Счастливый принц и другие сказки
The Nightingale and the Rose
Bitter,bitterwasthepain,andwilderandwildergrewhersong,forshesangoftheLovethatisperfectedbyDeath,oftheLovethatdiesnotinthetomb.
Andthemarvellousrosebecamecrimson,liketheroseoftheeasternsky.Crimsonwasthegirdleofpetals,andcrimsonasarubywastheheart.
ButtheNightingale’svoicegrewfainter,andherlittlewingsbegantobeat,andafilmcameoverhereyes.Fainterandfaintergrewhersong,andshefeltsomethingchokingherinherthroat.
Thenshegaveonelastburstofmusic.ThewhiteMoonheardit,andsheforgotthedawn,andlingeredoninthesky.Theredroseheardit,andittrembledalloverwithecstasy,andopeneditspetalstothecoldmorningair.Echoboreittoherpurplecaverninthehills,andwokethesleepingshepherdsfromtheirdreams.Itfloatedthroughthereedsoftheriver,andtheycarrieditsmessagetothesea.
"Look,look!"criedtheTree,"theroseisfinishednow;"buttheNightingalemadenoanswer,forshewaslyingdeadinthelonggrass,withthethorninherheart.
AndatnoontheStudentopenedhiswindowandlookedout.
"Why,whatawonderfulpieceofluck!"hecried;"hereisaredrose!Ihaveneverseenanyroselikeitinallmylife.ItissobeautifulthatIamsureithasalongLatinname;"andheleaneddownandpluckedit.
Thenheputonhishat,andranuptotheProfessor’shousewiththeroseinhishand.
ThedaughteroftheProfessorwassittinginthedoorwaywindingbluesilkonareel,andherlittledogwaslyingatherfeet
