wrote, and I know all the secrets of learning, but my life has become very unfortunate because of the lack of a red rose. "
"Now I have found a faithful lover," said the nightingale to herself. "Although I don't know him, I sing praises for him every night. I told his story to the stars night after night, and now I see him with my own eyes. His hair is as black as a blooming hyacinthus orientalis, and his lips are as red as the roses he longs for. But enthusiasm turned his face like pale ivory, and sadness was printed on his forehead. "
"The prince will have a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young student. "The person I love is going to the party. If I bring her a red rose, she will dance with me until dawn. If I send her a red rose, I can hug her, put her head on my shoulder and hold her hand in mine. But there are no red roses in my garden, so I have to sit there alone. She will pass by me and ignore me. My heart will break when she ignores me. "
"This is really a faithful lover," said the nightingale. "I sang something that made him miserable. Now I am a happy thing, but now he has become a painful thing. Love is really a great thing. It is more valuable than emeralds, more valuable than opals, and jewelry can't buy it. It is not displayed in the market, nor can it be bought from businessmen, let alone called money. "
"Musicians will sit in their corridors," said the young student. My lover plays stringed instruments and dances to the sound of harp and violin. She would jump so lightly as if her feet were not touching the floor; Courtiers in beautiful clothes will flock around her. But she wouldn't dance with me because I didn't have any red roses for her. "So he threw himself on the grass, covered his face with his hands and began to cry.
"Why is he crying?" A little green lizard ran up to the students with its tail up and asked.
"Really, for what?" A butterfly said that he was dancing with a ray of sunshine.
"Really, for what?" A daisy whispered to her neighbor.
"He is crying for a red rose!" Replied the nightingale.
"For a red rose!" They shouted. "How ridiculous!" Little lizards always like to mock people. He laughed loudly.
However, the nightingale understands the students' troubles. She sat quietly on the oak branch, thinking about incredible love.
Suddenly, she spread her brown wings and flew into the air. She walked through the Woods like a shadow and flew over the garden like a shadow.
There is a beautiful rose tree in the middle of the grass. When she saw the tree, she flew over and perched on one of its branches.
"Give me a red rose," she said loudly, "and I will sing you my best song."
But the tree shook its head.
"My rose is white," it replied, "as white as the waves in the sea and whiter than the snow on the top of the mountain. Go find my brother who grew up next to the old sundial. Maybe he will give you what you want. "
The nightingale flew to the rose tree next to the sundial.
"Give me a red rose," she said loudly, "and I will sing you my best song."
But the tree shook its head.
"My rose is yellow," it replied. "It's as yellow as the mermaid's hair sitting on the amber throne, and it's even yellow than the daffodils that bloomed on the grass before the mowers came with sickles. Go find my brother who grew up under the student window. Maybe he will give you what you want. "
The nightingale flies to the rose tree growing under the student window.
"Give me a red rose," she said loudly, "and I will sing you my best song."
But the tree shook its head.
"My rose is red," it replied, "as red as a dove's foot, and redder than a coral fan flapping in an ocean cave. But winter has frozen my blood vessels, frost has dried my buds, and wind and rain have broken my branches. I won't bloom again this year. "
"I just want a red rose," cried the nightingale. "Just a red rose; Is there any other way I can get it? "
"There is an idea," the tree replied, "but it is too terrible for me to tell you."
"Tell me," said the nightingale. "I'm not afraid."
"If you want a red rose," said the tree, "you must make it with music in the moonlight and dye it with your heart. You must stick your chest on my thorn and sing for me. You must sing for me all night, and that thorn must pierce your heart. Your blood must also flow into my veins to become my blood. "
"It's too expensive to exchange your death for a red rose," cried the nightingale. "Life is precious to everyone. How happy it is to sit on the green tree and watch the sun driving in his golden carriage and the moon driving out in her pearl carriage. The taste of hawthorn is fragrant, so are the platycodon grandiflorum hidden in the valley and the heather on the hill. But love is better than life. How can a bird's heart be compared with a man's? "
She spread her brown wings and flew into the air. She flitted across the garden like a shadow and walked through the Woods like a shadow.
The young student is still lying on the grass, just as she left him earlier; The tears in his beautiful eyes have not dried up.
"You should be happy," cried the nightingale. "You should be happy; You will get your red rose. I will make it with music under the moon and dye it red with my heart. I only ask you to do one thing to repay me, and that is to be a loyal lover, because no matter how clever philosophy is, love is smarter than her, and no matter how powerful it is, love is greater than him. The wings of love are the color of flame, and so is his body. His lips are as sweet as honey; His breath smells like frankincense. "
The student raised his head on the grass and listened sideways, but he didn't understand what the nightingale was saying to him because he only knew what was written in the book.
