Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
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
he
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
.