夜莺：皇帝的御花园与生命之歌

In these peaceful woods lived a tiny, plain brown nightingale. Every night, the little bird sang with such sublime sweetness that travelers from distant kingdoms came from afar just to listen. Fishermen, resting from their heavy nets under the moonlight, would pause in wonder, whispering to one another, 'How breathtakingly beautiful is the song of the nightingale!'

Scholars wrote thick books about the magnificence of the emperor's grand palace and gardens, but every author declared that the little nightingale was the greatest wonder of all. One afternoon, the emperor sat upon his golden throne reading a newly presented book from a foreign land. When he read the words praising the nightingale, he gasped in astonishment. 'What is this?' he exclaimed. 'A nightingale in my own imperial forest, and I have never once heard it?'

The emperor summoned his chief lord of the palace and commanded, 'Find this wondrous nightingale and bring it before the throne tonight! If it is not here, the entire court shall be severely punished.'

The worried courtier searched through every corridor, library, and grand hall, but no one in the palace had ever heard of the bird. Finally, in the imperial kitchen, a poor kitchen maid looked up from washing dishes. 'Oh, I know the nightingale well!' she smiled. 'Every evening, when I carry leftover food home to my sick mother, I rest in the forest and listen to its heavenly song.'

The maid led the grand courtiers deep into the forest. As a cow mooed in a distant meadow, the courtier cried, 'Ah! What a powerful voice!' But the maid laughed and said, 'No, that is only a cow.' Next, frogs croaked in the marsh, and the courtiers marveled again. At last, from high in the green branches of an oak tree, the little brown nightingale began to sing.

'Is that truly the famous bird?' whispered the courtier in disappointment. 'It looks so ordinary and plain!' But the little maid called upward, 'Little nightingale, our gracious emperor desires you to sing before him at the imperial court tonight.' The bird replied gladly, 'My song sounds sweetest among the green leaves, but I will come with joy.'

That evening, the imperial throne room was decorated with thousands of glowing paper lanterns. The tiny nightingale perched upon a small golden rod beside the throne. When the bird opened its throat, a melody of such pure emotion poured forth that tears welled up in the emperor's eyes and rolled down his imperial cheeks.

Deeply moved, the emperor declared that the nightingale should remain at court forever, dwelling in a golden cage with twelve silk ribbons attached to its delicate legs. Although praised and honored by all the courtiers, the little bird longed for the boundless freedom of the forest breeze.

One morning, a large wooden parcel arrived from the Emperor of Japan. Inside lay a remarkable mechanical nightingale crafted entirely of pure gold, studded with sparkling diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When wound with a golden key, the artificial bird could sing one particular waltz with perfect precision, wagging its tail in time to the rhythm.

'How marvelous!' cried the courtiers. 'The mechanical bird never grows tired, its song is always predictable, and its jewels glitter in the light!' The court musician praised the clockwork bird endlessly, declaring its artificial tune superior to the unpredictable music of nature.

While everyone admired the dazzling golden toy, the real nightingale quietly flew out through the open window and returned to the green canopy of the forest. When the emperor discovered its departure, he was offended and banished the real bird from the empire forever.

For five long years, the mechanical bird was celebrated as the greatest treasure of the imperial court. But one fateful evening, as the emperor listened in bed, something went click inside the mechanism! Springs snapped, gears whirred frantically, and the golden music ceased entirely. The imperial clockmaker examined the machine and announced that the delicate brass wheels were worn out; it could only be played once a year to prevent total ruin.

Years passed, and a profound sorrow fell over the empire. The old emperor became gravely ill, and the physicians shook their heads in despair. Alone in his cold, shadowy bedchamber, the emperor lay pale and weak upon his velvet bed.

Sitting upon the foot of the imperial bed was the dark figure of Death, wearing the emperor's golden crown and holding the imperial saber. From the heavy fabric of the curtains, strange, whispering faces peered down—the emperor's good and evil deeds, murmuring memories of a lifetime. 'Do you remember this?' they whispered softly. 'Music!' the emperor cried in anguish. 'Great golden bird, sing for me! Drive away these shadows!' But the mechanical bird sat silent on its golden cushion, for there was no one to wind its key.

Suddenly, from the open window, a melody of transcendent beauty drifted into the chamber. Perched on a branch outside was the little brown nightingale! Having heard of the emperor's illness, the faithful bird had returned to bring him comfort and hope.

The nightingale sang of the peaceful churchyard where white roses bloom, where the grass is moist with dew, and where silence reigns supreme. The music was so divine that Death himself paused, listened with longing, and softly vanished like a cold morning mist. Color returned to the emperor's pale cheeks, and his heart beat strong once again.

'Thank you, heavenly little bird,' whispered the emperor with tears of gratitude. 'I banished you from my court, yet you have sung away the shadows of Death.' The nightingale replied softly, 'I have seen tears of true feeling in your eyes, and those are the greatest jewels a singer could ever receive. Keep your mechanical toy for your court, but permit me to visit when I wish, to sing of the sorrow and the joy of the world, of the rich and the poor.' The next morning, when the courtiers entered expecting to mourn, the healthy emperor stood tall in his golden robes, greeting the dawn with a renewed spirit of love and wisdom.