But the oak tree knew that he was sad, because he liked the little nightingale that built its nest on his branch.
"Sing me one last song," he said softly. "I will feel lonely when you die."
The nightingale sings to the oak tree, and her voice is like boiling water in a silver jar.
After she finished singing, the student stood up and took out a notebook and pencil from his pocket.
"She's beautiful," he said to himself, and walked away through the Woods-"there is no denying it; But does she have feelings? I don't think she did. In fact, she is like most artists; She has only appearance, but no sincerity. She won't sacrifice herself for others. She only cares about music. Everyone knows that art is selfish. But I have to admit that there are some beautiful tones in her voice. Unfortunately, they are completely meaningless and have no practical benefits. " He went into the room, lay down in his cot, and thought of his lover again. After a while, he fell asleep.
When the moon rose to the sky, the nightingale flew to the rose tree and put her breast against the rose thorn. She sang her chest against the thorns all night, and the clear Leng Yue bowed her head and listened quietly. She sang all night, and the rose thorn pierced her chest. The deeper the thorn, the less blood she had.
At first, she sang about the love in the hearts of a pair of young children. A strange rose blooms on the highest branch of the rose tree, singing one by one, and the petals bloom one by one. Flowers are pale at first, like fog on the river, pale like the feet of morning light, and silvery white like the wings of dawn. The rose on the highest branch is like a wild rose in a silver mirror and a wild rose in a pool.
But the tree told the nightingale to hold the thorn tighter. "Stay nearby, little nightingale," cried the tree, "otherwise, the rose will come during the day before it is finished."
The nightingale pricked the rose tighter, and her singing became louder and louder, because she sang the passion of a pair of adult men and women.
A delicate blush rose petal, just like the blush on the bride's face when the groom kisses her. But the thorn has not pierced the nightingale's heart, so the rose's heart is still white, because only the nightingale's efforts can dye the rose's heart red.
The tree told the nightingale to hold the thorn tighter. "Come closer, little nightingale," cried the tree, "otherwise, the roses will come before the day is finished."
The nightingale pricked the rose tighter and hurt her heart. A sharp pain spread throughout her body. The harsher she is, the more passionate she sings, because what she sings is the love completed by death and the immortal love in the grave.
This strange rose turned crimson, just like the sunrise in the eastern sky. The petal outer ring is crimson, and the flower heart is as red as ruby.
But the nightingale's song died away, and she fluttered to fly, and a veil covered her eyes. Her singing is getting lower and lower, and she feels that her throat is blocked by something.
So she sang the last song. Hearing this, the moon forgot to set, just wandering in the sky. After hearing this, the red rose trembled with ecstasy and opened its petals to meet the chill of the morning. The echo brought it to her purple cave in the mountains and awakened the sleeping shepherd boy from his good dream. It floated across the reeds by the river, and the reeds brought its news to the sea.
"Look, look!" The tree cried, "Now the rose is finished." But the nightingale didn't answer, because she had been stabbed to death in the tall green grass with roses.
At noon, the students opened the window and looked out.
"Ah, what luck!" He shouted. "Here is a red rose! I have never seen such roses in my life. It's beautiful. I believe it has a long Latin name. " He bent down to the window and took it off.
So he put on his hat and ran to the professor's house with red roses.
The professor's daughter is sitting at the door, winding her hair on the spinning wheel, and her dog is lying at her feet.
"You said that if I gave you a red rose, you would dance with me," the student said loudly. "This is the reddest rose in the world. You wear it in your private place tonight. When we dance together, it will tell you how much I love you. "
But the girl frowned.
"I'm afraid it doesn't match my dress," she replied. "In addition, the nephew of the command minister gave me some beautiful jewels. Everyone knows that jewelry is more valuable than flowers. "
"Well, I'll tell you the truth, you are ungrateful," the student said angrily. He threw the flower into the street. It happened to fall into the ditch and a wheel ran over it.
"Ungrateful!" The girl said. "I tell you the truth, you are so rude! Besides, who are you? You are just a student. Well, I don't believe you have silver buttons on your shoes like the priest's nephew. " She stood up and walked into the house.
"What a boring thing love is," the student said as he walked. "Half as useful as logic. Because it can't prove anything, it always tells people something that won't happen and always teaches people to believe something untrue. In short, this is completely unrealistic. In our time, everything must be practical. I'd better go back to study philosophy and metaphysics. "
He went back to his room, took out a big dusty book and began to read.
(translated by Ba Jin)