The nightingale was very surprised to hear him talking in the nest of the holy oak tree and looking out through the cracks in the leaves.
"There are no red roses in the whole garden!" The student cried, and his beautiful eyes were full of tears. "Ah, happiness depends on some trivial things! I have read all the books written by philosophers and mastered all the secrets of philosophy, but life is miserable because of the lack of a red rose. "
"I finally found a spoony lover." The nightingale said, "although I don't know him, I sang for him all night;" I told the star his story all night, and I haven't seen him until now. His hair is as dark as the color of hyacinthus orientalis flowers, and his lips are as red as the roses he wants; But passion turned his face pale, like ivory, and sadness left a mark on his forehead. "
"The prince will have a ball tomorrow night," said the young student. "My wife will also attend. If I send her a red rose, she will dance with me until the early hours of the morning; If I send her a red rose, I can hold her hand and put my arm around her, and she will put her head on my shoulder. But there are no red roses in my garden, so I can only sit alone. She will pass by me and ignore me, and my heart will be broken. "
"He is really a spoony lover." The nightingale said, "He is suffering for the song I sang. What is happy for me is painful for him. Love is certainly a beautiful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and more precious than beautiful opals. Pearls and garnets are not available, and they are not available on the market. You can't buy it from a businessman, and you can't measure its value in gold with a balance. "
"Musicians will sit in the long corridor and play stringed instruments," said the young student. "My wife will dance to the music of the harp and violin. She danced so lightly as if her toes didn't touch the floor. Those courtiers in gorgeous clothes will surround her. But she won't dance with me because I have no red roses for her. " He threw himself on the grass, covered his face with his hand and began to cry.
"Why is he crying?" Asked a little green lizard with an upright tail as it ran past the students.
"Yes, why?" The butterfly chasing a beam of sunshine 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 cried and said, "This is ridiculous!" The little lizard was a bitch and smiled on the spot.
But the nightingale knows the secret of students' sadness. She stopped quietly on the oak branch, thinking about the mystery of love.
Suddenly, the nightingale spread its brown wings, flew high into the air, and then swept through the Woods like a shadow and slipped into the garden.
There is a rose tree in the middle of the lawn. When the nightingale saw it, she flew to it and stopped on a branch.
"Give me a red rose," said the nightingale, "and I will sing the most beautiful song for you."
But the rose tree shook its head.
"My roses are all white," replied the rose tree. "They are as white as foam on the waves. They are whiter than the snow on the snowy mountain. Go to my brother, who grew up next to that old sundial and may give you what you want. "
So the nightingale flew to the rose tree beside the ancient sundial.
"Give me a red rose," said the nightingale, "and I will sing the most beautiful song for you."
But the rose tree shook its head.
"My roses are all yellow," replied the rose tree, "just like the hair of a mermaid sitting on the amber throne. They are yellower than the daffodils that bloomed on the water plants before the lawn mower came with a sickle. Go and find my brother. He grew up under the student's window and may be able to give you what you want. "
So the nightingale flew to the rose tree under the student window.
"Give me a red rose," said the nightingale, "and I will sing the most beautiful song for you."
But the rose tree shook its head.
"My rose is red," replied the rose tree. "It's as red as a pigeon's foot, and redder than the coral flapping in an ocean cave. But the cold of winter invaded my blood vessels, frost blocked my buds, and the storm broke my branches. I won't bloom again this year. "
"I just want a red rose," cried the nightingale. "Just one! Can't I get it? "
"There is a way." The rose tree replied, "But it's too terrible for me to tell you."
"Tell me." The nightingale said, "I'm not afraid."
"If you want a red rose," said the rose tree, "you must make it with music in the moonlight and dye it red with your own efforts. When you sing, you must stick your chest on my spikes. You must sing all night, the spike will pierce your heart, and then the blood of your life will flow into my veins and become mine. "
"It is very expensive to exchange death for a red rose." The nightingale said, "Life is precious to all people. How pleasant it is to stop in the green Woods and watch the sun driving a golden carriage and the moon driving a pearl carriage across the sky! The hawthorn flowers are so fragrant, so are the blue campanula flowers hidden in the valley and the heather flowers blooming on the hills. But love is more precious than life. How can a bird's heart be compared with a person's? "
So the nightingale spread her brown wings and flew high into the air, then swept the garden and slid through the Woods like a shadow.
The young student is still lying on the grass as before when the nightingale left him, and the tears in his beautiful eyes are still wet.
"You should be happy," cried the nightingale. "You should be happy, you will get red roses. I will make it in the moonlight and dye it red with my own efforts. I only ask you to 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 wings is like a flame, and the color of body is like a flame. Love's lips are as sweet as honey, and breath is as sweet as frankincense. "
The student looked up at the nightingale and listened to her cry, but he didn't understand what she was saying to him because he only knew what was written in the book.
