(Abridged  by V.R. Ssrinivasan)

[Senior idists may please correct my translation]

"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose." 

From her nest in the  tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered. "No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, Hiss beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all the secrets of philosophy, Yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."
"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. 

 

"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. . But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the 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 centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it.  "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head. "My roses are white." it answered; "  But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, 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. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head.

 "My roses are yellow." it answered. ""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. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head. "My roses are red," it answered, " But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."



"One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?" 

"There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you." 

"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid." 

"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of 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 my veins, and become mine."


 "Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all.  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.





 "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be 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."

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.

He got up and  walked away through the grove.
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 top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day 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. 

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose. And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished." 

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. And the marvellous rose became crimson.



But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat. Then she gave one last burst of music. 

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart. 

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out. "Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it. Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand. 



The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet. "You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you." 

But the girl frowned. "I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers." 

"You are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it. 

"What a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy ." So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.

-THE END-

"Un reda rozo esas omno quan me volas." kriis la Naktigalo, nur un reda rozo!  Ka ne esas irga  voyo ke  me povas  aquirar ol?"

"Esas un voyo," respondis la Arboro," ma ol esas tante teroriganta ke me ne dicas ol a vu:"

"Dicez ol a me," decis la Nightingale, " Me ne esas  pavora"

"Se vu volas reda rozo," decis la Arboro, "vu mustas konstuctar ol ek muziko dum lun-lumo, ed tintar ol per sua propra sango di kordio.Vu mustas kantar a me kun vua pektoro apud dorno.  Dum tota nokto vu mustas kantar a me e la dorno mustas penetrar vua kordio ed vua viv-sango mustas fluar aden mea veini ed divenar mea."



"Morto esas granda preco por pagar pro reda rozo," kriis la Naktigaloe, " ed Vivo esas tre karo ad  omna.  Ankore Amor esas plu bona kam Vivo, ed quo esas la kordio di ucelo kande on komparas ol ad kordio da homulo?"

Do elu extensis sua bruna ali por flugado e asencis aden aero.  Elu flugis super la gardeno quale ombro e quale ombro  elu segl-iris  tra la bosko. La yuna Studento ankore esis kushanta sur la herbo kande elu livesis ilu e la lakrimi esis ne sika en ilua bela okuli.


"Esez felica," kriis la Nightingale, "esez felica. vu ya  havos vua reda rozo. Me konstruktos ol ek mea sango dum lun-lumo, ed tintos ol per mea propra sango di kordio. Omno me demandas de vu esas  ke vu esos vere amoro."


La Studento regardis supre de la herbo ed askoltis, ma ilu ne povis  komprenar  quon la Nightingale esas dicanta ad  ilu nam il ur savis  la kozi quin esas skribinta en libri.

Ilu levis su ed for-marchis tra la bosko.  Ed ilu eniris sua chammbro, e kushis su sur sua mikra lito,  ed pensisis pri sua vivo, ed, pos kelka tempo dormeskis.

(Duros)

Ed kande la Luno  brilis en la cieli la Naktigalo  flugis a la Roz-arboro and pozis sua  pektoro apud la dorno. Dum tota nokto elu kantis kun sua pektoro apud la dorno  ed la kolda kristala Luno inklinis infre ed askoltis. Dum tota nokto elu kantis e dorno eniris plu profunda ed plu profunda aden sua pektoro ed sua viv-sango for-refluxis de elu.  Elu unesma kantis pri la  nasko di amoro en la kordio di yunulo e yunino.  Ed sur la  maxim supra sproso floifis marveloza rozo, petalo sequanta petalo kom kanto sequis kanto.   Esis pala, unesme.

Ma la Arboro kriiis al Naktigalo por presar plu proxima apud la dorno..  "Presez plu proxima mikra Nightingale," kriis la Arboro, :" O la Dio venos ante la rozo esas finisata." Do la Naktigalo presis plu proxima apud la dorno, e plu lauta e plu lauta divenis elua kansono nam elu kantis la nasko di amoro en la  anmo di viro e damzelo.

(Duros)

Ed delikata roz-koloro venis aden la folii di la rozo, quale la koloro ye la vizajo di la fiancitulo kande elu kisas la labii di la fiancitino.  Ma la dorno ne ankore esis atingita elua kordio, do la kordio di rozo restis blanka nam nur sango di kordio di Naktigalo povas facar la kordio di rozo reda.  Ed la Arboro kriis al Naktigalo por presar plu proxima apud la dorno.   "Presez plu proxima mikra Nightingale," kriis la Arboro, :" O la Dio venos ante la rozo esas finisata." 


Do la Naktigalo presis (su) plu proxima apud la dorno, e la dorno tushis elua kordio e feroca kordio-doloro propagis tra elu.  Ed la marveloza rozo divenis reda.

(Duros)

Ma la voco divenis plu febla ed elua mikra ali bateskis, ed membrano venis sur la okuli.  Plu febla e plu febla divenis elua kansono ed elu sentis ulo sufokanta en sua guturo.  Lore elu donis un lasta erupto di muziko. 

"Videz, videz!" kriis la Arboro, "la rozo esas finita  nun", ma la Naktigalo ne respondis nam elu esis kushanta (su) sen-vivo sur la herbo, kun dorno en sua kordio.

Ed ye dimezo la Studento apertis sua fenestro e vidis extere. "Marveloza fortuno!" he kriis, " yen reda rozo! Me ne esas vidinta irga rozo quale ol en mea tota vivo.  Esas tante bela ke me esas certa ol havas longa Latina nomo," e ilu inklinis infre e koliis ol.  Pose ilu metis sua chapelo e iris a la domo di Profesoro kun rozo en sua manuo.

(Duros)

La filiino di Profesoro esis sidanta en la pordo-voyo spulanta blua silko, ye spulilo e sua mikra hundo esis kushanta (su) an elua pedi.  "Vu decis ke vu dancus kun me se me portas a vu reda rozo," kriis la Studento.  " Hike esas la maxim reda rozo en tota mondo.  Vu matis ol canokto  apud vua kordio, e kom ni dancis kune ol dicos ke quante me amas vu."

Ma la yuniino frunsas la brovi.  " Me pensas ke ol ne   parigos mea vestaro." elu respondis.  "ed,  pluse nevulo di la Chamberlain esas sendinta a me kelka vere  juveli, ed omni savas ke juveli kostas plu kam flori."

(Duros)

"Vu esas tre des-gratitudoza," dicis la Studento irace e ilu jetis la rozo aden la strado kande ol falis aden la pluv-kanaleto e vetur-roto iris sur ol.

"Qua stulta kozo esas AMORO," dicis la Studento kom il formarchis.  "Facte, esas tote des-praktikala e kom en ca epoko  on mustas esar praktikala me retro-iros a Filozofio."  Do ilu retro-venis a sua chambro ed ek-tiris granda polvoza libro and lekteskis.

LA FINO