夜莺与玫瑰读完之后的感受
《夜莺与玫瑰》讲述的是一个美丽而忧伤的故事：一个年轻人非常想同自己心爱的人一起跳舞，而她曾经答应过，只要他送她一朵红蔷薇，她就会同他跳舞。
于是年轻人四处寻找。
可是找遍了整个花园也没找到一朵，他心碎地哭了。
夜莺知道了学生的烦恼，决心帮助学生。
她用自己的胸脯抵着蔷薇刺，在月光下唱歌。
蔷薇刺着她的心，她的歌声越来越高昂，最后蔷薇被她的血染红，而夜莺也死在高高的青草丛中。
当年轻人发现那朵由夜莺心血染红的蔷薇，便拿着它送给他心爱的人。
可是她却不再欣赏。
而是更愿意跟送她珠宝的上校好。
年轻人由失望、痛苦至愤怒，将蔷薇丢进了路沟，一个车轮碾过了美丽的花......学生不再相信爱情。
一个残酷的童话，由洁净清新的语言表现出来，让人感受到的是，对人生，对世界的思考以及由思考带来的淡淡的忧伤。
“我到底找到一个忠诚的情人，每夜我都在歌唱忠贞的爱情，可是我从来没有见过忠诚的情人。
每夜我对星星讲述忠贞的爱情故事——现在我终于看到了一个忠诚的情人!”“我只求你做一件事，就是要你做一个忠诚的情人。
”夜莺把胸脯抵在蔷薇树的一根刺上为树唱一夜的歌，这根刺将刺穿她的心，她生命的血也一定要流进树的身体变成树的血。
这样痛苦的牺牲，换来一朵比鲜血还要红的蔷薇，可是她却义无反顾地靠了上去。
只因为她相信爱情比生命更可贵，比博学更聪明，比权利更强大。
所以她无悔。
可是，那朵蔷薇最终的结局，却是少女的一句“它和我的衣服不相配，上校已经送给我很多漂亮珠宝，我要去和他跳舞，谁都知道，宝石比花更值钱”。
于是它被扔到了路沟，被车轮碾过。
整个故事里，相信爱情的也许自始至终都只有夜莺一个。
她坚信，最可贵的爱情是忠诚的。
她之所以愿意为了帮助年轻人而付出自己的生命，是因为她希望且相信年轻人对爱情忠诚。
“不管哲学是怎样的聪明，爱情却比她更聪明，不管权力怎样的伟大，爱情却比它更伟大”。
正因为这时间忠诚的爱情太可贵了，夜莺才愿意献出她的生命换来一份忠诚的爱情。
就这样，她的生命就这样被年轻人的轻浮浪费了。
这似乎在这个故事中是必然的。
因为人类并不把爱情当一回事，而是更在乎实际。
而爱情，被他们看成是“无聊的事情”。
而正是因为这样结局的必然性，才更显得可悲。
人们心中对美好事物的向往与追求在实际利益前，更显得如此渺校甚至人们内心深处本来存有的一丝春节也在现实的压迫下被消磨殆荆 这个忧伤的故事，是为了唤醒人们对美好事物的追求;这个残酷的故事，是为了向人们揭示当时社会人与人之间出利益的关系的冰冷无情;这个美丽的故事，是为了歌颂为了心中的信仰而甘愿付出一切包括生命的无私精神。
这样一个童话，用两个极端拼出和-谐的完美，给人震撼，引人深思。
篇二：夜莺与玫瑰读后感 这个小故事说了在冬天的一天，一位王子要举行一个盛大的宴会，他要把一朵玫瑰花送给他心目中最漂亮的一位女孩。
因为这是一个冬天，没有盛开的玫瑰花，他很伤心，便坐在地上哭了起来，路边所有的行人都说他傻，可是有一只夜莺满怀深情的体谅了他，决定去找到一朵红玫瑰。
那只夜莺找来找去都没找到，就在它绝望的时候看到了一束玫瑰，于是问到：“你能给我一朵玫瑰吗
”“可以，不过现在是冬天，你可以用你心脏里的血给我，还要大声唱歌。
”小夜莺一下子就答应了。
当那朵花变红了时，那只夜莺以死去。
王子来到这里，不觉为之一震，看到了那朵玫瑰花，他高兴极了，连忙把它带回去。
就在王子送花时，那个女孩却把花打掉了，说：“花算什么，我喜欢珠宝，花随处可见，但珠宝就不是了。
”这时一辆马车路过，花又从车底下压过去了。
夜莺以为看到了世界上最真挚的爱情，不惜牺牲自己的生命，忍受巨大的痛苦来帮助他，满足他的须要，却不知最终自己用生命换来的玫瑰花被人随意的丢弃了。
如何评价王尔德的《夜莺与玫瑰》
王尔德生活在19世纪的维多利亚时代，工业革命正在英国如火如荼地进行。
整个社会发生了前所未有的剧变，物欲横流金钱至上，“唯利是图”之风弥漫了大不列颠的各个角落。
自19世纪初资本主义制度在西欧确立后的数十年间，给社会心理造成了巨大影响。
人们的世界观、价值观发生了很大的变化。
在那种社会里资产阶级抹去了所有一切最被尊崇的职业上面的神圣光彩。
它把医生、律师、牧师、诗人和学者变成了它拿钱雇佣的仆役”。
王尔德面对当时社会的拜金主义风气、市侩哲学和虚伪的道德，在童话《夜莺与玫瑰》中描绘了一个虚构的故事．以此来揭示了英国资本主义社会中人与人之间赤裸裸的金钱关系和由此产生的种种丑恶现追求心灵的唯美世界，以艺术之美来对抗庸俗的社会现实。
意象美 在这篇童话里，王尔德通过四组意象，活灵活现地描述了自己的爱情观、褒扬了执着追求真爱的人，鞭挞了不懂爱情的俗人。
第一组意象是蝴蝶、蜴蜥、小雏菊，他们代表了不知爱情为何物的一群人。
第二组意象是一些可视可感知美的事物，有橡树，宝石、花园、大海、音乐、月光、草地、竖琴，日晷等。
第三组是青年学生和教授的女儿，他们代表了那些世俗的持爱情无用论的人。
青年学生太过现实，教授的女儿太过拜金，谁送的东西贵重，谁就代表爱情，她心中的爱情是宝石，而不是用鲜血和生命换来的红玫瑰。
所有的这一切都是为了衬托第组组意象红玫瑰和夜莺。
语言美 王尔德是位语言大师，“他最擅长用形象、精炼、富于色彩、音响、动感的语言。