But the holy oak tree understood and felt very sad, because he liked the nightingale who built its nest on his branch.
"Sing me one last song," the oak tree said softly. "I will feel very lonely after you leave."
The nightingale sang a song to the sacred oak tree. It sounded like the water in a silver bottle was bubbling.
After the nightingale finished singing, the students stood up and took out their notebooks and pencils from their pockets.
"She has mastered the form of music," he said to himself as he walked through the Woods. "There is no denying this; But does she have feelings? I am afraid that we don't have. In fact, she is the same as all artists: only style, no feelings. She won't sacrifice herself for others. She only cares about music. Everyone knows that artists are selfish. But I must admit, she sang some wonderful notes. Unfortunately, they are meaningless and have no practical value! " The students went back to their room, lay in that simple little bed, and began to miss their lover again. After a while, he fell asleep.
When the moon rises, the nightingale flies to the rose tree and sticks her chest to the ear. She sang all night with a sharp thorn in her chest. Leng Yue bowed their heads and listened. The nightingale sang all night, and the sharp thorn pierced her chest deeper and deeper, and the blood of her life was slowly losing.
At first, the nightingale sang about the birth of love in the hearts of a boy and a girl, and a magical flower bloomed on the highest branch of the rose. As the nightingale sang one song after another, the petals opened one by one. At first, the flower was pale, just like the fog hanging over the river-as white as the feet of the morning light and as white as the wings of the morning light. This flower, which blooms on the highest branch of the rose tree, is like the shadow of a rose in a pond and a silver mirror.
But the rose tree told the nightingale to stick the thorn deeper. "Little nightingale, press deeper." The rose tree cried, "Otherwise, the day will come when the rose has not been made."
The nightingale pressed the spike deeper and her singing became louder and louder. She sang about the love in the hearts of a young man and a young woman.
The petals of a rose bloom with a delicate blush, just like the blush on the bride's face when the groom kisses her. But the thorn of the rose has not pierced the nightingale's heart, and the rose's heart is still white. Only the nightingale's painstaking efforts can dye the rose's heart red.
Ross also told the nightingale to press the thorn deeper. "Little nightingale, press deeper." The rose cried, "Otherwise, the rose will come during the day before it is made."
The nightingale pressed the ear deeper. The tip of the needle touched her heart and a sharp pain spread all over her body. How severe the pain is, her songs become so fanatical. She sang the love that became more perfect because of death, and also sang the love that would not die in the grave.
This magical rose turned crimson, just like the morning glow in the east. Not only the petals of the outer ring are crimson, but the heart of the rose is also like a ruby.
But the nightingale's voice faded, and her little wings began to beat, and the thin veil covered her eyes. Her singing is getting weaker and weaker, and she feels something choking her throat.
Then the nightingale suddenly sang the last song. The snow-white moon heard the song, forgot that the dawn had arrived, and stayed in the sky for a long time and refused to leave. The red rose trembled with joy when she heard this song, and opened her petals in the cold air in the morning. The echo goddess brought the song back to her purple cave in the mountains and awakened the sleeping shepherd boy from his dream. The song floated in the reeds on the river bank, and the reeds brought its message to the sea.
"Look, look!" The rose tree cries, "The rose is ready." But the nightingale didn't answer, because she had fallen into the tall grass and died, and the spike stuck in her heart.
At noon, the students opened the window and looked out.
"Oh, my luck!" The student cried, "here is a red rose!" " I have never seen such a beautiful rose in my life. It's so beautiful. It must have a long Latin name. "He bent down and picked the rose.
Then he put on his hat and ran to the professor's house with roses in his hand.
The professor's daughter is sitting on the porch, winding blue silk thread on the spinning wheel, and her dog is lying at her feet.
"You said you would dance with me if I gave you a red rose." The student cried, "This is the reddest rose in the world. Wear it on your heart tonight. When we dance together, it will tell you how much I love you. "
But the girl frowned.
"It doesn't match my clothes." She replied, "Besides, the courtier's nephew gave me some real jewels. Everyone knows that jewelry is much more valuable than flowers. "
"To tell you the truth, you are really ungrateful." The students threw roses into the street angrily. The rose fell into the open ditch in the street and was run over by the wheel.
"I don't know how grateful I am!" The girl said, "What I want to tell you is that you are rude. Besides, what are you? Just a student. Gongchen's nephew's shoes have silver buttons, and you don't even have this. " She got up from her chair and walked into the room.
"Love is ridiculous!" Students talk to themselves as they walk: "It's not half as useful as logic. Love proves nothing. It always tells people something that will never happen and makes people believe something that is not true at all. In fact, love is not practical at all In this era, practicality is everything. Therefore, I should return to philosophy and study metaphysics. "
He went back to his room, took out a big dusty book and began to read.