(单词翻译:单击)
She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.
她穿过那花园如同影子一般，她荡出了那树林子。
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.
那青年仍旧僵卧在草地上方才她离去的地方，他那付秀眼里的泪珠还没有干。
"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose.
夜莺喊道，“高兴吧，快乐吧；你将要采到你那朵红玫瑰了。
I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood.
我将用月下的歌音制成她。
All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy,
我向你所求的报酬，仅是要你做一个真挚的情人，
Though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty.
因为哲理虽智，爱比她更慧，权力虽雄，爱比她更伟。
Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body.
焰光的色彩是爱的双翅，烈火的颜色是爱的躯干。
His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."
她又如蜜的口唇，若兰的吐气。”
The Student looked up from the grass, and listened,
青年从草里抬头侧耳静听，但是他不懂夜莺对他所说的话，
but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him,
因他只晓得书上所讲的一切。
for he only knew the things that are written down in books.
那橡树却是懂得，他觉得悲伤，因为他极爱怜那枝上结巢的小夜莺。
But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
他轻声说道：“唱一首最后的歌给我听罢，
"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."
你离去后，我要感到无限的寂寥了。”
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
于是夜莺为橡树歌唱，她恋别的音调就像在银瓶里涌溢的水浪一般的清越。
When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.
她唱罢时，那青年站起身来从衣袋里抽出一本日记薄和一支笔
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—
他一面走出那树林，一面自语道：
"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not.
“那夜莺的确有些姿态。这是人所不能否认的；但是她有感情么？我怕没有。
In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others.
实在她就像许多美术家一般，尽是仪式，没有诚心。她必不肯为人牺牲。
She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish.
她所想的无非是音乐，可是谁不知道艺术是为己的。
Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice.
虽然，我们总须承认她有醉人的歌喉。
What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good."
可惜那种歌音也是无意义，毫无实用。”
