konnichiwa ppl´z
well this is one of my favorite stories of my favorit writter in all the world
Oscar Wilde.
this is
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE
"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 holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and
she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes
filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness
depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all
the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is
my life made wretched."
"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after
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-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."
"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young
Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red
rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose,
I shall 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."
"Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I
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, and
dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor
is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the
merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."
"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student,
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