The Nightingale and the Rose

One day, a nightingale in a tree heard a beautiful girl and a handsome young man talking in a garden.:

- I like you very much, young man. But I will only dance with at the Prince’s party tomorrow if you bring me a red rose.

- A red rose?- said the young man. – All right! I will find one.

The beautiful girl left the garden and the young man began to look for a rose. He started to look sad. The nightingale saw him and started to sing.

-This handsome young should not look so sad. I will sing a song to make him happy again.

The Nightingale sang a beautiful song while the young man looked in every corner of the garden. But he couldn’t find a red rose!

- All I want is one red rose! One red rose and my love will dance with me! Where, oh where can I find a red rose?

- Why is he crying?- asked a green lizard.

-Why is he said? – asked a daisy to the grass.

- He is crying for a red rose! – the Nightingale told the garden.

- For a red rose? – said the lizard. And he started to laugh.

The nightingale didn’t laugh. It wanted to help the young man. The nightingale liked to sing about love. It flew to a rose tree and said:

- Give me a red rose and I will sing for you.

But the tree said:

- My roses are white.

The nightingale flew to another rose tree.

-Give me a red rose and I wil sing for you!

- I’m sorry, little Nightingale – said the rose tree – My roses are yellow.

The Nightingale couldn’t find a red rose. It flew to the last rose tree in the garden.

- Give me a red rose and I will sing for you – it said.

- I’m sorry, Nightingale. My roses are red, but the wiintwr was very cold, and now I don’t have any.

The Nightingale was very sad:

-I only want one red rose. Help me, please!

The rose tree said:

- I know how to get a red rose, but it is a very sad way. […] You must sing a beautiful song. You must press yourself on to one of my thorns. You must sing all night. Your blood will make one red rose grow.

[…]That night, when the moon was up, the Nightingale flew to the rose tree. It pressed itself against a thorn and began to sing.

As the Nightingale sang, a white rose grew. […] So the Nightingale pressed harder on to the thorn. It sang even more beautifully. Soon, the white rose turned pink.

- Press harder! Come closer! – said the rose tree.

- Only the blood from your heart can make the rose red.

[…]And the pink rose turned red! A beautiful red! The Nightingale sang more quietly. Its eyes closed. And it fell to the ground.

In the morning, the young man came into the garden. He saw the red rose.

- Wonderful! A red rose! – he said – Now my love will dance with me! – he picked the red rose and ran out of the garden.

The young man gave the red rose to the beautiful girl.

- Here is a red rose. The most beautiful rose in the world! Please wear it on your dress tonight. I want to dance with you” – he said.

[…] – I don’t want a red rose anymore! – she said. – Another young man brought me some jewels. I will dance with him at the Prince’s party.

Then, she threw the red rose away and left.

-Why was I so stupid? – said the young man – A rose is nothing! Love is nothing!

He stepped on the rose and walked away. And neither the beautiful girl not the young man knew how the Nightingale gave its life for one red rose.

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