A Story
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 tomorrow 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 ญญ 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, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. 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.
"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.
"For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-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, and lit upon a spray.
"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; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. 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; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. 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, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. 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. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. 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, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."
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.
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.
"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.
When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.
"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove ญญ "that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good." 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, as the mist that hangs over the river ญญ pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.
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. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.
And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
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. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.
"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 tonight 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."
"Well, upon my word, 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.
"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.
"What I a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics."
So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
song
right click save target as here
right. *denying* you din see me online. its a ghostly visitation :P
hiatus
oh yeah if you desperately wanna see my face or you will die hahaha you can catch me in the sch lib starting monday. should be there the whole week. *fact or fiction? BOth!* please hope that the God of Mugging will be with me!
anyway today was fun :)
navel gazing
so i washed brushed dressed and put on my contacts. i think i can almost be a scientist already, the way i carefully scrutinise my lens for any speck of dust. haha and i take bloody long to make sure its clean. ah, i'll be late again as usual.. and i'll have to take the main gate. then suddenly my curtains billowed and flapped about like nobody's business.
of course the rain followed after that. big huge precipitation somemore. but i decided to brave the storm for the sake of ting. so i went out with all the flyaway lil mists about the sheltered walkway. realised that i forgot to bring a plastic bag for my dripping umbrella later so i went to the mama shop to get one at the pretense of buying some tidbit.
i forgot to bring my wallet.
that's it, the last straw. i do have ten bux in my pocket but there's no ez link and i have to get to tuition after that. so what the hell, my mind as furious as the raging storm, i went home.
i mean, go to sch for 1 hr before going to tuition again? in the storm? my shoes will be soaked. haha so i turntailed and went up to my cosy warm room again. ahh glad i did. so i'm now waiting to go to tuition. yipee.
SI and OC tonight! can't wait!
out of pt but haha tis a pink flower! so nice.
wo men jiang hua yu
just saw xiaxue on a episode of Get Rea! its quite funny to see her "in the flesh" after reading so much of her. wonder why is she that she can achieve such phenomenal success with her blog while mine just sits in a corner of the vast cyberspace. is it the vulgar language? the life experience? the humour? ah wells i'm content with what i have here though.
i realised that i've been spending so much time going out and hitting town and stuff. just at the time when i'm not supposed to be doing exactly that. it is really quite scary. shit. 2 wks 1 day to GP.
hammer game
simplicity is underrated
anyway i'm still in that stage of denial whereby farewell still seems far far away (though the As looked horribly close). i refuse to say my goodbyes and do dedications and thank you's now. afterall we still have to go back for consultation, mugging together, going into the examination as a class, and the prom! right? farewell then, to the classroom atmosphere as we sit in our rows with the humming fan and greenery outside the window. i'll really miss classrooms.
so after that assembly thingy we sat around Oasis and drank from the exposed water table. haha naah. Oasis is a place for studying, strong winds and a sanctuary for some peace and quiet. i did some maths and jerry pretended to study. after that we went town.
always looked forward to this part
we decided to watch Wimbledon (which daniel keeps pronouncing as Wimble-ton). before that we had some time to kill so we walked around and somehow landed in Borders, like all NJ students should. haha there i was like daring everyone else to speak in mandarin till the end of the day. surprisingly they did well. haha and i tot my cheena was not bad. it hurts actually, feels kinda tongue-tied after a while. it was hilarious la. i mean.. jerry and daniel? jerry with chinese children songs? haha. we should do it more often so that i can brush up on my chinese and go china next time. now its sort of like the "mute chinese" that i read on the papers. gosh. i din realise how bad i was.
anyway back to Wimbledon. good romance film, especially liked the tennis matches with the sound tweaking etc. and i absolutely adore the brit accent. its so nice! hahah and i love their sense of humour too. aiyaarh i wanna go live in the uk. kirsten dunst and that guy was quite convincing as lovebirds too. heh and that guy had a good body though he's a tad too old too gush over.
oh and thy showed Pearl Harbour again. its one of my top fav. movies of all time, for some reason. haha not to mention cos of ben affleck and josh! oh gosH! nice :D
oh yeah in case u din realise i updated the photo albums. namely "ao1rist" and "frens" as well as "midautumn". check em out.
life is short
so instead of filling you out with "Days of Our Lives" (going by how dynamics have changed drastically) i shall just slot in some non-sequiturs.