‘笼天地于形内，挫万物于笔端’，在有限的篇幅里尽其所能勾勒出栩栩如生的艺术形象。
”夜莺与玫瑰》体现了童话作品的语言特色：“三段式”的反复使用，修辞手段的多次运用，色彩艳丽的词汇随处可见，贯穿全文的生动传神的描写。
（一）反复运用典型的“三段式” “三段式结构让故事在变与不变中求得平衡。
变的是故事中的人物、对象、方式等，不变的是一个最简单基本的故事框架。
”[5]运用三段原则的民间故事大抵由三个相同的片段组成，每个片段的结构大致一样。
王尔德对爱尔兰民间故事非常痴迷，他的童话故事的创作深受民间故事的影响。
在《夜莺与玫瑰》中，王尔德反复运用民间故事常用的三段原则。
当夜莺深情讲述青年学生为爱伤心绝望的事情时，出现了三个不懂爱情的人物：蜥蜴、雏菊和蝴蝶。
夜莺为了帮青年学生寻找红玫瑰，去了三个地方：日晷旁、草地中央、学生的窗台下。
找到了三种玫瑰：白玫瑰、黄玫瑰和因严寒不能开花的红玫瑰。
为了得到一朵娇艳无比的红玫瑰，夜莺为玫瑰树唱了三次歌，第一次，树枝上出现了一朵美妙的玫瑰花，第二次，花瓣变成了淡红色，第三次，花瓣和花心变成了深红色，鲜艳如红宝石般光彩夺目。
（二）妙用比喻，令人深思 文中大量比喻和拟人的运用使作品主题深刻，描述生动形象。
正如美国文学评论家Robert Keith Miller所说：“王尔德的作品要比咋看起来负责的多。
作者通过看似内容简单的童话《夜莺与玫瑰》揭露也鞭挞了当时维多利亚时代的丑恶社会现实，讽刺了那些庸人，过于务实和理性、蜥蜴的自负、蝴蝶的随波逐流、雏菊的不学无术、愚昧无知、头脑空虚，青年学生的过于务实和不解浪漫，教授女儿的拜金主义、对爱情的无视无不是作者抨击的对象。
这些人认为既没有真正的爱情，也没有至高无山的美和艺术。
通过一篇小小的童话，作者批判了当时社会“金钱万能论”[6 ]138的功利主义思想。
深刻地揭露、鞭挞了“唯名唯利”的丑恶的社会现实。
（三）用色彩艳丽的词汇营造美的氛围 颜色是思想的载体。
《夜莺与玫瑰》中充满了色彩艳丽的词汇，彰显了王尔德的唯美主义思想。
文中描写色彩绚丽的宝石的“绿宝石（emerald）、蛋白石、红珊瑚(red fans of coral)、红宝石等”，描写动植物的“棕色的翅膀(brown wings)、白色的浪花(white foam of the sea)，美人鱼般的黄头发(yellow hair of memaiden)、红色的鸽子脚(red feet of the dove) ”描写自然景观的“水晶般的冷月(cold crystal moon)”。
还有青丝（blue silk）、紫洞(purple cavern)，银罐子(silver jar)、红晕(pink flush)等。
[7]100-104大量的色彩词在文中的交替出现，令读者如临其境，从头至尾享受着美的盛宴。
（四）反复的运用 作者在文中一再地运用反复的修辞手法，既起到了强调的作用，又符合孩子语言的特点。
当青年学生因为找不到红玫瑰而痛苦时，一只绿蜥蜴问道：“他为什么哭
”一只蝴蝶扇动着翅膀也好奇地问：“是呀，为什么
”一只雏菊也悄声问：“是呀，为什么
”，作者连用三个为什么凸显了蜥蜴、蝴蝶和雏菊对爱情的无知。
每当夜莺去寻找红玫瑰时，作者都用了相同的句式和词汇“夜莺展开双翅，飞向蓝天，象影子一样飞过了花园，又象影子一样飞过了小树林。
”突出了夜莺的执着和勇敢。
如何看待王尔德的《夜莺与玫瑰》
林徽因的翻译有比较浓厚的时代特征，通俗易懂，而且特别简洁正因为这点对比后面几篇的翻译行文过于流畅，让人忍不住产生了怀疑【这都是林徽因翻的么
】。
我是比较喜欢这个译本的。
夜莺与玫瑰英文原文
NIGHTINGALE AND ROSE She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses, cried young Student, but in all my garden there is red rose. From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard , and she looked out through the leaves and wondered. red rose in all my garden! he cried, and beautiful eyes filled with tears. Ah, on what tle 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 (没有) of a red rose is my made wretched. Here at last is a true lover, said the Nightingale. Night after night have I sung of , though I knew t: night after night have I told story to the stars and now I see him. 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 (舞会) to-morrow 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 should 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: what is 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 market-place. 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 tle 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 (愤世嫉俗者), 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 center 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 (一种玫瑰), 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 (美人鱼) who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil (黄水仙) that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window (一种玫瑰), 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 (摧残) 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 me 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 (战车) 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 (哲学), 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 homey, 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 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 had form, her said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—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 topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river—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 marvelous rose became crimson (猩红), like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby (红宝石) was the heart. But the Nightingale’ 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 not 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 to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you. But he girl frowned. I am afraid it will not go with my dress, she answered; and, besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew had 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 onto he street, where it fell into the gutter (阴沟), and a cartwheel 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 dont 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 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 (玄学). So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
求王尔德著，苏福忠和巴金翻译的《夜莺与玫瑰》全文电子版
尔德和其他的这个玫瑰讲述了一个动人的故事我把这个动人故事放在我的生活当中去的话我觉得这是很好的
