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夜莺与玫瑰编辑推荐《夜莺与玫瑰》是王尔德最为经典的作品之一。
收录了他《夜莺与玫瑰》、《快乐王子》、《自私的巨人》等脍炙人口的作品。
《夜莺与玫瑰》于1888年首次出版即引起轰动。
在他的每篇作品中，几乎都有一个因为“至爱”而变得“至美”的形象。
无论你是“初读”还是“重温”，都将是一次愉快的精神之旅。
与安徒生童话相媲美的世界经典童话唯美主义大师、传奇才子王尔德的生命之歌林徽因讲述给梁思成的经典爱情故事周作人、巴金、梁思成都倾心的童话集梁实秋、胡适、陈伯吹盛赞内容简介《夜莺与玫瑰》是英国唯美主义作家王尔德的童话作品之一，不仅是—篇脍炙人口、充满想象的童话故事，更像是一篇内涵深沉的散文。
华丽的辞藻，优雅的文体，无不散发着美的气息。
同时，这篇童话作品又是一篇发人深省的批判议沦，是作者以极大的同情与怜悯写成的，是真诚与虚伪的对立，在这种对立中讴歌了夏、善、美，鞭挞了假、恶、丑。
王尔德历推崇的唯美主义艺术主张在《夜荤与玫瑰》中发挥到了极致。
作者简介奥斯卡·王尔德（OscarWilde）（1854—1900），剧作家、诗人、散文家，19世纪与萧伯纳齐名的英国才子，被当今世人誉为最能与安徒生齐名的童话作家。
著有《快乐王子》《夜莺与玫瑰》《自私的巨人》等多部脍炙人口的经典童话作品。
媒体评论父亲在给我们朗读自己的作品时，也会因此感动得潸然泪下。
——王尔德的小儿子爱的目的就是爱，不多也不少。
——奥斯卡·王尔德来生愿意与王尔德倾心长谈。
——温斯顿·丘吉尔目录译者序——爱与伤同在夜莺与玫瑰幸福王子自私的巨人忠实的朋友少年国王小公主的生日了不起的火箭星孩渔夫和他的灵魂译者序——爱与伤同在童话究竟是什么呢？童话是一种具有浓厚幻想色彩的虚构故事，多采用夸张、拟人、象征等手法去编织奇异的情节。
幻想是其基本特征，也是童话反映生活的特殊艺术手段。
说到童话，就不得不提王尔德童话。
王尔德（1854——1900）的名字是和19世纪后半期英国的唯美主义运动牢牢拴在一起的。
王尔德童话之《夜莺与玫瑰》(3)王尔德童话之《夜莺与玫瑰》最后这朵非凡的玫瑰变成了深红色，就像东方天际的红霞，花瓣的外环是深红色的，花心更红得好似一块红宝石。
不过夜莺的歌声却越来越弱了，她的一双小翅膀开始扑打起来，一层雾膜爬上了她的双目。
她的歌声变得更弱了，她觉得喉咙给什麽东西堵住了。
这时她唱出了最后一曲。
明月听著歌声，竟然忘记了黎明，只顾在天空中徘徊。
红玫瑰听到歌声，更是欣喜若狂，张开了所有的花瓣去迎接凉凉的晨风。
回声把歌声带回自己山中的紫色洞穴中，把酣睡的牧童从梦乡中唤醒。
歌声飘越过河中的芦苇，芦苇又把声音传给了大海。
“快看，快看!”树叫了起来，“玫瑰已长好了。
”可是夜莺没有回答，因为她已经躺在长长的草丛中死去了，心口上还扎著那根刺。
中午时分，学生打开窗户朝外看去。
“啊，多好的运气呀!”他大声嚷道，“这儿竟有一朵红玫瑰!这样的玫瑰我一生也不曾见过。
它太美了，我敢说它有一个好长的拉丁名字。
”他俯下身去把它摘了下来。
随即他戴上帽子，拿起玫瑰，朝教授的家跑去。
教授的女儿正坐在门口，在纺车上纺著蓝色的丝线，她的小狗躺在她的脚旁。
“你说过只要我送你一朵红玫遗，你就会同我跳舞，”学生高声说道，“这是全世界最红的一朵玫瑰。
你今晚就把它戴在你的胸口上，我们一起跳舞的时候，它会告诉你我是多麽的爱你。
”然而少女却皱起眉头。
“我担心它与我的衣服不相配，”她回答说，“再说，宫廷大臣的侄儿已经送给我一些珍贵的珠宝，人人都知道珠宝比花更加值钱。
”“噢，我要说，你是个忘恩负义的人，”学生愤怒地说。
一下把玫瑰扔到了大街上，玫瑰落入阴沟裏，一辆马车从它身上碾了过去。
“忘恩负义!”少女说，“我告诉你吧，你太无礼;再说，你是什麽?只是个学生。
啊，我敢说你不会像宫廷大臣侄儿那样，鞋上钉有银扣子。
”说完她就从椅子上站起来朝屋裏走去。
“爱情是多麽愚昧啊!”学生一边走一边说，“它不及逻辑一半管用，因为它什麽都证明不了，而它总是告诉人们一些不会发生的事，并且还让人相信一些不真实的事。
★、夜莺与玫瑰爱果然是非常奇妙的东西，比翡翠还珍重，比玛瑙更宝贵。
珍珠、宝石买不到它，黄金买不到它，因为它不是在市场上出售的，也不是商人贩卖的东西。
“她说只要我为她采得一朵红玫瑰，便与我跳舞，”青年学生哭着说，“但我的花园里何曾有一朵红玫瑰？”橡树上的夜莺在巢中听见了，从叶丛里往外望，心中诧异。
“我的园子中并没有红玫瑰，”青年学生的秀眼里满含泪珠，“唉，难道幸福就寄托在这些小东西上面吗？古圣贤书我已读完，哲学的玄奥我已领悟，然而就因为缺少一朵红玫瑰，生活就如此让我难堪吗？”“这才是真正的有情人，”夜莺叹道，“以前我虽然不曾与他交流，但我却夜夜为他歌唱，夜夜将他的一切故事告诉星辰。
如今我见着他了，他的头发黑如风信子花，嘴唇犹如他想要的玫瑰一样艳红，但是感情的折磨使他的脸色苍白如象牙，忧伤的痕迹也已悄悄爬上他的眉梢。
”青年学生又低声自语：“王子在明天的晚宴上会跳舞，我的爱人也会去那里。
我若为她采得红玫瑰，她就会和我一直跳舞到天明。
我若为她采得红玫瑰，将有机会把她抱在怀里。
她的头，在我肩上枕着；她的手，在我掌心中握着。
但花园里没有红玫瑰，我只能寂寞地望着她，看着她从我身旁擦肩而过，她不理睬我，我的心将要粉碎了。
”“这的确是一个真正的有情人，”夜莺又说，“我所歌唱的，正是他的痛苦；我所快乐的，正是他的悲伤。
‘爱’果然是非常奇妙的东西，比翡翠还珍重，比玛瑙更宝贵。
珍珠、宝石买不到它，黄金买不到它，因为它不是在市场上出售的，也不是商人贩卖的东西。
”青年学生说：“乐师将在舞会上弹弄丝竹，我那爱人也将随着弦琴的音乐声翩翩起舞，神采飞扬，风华绝代，莲步都不曾着地似的。
穿着华服的少年公子都艳羡地围着她，但她不跟我跳舞，因为我没有为她采得红玫瑰。
”他扑倒在草地里，双手掩着脸哭泣。
“他为什么哭泣呀？”绿色的小壁虎，竖起尾巴从他身前跑过。
蝴蝶正追着阳光飞舞，也问道：“是呀，他为什么哭泣？”金盏花也向她的邻居低声探问：“是呀，他到底为什么哭泣？”夜莺说：“他在为一朵红玫瑰哭泣。
夜莺与玫瑰“她许诺她将与我共舞一曲如果我赠予她一朵红玫瑰”，年轻的学生大声喊道，“可是望遍我的花园丝毫没有红玫瑰的踪影。
”夜莺在橡树上的窝里听见了年轻学生的话，然后她透过层层树叶往外看并且猜测着。
“在我的花园中没有任何红玫瑰的踪迹”，他喊道，他的眼眶中盈满了泪水。
“啊，枉我博览群书，所有哲学上的秘密都已成为我的，现在我的生活却因缺少了一朵红玫瑰而陷入痛苦之中。
”“在这儿最终是一个真正的情人”，小夜莺说道，“我夜夜歌颂他尽管我并不认识他，现在我终于看见他了。
”“王子将在明晚举办一场舞会，”年轻学生喃喃自语，“我的爱人将在那儿。
如果我赠予她一朵红玫瑰我她将与我共舞直到黎明。
这样我就可以拥她入怀，她将头靠在我肩膀上，然后她的手紧握在我手里。
然而在我的花园里没有红玫瑰的踪迹，所以我将一个人孤独坐着而我的心将碎成一地。
”“这儿，实际上，是真正的情人，”夜莺说道。
确定了爱情是最美妙的事情。
这比绿宝石和蛋白石更为珍贵。
“音乐家们将坐在回廊里，”年轻学生说道，“他们演奏着弦乐，然后我爱的人将跟随着竖琴与小提琴的美妙声音翩翩起舞。
然而她将不会与我共舞，因为我没有红玫瑰能赠予她，”他突然扑到在草地上，然后将脸埋入手中，轻轻哭泣起来。
“他为什么在哭泣？”绿色蜥蜴一边拖着悬在空中的尾巴迅速跑过他的身边。
“为了什么呢，真正地？”那只在阳光下拍打着翅膀的蝴蝶说道。
“为了什么呢，真正地？”雏菊向邻居说着悄悄话，用一种轻柔低沉的嗓音。
“他为了一朵红玫瑰而哭泣。
”夜莺回答道。
“为了一朵红玫瑰？”他们喊道，“荒谬极了!”那只小蜥蜴，有那么点儿愤世嫉俗，立即笑出了声来。
