谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

2021年1月19日发(作者：戚烈云)












THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE




said
that
she
would
dance
with
me
if
I
brought
her
red
roses,
rose.


From
her
nest
in
the
oak
tree
the
Nightingale
heard
him,
and
she looked out through the leaves and wondered.



filled with tears.
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.



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.



Prince
gives
a
ball
(
舞会
)
to-morrow
night,
murmured
the young student,
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 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.



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 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:
buried his face in his hands, and wept.



is
he
weeping?
asked
a
little
Green
Lizard,
as
he
ran
past him with his tail in the air.



a sunbeam.



low voice.






a
red
rose?
they
cried:

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.



me
a
red
rose,
she
cried,

I
will
sing
you
my
sweetest song.


But the Tree shook its head.



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.



me
a
red
rose,
she
cried,

I
will
sing
you
my
sweetest song.


But the Tree shook its head.



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.



me
a
red
rose,
she
cried,

I
will
sing
you
my
sweetest song.


But the Tree shook its head.



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.



red
rose
is
all
I
want,
cried
the
Nightingale,

one
red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?



dare not tell it to you.






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.



is
a
great
price
to
pay
for
a
red
rose,
cried
the
Nightingale,
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.



happy,
cried
the
Nightingale,

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
(
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.



me
one
last
song,
he
whispered;

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.



the grove
—

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.
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.

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词

谣言止于智者-传奇的歌词