Victoria's Secret Fashion Show is absolutely fantabulous. gosh models should have a class in the homosapien species classification all by themselves. how do they grow such legs? such butts? such facial structures?
another quirky thought- what if someday humans do not have an appetite anymore, but just eat to survive? think futuristic space age. for example a plate of cabonara is no different from boiled pasta. this way there will be no overeating so that world hunger will be abolished. and humans will become healthier. even better, we can just pop pills to supply us with the daily recommended intake of nutrients. we will become ultra efficient, no lunch breaks no dinner no supper no medical leave. what will it be like then? reminds me of Huxley's Brave New World. but its a possiblity right? scary.
i miss nj band. i really really really miss band. going back to play today just brought back a string of memories. the atmosphere.. the combined effort, the coming together of different parts to create something wonderful. i know i can join bands later in life but somehow it will not be the same. the camaderie, the friendships and going through stuff together. i'm so glad i chose to stick by band even after 8 years of playing because nj band has given me so much more.
anyway this is the period when pple start writing long entries on their blog on reflecting their jc life. i just have to say that i've never regretted coming to nj and have spent the best 2 years of my life ever. thank you.
Most frequently spoken word on the Planet:
1. OK Still the most popular word in languages around the world. "OK" originated in a joke in the 1830's, spelled "oll korrekt" in Boston newspapers, the joke being, both words were incorrect. It became so popular, that it was soon abbreviated to simply "O. K." Despite its popularity, the word would have fallen by the wayside had not Martin van Buren, called "Old Kinderhook" for being born in Kinderhook, N.Y. used it in his presidential reelection campaign of 1840. So don't "misunderestimate" the impact of presidential usage on the growth of our vocabulary. It is also spelled "okay".
exhilaration
hahaha on a super high now. whenever i get high i just can't stop talking. can't wait for school tmr, it will be super fun. haha when i'm in this state The Very Lame Stuff pours forth non-stop. haha so we had a very very funny dinner. part of our conversation goes like this:
zq: "you r damn corny!" (referring to a previous lame comment i made.)
me: "noO~! should be chocolatey!" (referring to the sinful irish cream mudpie we are guzzling)
-cringing by zq-
me: "nono! its cheesy!" (referring to the baked rice covered with mozarrella we had for main course) *bright grin*
-zq collapses in half laughter half pain-
right. haha and i'm honoured to be the first person to be splashed by a glass of water (melodramatic splashing cue) by zq. haha yeah like oooh...cool water running down into my shoe-oooh. totally maxed out our usage of the service (tax v.ex u noe!) oh man. must be the chocolate. it has endorphins you know. oh no i feel like a three yr old because i feel like using triple exclamations to depict my feelings. Yippeee!!!
of course u need a complete picture to this eventful day. so you hop on to our shared blog to read about the sordid details. ahhaha. *hides*
hahaha dunno what's wrong with me. gosh. i feel so relaxed and contented and smiley and _______(inserted positive adjective here). lol. lit today was hilarious too. aww i'm gonna miss my lit teachers. my geog teachers. my math teacher. my GP teacher. my classmates. band. nj.
but hey. today is a shizzle-dizzle-fizzle-dizzley day! smile and spread the love! (wats up wif me i keep coming up wif corny phrases. hahaha). ok. haha. tata~!
purple prose (sometimes!)
"..that all Art being to a certain degree a mode of acting, an attempt to realise one's own personality on some imaginative plane out of reach of the trammelling accidents and limitations of real life.."
oscar wilde. fantastic stories.
i do it. you do?
be somebody
haha the letter that they sent was very amusing. quite kia-su don't you think? they don't even wanna let off girls now. the envelope was super funny too. haha. it must cost quite a lot.
anyway i still haven't done anything related to the A-levels. cept doodle around and fiddle with my notes. i have a weird habit of punching holes into my notes and arranging them neatly into files everytime i try to study. so i end up feeling accomplished- w/o studying.
can you imagine? its..officially 3 weeks and 3 days to the A-level GP paper. that's.. 24 days left.
historical inevitability
check out hammieeater for a summary of what we did yesterday. its quite fun, i must say. quite a studious day for i went to sch from 8-10.40 for lit s, then 10.45 to 11.30 in the library, then 12 at scotts. after lunch (i had some spinach stuffed pasta that tastes unique) we went to the orchard library (i borrowed oscar wilde's short stories!) then around kino to absorb the energy in that expensive bookstore, then to the esplanade library. i think its quite nice to study there on weekdays. met huifang, yunqi and simin there too! haha. we must go back there again!
and David Yeo is ousted from Singapore Idol! imagine my disbelief when my sis told me that over sms (cos i was on my way home). i thought it was one of her jokes but no, it was a cruel but true! (and i rhyme.) sigh i just can't believe the irritating tenacity in which that stupid jerry ong has. why is he still in?!? he can't sing for nuts, he is "hilarious" on stage with his exaggerated facial expressions and his hair is in tufts! maan :(
anyway, its a happy day so go out and play!