但是夜莺明白学生悲伤的秘密，她静坐在树上，思索着关于爱的谜团。
突然她展开棕色的翅膀，然后向空中飞去。
她像影子一样地穿过树丛，掠过花园。
在小草坪的中心屹立着一棵漂亮的玫瑰树。
当夜莺看到那棵玫瑰树时，她向它飞去。
“请给我一朵红玫瑰吧，”她说道，“我将回报给你我最甜美的歌声。
王尔德童话之《夜莺与玫瑰》王尔德童话之《夜莺与玫瑰》“我的玫瑰是白色的，”它回答说，“白得就像大海的浪花沫，白得超过山顶上的积雪。
但你可以去找我那长在古日晷器旁的兄弟，或许他能满足你的需要。
”于是夜莺就朝那棵生长在古日晷器旁的玫瑰树飞去了。
“给我一朵红玫瑰，”她大声说，“我会为你唱我最甜美的歌。
”可是树儿摇了摇头。
“我的玫瑰是黄色的，”它回答说，“黄得就像坐在琥珀宝座上的美人鱼的头发，黄得超过拿著镰刀的割草人来之前在草地上盛开的水仙花。
但你可以去找我那长在学生窗下的兄弟，或许他能满足你的需要。
”于是夜莺就朝那棵生长在学生窗下的玫瑰树飞去了。
“给我一朵红玫瑰，”她大声说，“我会为你唱我最甜美的歌。
”可是树儿摇了摇头。
“我的玫瑰是红色的，”它回答说，“红得就像鸽子的脚，红得超过在海洋洞穴中飘动的珊瑚大扇。
但是冬天已经冻僵了我的血管，霜雪已经摧残了我的花蕾，风暴已经吹折了我的枝叶，今年我不会再有玫瑰花了。
”“我只要一朵玫瑰花，”夜莺大声叫道，“只要一朵红玫瑰!难道就没有办法让我得到它吗?”“有一个办法，”树回答说，“但就是太可怕了，我都不敢对你说。
”“告诉我，”夜莺说，“我不怕。
”“如果你想要一朵红玫瑰，”树儿说，“你就必须借助月光用音乐来造出它，并且要用你胸中的鲜血来染红它。
你一定要用你的胸膛顶住我的一根刺来唱歌。
你要为我唱上整整一夜，那根刺一定要穿透你的胸膛，你的鲜血一定要流进我的血管，并变成我的血。
”“拿死亡来换一朵玫瑰，这代价实在很高，”夜莺大声叫道，“生命对每一个人都是非常宝贵的。
坐在绿树上看太阳驾驶著她的金马车，看月亮开著她的珍珠马车，是一件愉快的事情。
山楂散发出香味，躲藏在山谷中的风铃草以及盛开在山头的石南花也是香的。
然而爱情胜过生命，再说鸟的心怎麽比得过人的心呢?”于是她便张开自己棕色的翅膀朝天空中飞去了。
她像影子似的飞过花园，又像影子似的穿越了小树林。
年轻的学生仍躺在草地上，跟她离开时的情景一样，他那双美丽的.眼睛还挂著泪水。
The Nighti ngale And The RoseOscarWilde"She said that she woulddancewith me if I brough t her red roses," criedthe youngStuden t, "but in all my garden thereis no red rose."From her nest in the oak tree（栎树） the Nighti ngale heardhim, and she looked out throug h the leaves and wonder ed."No red rose in all my garden!" he cried,and his beauti ful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happin ess depend! I have read all that the wise men have writte n, and all the secret s of philos ophyare mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretch ed."（不幸的、悲惨的）"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nighti ngale. "Nightafternighthave I sung of him, though I knew him not: nightafternighthave I told his storyto the starsand now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacin th(风信子)-- blosso m, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passio n has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.""The Prince givesa ball to-morrow night," murmur ed the youngstuden t, "and my love will be of the compan y. If I bringher a red rose she will dancewith me till dawn. If I bringher a red rose, I should hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my should er, and her hand will be claspe d in mine. But thereis no red rose in my garden, so I shallsit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heartwill break.""Here, indeed, is the true lover," said the Nighti ngale. "What I sing of, he suffer s: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely love is a wonder ful thing. It is more precio us than emeral ds（绿宝石）, and dearer than fine opals（猫眼石） . Pearls and pomegr anate s（石榴石） cannot buy it, nor is it set forthin the market-place. It may not be purcha sed of the mercha nts, nor can it be weighe d out in the balanc e for gold.""The musici ans will sit in theirgaller y," said the youngStuden t, "and play upon theirstring ed instru ments, and my love will danceto the soundof the harp and the violin. She will danceso lightl y that her feet will not touchthe floor, and the courti ers in theirgay dresse s will throng roundher. