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When she had finished her song, the Student got up.
等她的歌声一停，那个学生便从草地上站了起来。
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove. "That cannot be denied. But has she got feeling? I'm afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists: she is all style without any sincerity." And he went to his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, fell asleep.
“她的样子真好看，”他自言自语道，说着就走开了。“那是不能否认的。但是她有情感吗？ 我想她恐怕没有。事实上，她就跟大多数艺术家一样，只讲究形式，没有什么诚意可言。”他走进房间，躺在床上，不一会儿就进入了梦乡。
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 into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
当月亮升上了天空时，夜莺朝那棵红玫瑰树飞去并用胸膛顶住了刺。她就这样唱了整整一夜，连冰凉如水晶的月亮也俯下身来倾听。整整一夜，她唱个不停，刺在她的胸口上越扎越深，她体内的鲜血也快要流光了。
She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.
她先歌唱男孩和女孩心中的爱意初萌。玫瑰树顶端的枝头上开出了一朵奇妙的玫瑰花，歌儿唱了一首又一首，花瓣也一片接一片地绽开了。
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to pierce closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."
然而这时树儿大声地叫，让夜莺把剌顶得再紧一些。“顶得紧点，小夜鸾，”树大叫道，“要不然玫瑰花还未完成，天就要亮了。”
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.
于是夜莺把刺顶得更紧了，她的歌声也越来越响亮了，因为她歌唱着一对成年男女内心诞生的激情。
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.
一抹淡淡的红晕爬上了玫瑰花瓣，就跟新郎亲吻新娘时脸上泛起的红晕一样。
