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But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.
但是刺还未到达她的心脏，所以玫瑰的心还是白的。
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."
这时树又大声叫夜莺顶得再紧一些。“顶得再紧点，小夜莺，”树高声喊着，“不然,玫瑰还未完成，天就要亮了。”
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.
于是夜莺把刺顶得更紧了，刺扎到了她的心脏，一阵剧烈的痛楚袭遍了她的全身。痛得越来越厉害，歌声也越来越激昂，因为她歌唱着因死亡而完美的爱情，歌唱着在坟墓中也不朽的爱情。
And the marvelous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
最后这朵绝妙的玫瑰变成了深红色，就像东方天际的玫瑰色。花瓣的外环是深红色的，花心更是红得好像一块红宝石。
But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
不过夜莺的歌声却越来越弱了，一层薄膜遮住了她的双眼。她的歌声变得更弱了，她觉得喉咙给什么东西堵住了。
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 trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals in the cold morning air.
这时她唱出了最后一曲。皎洁的月亮听着歌声，竟然忘记了黎明，只顾在天空中徘徊。那朵红玫瑰听到歌声，更是欣喜若狂地颤抖，在寒冷的早晨张开了所有的花瓣。
"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.
“看啊，快看！”树儿大声叫了起来，“玫瑰已经长好了。”可是夜莺没有回答，因为她已躺在长长的草丛中死去了，心口上还扎着那根刺。