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her:" and he flunghimsel f down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept."Why is he weepin g?" askeda little GreenLizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air."Why, indeed?" said a Butter fly, who was flutte ringaboutaftera sunbea m."Why, indeed?" whispe red a Daisyto his neighb our, in a soft, low voice."He is weepin g for a red rose," said the Nighti ngale."For a red rose?" they cried: "how very ridicu lous!" and the little Lizard, who was someth ing of a cynic, laughe d outrig ht.But the Nighti ngale unders toodthe secret of the Studen t’ssorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and though t aboutthe myster y of Love.Sudden ly she spread her brownwingsfor flight, and soared into the air. She passed throug h the grovelike a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.In the center of the grass-plot was standi ng a beauti ful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweete st song."But the Tree shookits head."My rosesare white," it answer ed; "as whiteas the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mounta in. But go to my brothe r who growsroundthe old sun-dial（日规） , and perhap s he will give you what you want."So the Nighti ngale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growin g roundthe old sun-dial."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweete st song."But the Tree shookits head."My rosesare yellow," it answer ed; "as yellow as the hair of the mermai den（美人鱼） who sits upon an amberthrone, and yellow er than the daffod il that blooms in the meadow（割草机）before the mowercomeswith his scythe. But go to my brothe r who growsbeneat h the Studen t’swindow, and perhap s he will give you what you want."So the Nighti ngale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growin g beneat h the Studen t’swindow."Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweete st song."But the Tree shookits head."My rosesare red," it answer ed, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the greatfans of coralthat wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chille d my veins, and the frosthas nipped my buds, and the stormhas broken my branch es, and I shallhave no rosesat all this year.""One red rose is all I want," criedthe Nighti ngale, "only one red rose! Is thereno way by whichI can get it?""Thereis a way," answer ed the Tree; "but it is so terrib le that I dare not tell it to you.""Tell it to me," said the Nighti ngale, "I am not afraid.""If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must buildit out of musicby moonli ght, and stain（染色） it with your own heart’sblood. You must sing to me with your breast agains t a thorn. All nightlong you must sing to me, and the thornmust pierce（刺穿）your heart,and your life-bloodmust flow into my veins（静脉）, and become mine.""Deathis a greatpriceto pay for a red rose," criedthe Nighti ngale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasa nt to sit in the greenwood, and to watchthe Sun in his chario t of gold, and the Moon in her chario t of pearl. Sweetis the scentof the hawtho rn, and sweetare the bluebe lls that hide in the valley, and the heathe r that blowson the hill. Yet love is better than Life, and what is the heartof a bird compar ed to the heartof a man?"So she spread her brownwingsfor flight, and soared into the air. She sweptover the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed throug h the grove.The youngStuden t was stilllyingon the grass, whereshe had left him, and the tearswere not yet dry in his beauti ful eyes."Be happy," criedthe Nighti ngale, "be happy; you shallhave your red rose. I will buildit out of musicby moonli ght, and stainit with my own heart’sblood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiserthan Philos ophy, though he is wise, and mighti er than Power,though he is mighty. Flame-colour ed are his wings,and colour ed like flameis his body. His lips are sweetas honey, and his breath is like franki ncens e."The Studen t looked up from the grass, and listen ed, but he couldnot unders tandwhat the Nighti ngale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are writte n down in books.But the Oak-tree unders tood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nighti ngale, who had builther nest in his branch es."Sing me one last song," he whispe red; "I shallfeel lonely when you are gone."So the Nighti ngale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voicewas like waterbubbli ng from a silver jar.When she had finish ed her song, the Studen t got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket."She has form," he said to himsel f, as he walked away throug h the grove—"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feelin g? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artist s; she is all stylewithou t any sincer ity. She wouldnot sacrif ice hersel f for others. She thinks merely of music, and everyb ody knowsthat the arts are selfis h. Still, it must be admitt ed that she has some beauti ful notesin her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anythi ng, or do any practi cal good!" And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and beganto thinkof his love; and, aftera time, he fell asleep.And when the moon shonein the heaven s the Nighti ngale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast agains t the thorn. All nightlong she sang, with her breast agains t the thorn, and the cold crysta l Moon leaned down and listen ed. All nightlong she sang, and the thornwent deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-bloodebbedaway（逐渐消失）from her.She sang firstof the birthof love in the heartof a boy and a girl. And on the topmos t sprayof the Rose-tree thereblosso med a marvel ous rose, petalfollow ing petal, as song follow ed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangsover the river—pale as the feet of the mornin g, and silver as the wingsof 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 blosso med on the topmos t sprayof the Tree.But the Tree criedto the Nighti ngale to presscloser agains t the thorn. "Presscloser, little Nighti ngale," criedthe Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finish ed."So the Nighti ngale presse d closer agains t the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birthof passio n in the soul of a man and a maid.And a delica te flushof pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flushin the face of the brideg roomwhen he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thornhad not yet reache d her heart, so the rose’sheartremain ed white, for only a Nighti ngale’sheart’sbloodcan crimso n the heartof a rose.And the Tree criedto the Nighti ngale to presscloser agains t the thorn. "Presscloser, little Nighti ngale," criedthe Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finish ed."So the Nighti ngale presse d closer agains t the thorn,and the thorntouche d her heart,and a fierce pang of pain shot throug h her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfec ted by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.And the marvel ous rose became crimso n , like the rose of the easter n sky. Crimso n was the girdle of petals, and crimso n as a ruby was the heart.But the Nighti ngale’voicegrew fainte r（虚弱的）, and her little wingsbeganto beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainte r and fainte r grew her song, and she felt someth ing chokin g her in her throat.Then she gave one last burstof music. The whiteMoon heardit, and she forgot the dawn, and linger ed on（停留在…） in the sky. The red rose heardit, and it trembl ed all over with ecstas y （狂喜）, and opened its petals to the cold mornin g air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleepi ng shephe rds from theirdreams. It floate d throug h the reedsof the river, and they carrie d its messag e to the sea."Look, look!" criedthe Tree, "the rose is finish ed now;" but the Nighti ngale made no answer, for she was lyingdead in the long grass, with the thornin her heart.And at noon the Studen t opened his window and looked out."Why, what a wonder ful pieceof luck!" He cried; "here is a red rose! I have neverseen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beauti ful that I am sure it has a long Latinname;" and he leaned down and plucke d it.Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Profes sor’shousewith the rose in his hand.The daught er of the Profes sor was sittin g in the doorwa y windin g blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lyingat her feet."You said that you woulddancewith me if I brough t you a red rose," criedthe Studen t. "Here is the reddes t rose in all the world.You will wear it to-nightnext your heart,and as we dancetogeth er it will tell you how I love you."But he girl frowne d（皱眉）."I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answer ed; "and, beside s, the Chambe rlain’snephew had sent me some real jewels, and everyb ody knowsthat jewels cost far more than flower s.""Well, upon my word, you are very ungrat eful," said the Studen t angril y; and he threwthe rose onto he street, whereit fell into the gutter（排水沟）, and a cartwh eel went over it."Ungrat eful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, afterall, who are you? Only a Studen t. Why, I dont believ e you have even got silver buckle s to your shoesas the Chambe rlain’snephew has;" and she got up from her chairand went into the house."What a sillythingLove is!" said the Studen t as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not proveanythi ng, and it is always tellin g one of things that are not goingto happen, and making one believ e things that are not true. In fact, it is quiteunprac tical, and, as in this age to be practi cal is everyt hing, I shallgo back to Philos ophyand studyMetaph ysics ."So he return ed to his room and pulled out a greatdustybook, and beganto read.The Selfis h Giantby OscarWildeEveryaftern oon, as they were coming from school, the childr en used to go and play in the giant's garden.It was a largelovely garden, with soft greengrass. Here and therewere twelve peach-treesthat in the spring-time brokeout into delica te blosso ms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birdssat on the treesand sang so sweetl y that the childr en used to stop theirgamesin orderto listen to them. "How happywe are!" they criedto each other.One day the giantcame back. He had been to visithis friend the Cornis h ogre, and had stayed with him for sevenyears. Afterthe sevenyearswere over he had said all that he had to say, for his conver satio n was limite d, and he determ inedto return to his own castle. When he arrive d he saw the childr en playin g in the garden."What are you doinghere?" he criedin a very gruffvoice, and the childr en ran away."My own garden is my own garden," said the giant; "any one can unders tandthat, and I will allownobody to play in it but myself." So he builta high wall around it, and put up a notice-board"Trespa ssers will be prosec uted."He was a very selfis h giant.The poor childr en had now nowher e to play. They triedto play on the road, but the road was very dustyand full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander roundthe high wallswhen theirlesson s were over, and talk aboutthe beauti ful garden inside. "How happywe were there!" they said to each other.Then the spring came, and all over the countr y therewere little blosso ms and little birds. Only in the garden of the selfis h giantit was stillwinter. The birdsdid not care to sing in it as therewere no childr en, and the treesforgot to blosso m. Once a beauti ful little flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw that notice-boardit was so sorryfor the childr en that it slippe d back into the ground again,and went off to sleep. The only people who were please d were the snow and the frost. "Spring has forgot ten this garden," they cried, "so we will live here all the year round." The snow covere d up the grasswith her greatwhitecloak,and the frostpainte d all the treessilver. Then they invite d the northwind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrappe d in furs, and he roared all day aboutthe garden, and blew the chimne y-pots down. "This is a deligh tfulspot," he said, "we must ask the hail to visit." So the hail came. Everyday for threehourshe rattle d on the roof of the castle till he brokemost of the slates, and then he ran roundand roundthe garden as fast as he couldgo. He was dresse d in gray, and his breath was like ice."I cannot unders tandwhy the spring is so late in coming," said the selfis h giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold, whitegarden; "I hope therewill be a change in the weathe r."But spring nevercame, nor the summer. The autumn gave golden fruitto everygarden, but to the giant's garden she gave none. "He is too selfis h," she said. So it was always winter there, and the northwind and the hail and the frostand the snow danced aboutthroug h the trees.One mornin g the giantwas lyingawakein bed when he heardsome lovely music. It sounde d so sweetto his ears that he though t it must be the king's musici ans passin g by. It was really only a little linnet singin g outsid e his window, but it was so long sincehe had hearda bird sing in hisgarden that it seemed to him to be the most beauti ful musicin the world. Then the hail stoppe d dancin g over his head, and the northwind ceased roarin g and a delici ous perfum e came to him throug h the open caseme nt. "I believ e spring has come at last," said the giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.What did he see?He saw a most wonder ful sight. Throug h a little hole in the wall the childr en had creptin, and they were sittin g in the branch es of the trees. In everytree that he couldsee therewas a little child. And the treeswere so glad to have the childr en back againthat they had covere d themse lveswith blosso ms, and were waving theirarms gently abovethe childr en's heads. The birdswere flying aboutand twitte ringwith deligh t, and the flower s were lookin g up throug h the greengrassand laughi ng. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was stillwinter. It was the farthe st corner of the garden, and in it was standi ng a little boy. He was so smallthat he couldnot reachup to the branch es of the tree, and he was wander ing all roundit, crying bitter ly. The poor tree was stillcovere d with frostand snow, and the northwind was blowin g and roarin g aboveit. "Climbup! little boy," said the tree, and it bent its branch es down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.And the giant's heartmelted as he looked out. "How selfis h I have been!" he said; "now I know why spring wouldnot come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knockdown the wall, and my garden shallbe the childr en's playgr oundfor ever and ever." He was really very sorryfor what he had done.So he creptdownst airsand opened the frontdoor quitesoftly, and went out into the garden. But when the childr en saw him they were so fright enedthat they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run for his eyes were so full of tearsthat he did not see the giantcoming. And the giantstoleup behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree brokeout at once into blosso m, and the birdscame and sang on it, and the little boy stretc hed out his two arms and flungthem around the giant's neck, and kissed him. And the otherchildr en, when they saw that the giantwas not wicked any longer, came runnin g back, and with them came the spring. "It is your garden now, little childr en," said the giant, and he took a greataxe and knocke d down the wall. And when the people were goingto the market at twelve o'clockthey foundthe giantplayin g with the childr en in the most beauti ful garden they had ever seen.All day long they played, and in the evenin g they came to the giantto say good-bye."But whereis your little compan ion?" he said: "the boy I put into the tree." The giantlovedhim the best becaus e he had kissed him, and had not been afraid."We don't know," answer ed the childr en; "he has gone away.""You must tell him to be sure to come tomorr ow," said the giant. But the childr en said that they did not know wherehe lived, and had neverseen him before; and the giantfelt very sad.Everyaftern oon, when school was over, the childr en came and played with the giant. But the little boy whom the giantlovedwas neverseen again. The giantwas very kind to all the childr en, yet he longed for his firstlittle friend. "How I wouldlike to see him!" he used to say.Yearswent by, and the giantgrew very old and feeble. He couldnot play aboutany more, so he sat in a huge arm chairand watche d the childr en at theirgames, and admire d his garden. "I have many beauti ful flower s," he said, "but the childr en are the most beauti ful of all."One winter mornin g he looked out of his window as he was dressi ng. He did not hate the winter now, for he knew that it was merely the spring asleep, and that the flower s were restin g.Sudden ly he rubbed his eyes in wonder and looked and looked. In the farthe st corner of the garden was a tree quitecovere d with lovely whiteblosso ms. Its branch es were golden, and silver fruithung down from them, and undern eathit stoodthe little boy he had loved.Downst airsran the giantin greatjoy, and out into the garden. He hasten ed across the grass, and came near to the child. And said, "Who has daredto woundyou?" For on the palmsof the child's handswere the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nailswere on the little feet."Who has daredto woundyou?" criedthe giant; tell me, that I may take my big swordand kill him."No," answer ed the child; "for theseare the wounds of love.""Who are you?" said the giant, and a strang e awe fell on him, and he kneltbefore the little child.And the childsmiled on the giant, and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden, todayyou shallcome with me to my garden, whichis paradi se."And when the childr en ran in that aftern oon, they foundthe giantlyingdead underthe tree, all covere d with whiteblosse ms.。
目录夜莺与玫瑰幸福王子忠实的朋友驰名的火箭少年王星孩儿巨人的花园YEYINGYUMEIGUI“她说只要我为她采得一朵红玫瑰，便与我跳舞。
”青年学生哭着说，“但我的花园里何曾有一朵红玫瑰？”橡树上的夜莺在巢中听见了，从叶丛里往外望，心中诧异。
“我的园子中并没有红玫瑰。
”青年学生的秀眼里满含泪水，“唉，难道幸福就寄托在这些小东西上面吗？古圣贤书我已读完，哲学的玄奥我已领悟，然而就因为缺少一朵红玫瑰，生活就让我如此难堪吗？”“这才是真正的有情人。
”夜莺叹道，“以前我虽然不曾与他交流，但我却夜夜为他歌唱，夜夜将他的一切故事告诉星辰。
如今我见着他了，他的头发黑如风信子花，嘴唇犹如他想要的玫瑰一样艳红，但是感情的折磨使他的脸色苍白如象牙，忧伤的痕迹也已悄悄爬上他的眉梢。
”青年学生又低声自语：“王子在明天的晚宴上会跳舞，我的爱人也会去那里。
我若为她采得红玫瑰，她就会和我一直跳舞到天明。
我若为她采得红玫瑰，将有机会把她抱在怀里。
她的头，在我肩上枕着；她的手，在我掌心中握着。
但花园里没有红玫瑰，我只能寂寞地望着她，看着她从我身旁擦肩而过，她不理睬我，我的心将要粉碎了。
”“这的确是一个真正的有情人。
”夜莺又说，“我所歌唱的，正是他的痛苦；我所快乐的，正是他的悲伤。
‘爱’果然是非常奇妙的东西，比翡翠还珍重，比玛瑙更宝贵。
珍珠、宝石买不到它，黄金买不到它，因为它不是在市场上出售的，也不是商人贩卖的东西。
”青年学生说：“乐师将在舞会上弹弄丝竹，我那爱人也将随着弦琴的音乐声翩翩起舞，神采飞扬，风华绝代，莲步都不曾着地似的。
穿着华服的少年公子都艳羡地围着她，但她不跟我跳舞，因为我没有为她采得红玫瑰。
”他扑倒在草地里，双手掩着脸哭泣。
“他为什么哭泣呀？”绿色的小壁虎竖起尾巴从他身前跑过。
蝴蝶正追着阳光飞舞，也问道：“是呀，他为什么哭泣呢？”金盏花也向她的邻居低声探问：“是呀，他到底为什么哭泣？”夜莺说：“他在为一朵红玫瑰哭泣。
夜莺与玫瑰“她说过只要我送给她一些红玫瑰，她就情愿与我跳舞，”一位年青的学生大年夜声说道，“但是在我的花圃里，连一朵红玫瑰也没有。
”这番话给在圣栎树上本身巢中的夜莺听见了，她从绿叶丛中探出头来，四处观望着。
“我的花圃里哪儿都找不到红玫瑰，”他哭着说，一双漂亮的眼睛充斥了泪水。
“唉，难道幸福竟依附于这么微小的器械！我读过智者们写的所有文章，常识的一切隐秘也都装在我的脑筋中，然而就因缺乏一朵红玫瑰我却要过苦楚的生活。
”“这儿总算有一位真正的恋人了，”夜莺对本身说，“因此我不熟悉他，但我会每夜每夜地为他唱歌，我还会每夜每夜地把他的故事讲给星星听。
现在我总算看见他了，他的头发黑得像风信子花，他的嘴唇就像他想要的玫瑰那样红；然则情感的熬煎使他表情惨白如象牙，悲伤的印迹也爬上了他的眉梢。
”“王子改日晚上要开舞会，”年青学生喃喃自语地说，“我所爱的人将要前去。
假如我送她一朵红玫瑰，她就会同我跳舞到天明；假如我送她一朵红玫瑰，我就能搂着她的腰，她也会把头靠在我的肩上，她的手将捏在我的手内心。
但是我的花圃里却没有红玫瑰，我只能孤单单地坐在那边，看着她从身旁经由。
她可不能留意到我，我的心会碎的。
”“这切实事实上是位真正的恋人，”夜莺说，“我所为之唱歌的恰是他遭受的苦楚，我所为之欢乐的器械，对他倒是苦楚。
爱情真是一件奥妙无比的工作，它比绿宝石更名贵，比猫眼石更稀奇。
用珍宝和石榴都换不来，是市场上买不到的，是从商人那儿购不来的，更无法用黄金来称出它的重量。
”“乐工们会坐在他们的廊厅中，”年青的学生说，“弹奏起他们的弦乐器。
我心爱的人将在竖琴和小提琴的音乐声中翩翩起舞。
她跳得那么轻松轻巧，连脚跟都不蹭地板似的。
那些身着华丽服装的臣仆们将她围在中心。
然而她确实是可不能同我跳舞，因为我没有红色的玫瑰献给她。
”因此他扑倒在草地上，双手捂着脸放声痛哭起来。
“他什么缘故哭呢？”一条绿色的小蜥蜴高高地翘起尾巴从他身旁跑过时，如许问道。
