the nightingale and the roses
Autor: Clube de Ciberjornalismo CMCG 2016 | Publicado: 2015-09-05T07:44:00-07:00


CTI presents

The Nightingale and the Rose
by Oscar Wilde

(free script adaptation by teacher Myrian Napp, in 2010)

In the center of the stage, NOT alone, white lights only on him, there's a student, who's being seen by a nightingale and by an old holm-oak tree. There are also some butterflies, lizzards and daisies observing.
Track sounds: grumblings and &nbsp;bird song

The Student (crying): She said that she would dance with me if I bring her a rose, a red rose … but … in ALL MY GARDEN THERE ARE NO RED ROSESS! &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;:(o

(Green Lights on the nightingale)
The Nightingale (surprised) : I wonder what is going on?!!!

The Student (crying): No red roses in all my garden . (There are tears in his eyes - há lágrimas nos seus olhos).
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; On what little things does happiness depend?
I've read [réd] all that wise man have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine but now my life depends of a red rose … (o estudante não nota a presença do rouxinol - the student doesn‘t notice the bird)


The Nightingale (surprised and excited): Here, at last, is a true lover!! Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night I’ve told his story to the stars, and now I can see him. Look at him: his hair is dark and his lips are red; but passion has made his face pale!

The student: The Prince is giving a ball tomorrow night 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 will hold her in my arms and she will lean her head upon my shoulder … but there is no red rose in all my garden … so I shall sit lonely and she will pass me by … she'll have no heed of me, and my heart will break!

The nightingale: Here indeed is the true lover [olha com olhar de quem achou algo que procurava há muito tempo, mão no queixo, expressão de razão]
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; What I sing of, he suffers! What is joy to me, for him is pain!? Surely love is a wonderful thing!! It is more precious than emeralds!!!... and clearer!!! than fine opals!!! Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it!!! Love ... The true Love, cannot be purchased of the Merchant!!!

The student: The musicians will sit in their gallery and they will play their stringed instruments, and my Love [ &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; ]will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor ... But with me she will not dance ’cause I have no red rose to give her. (He buried his face in his hands - ele esconde o rosto com as mãos)

A Litlle Green Lizard : Why is he weepping?
The Butterfly Who flutters after a sumbeam: Why, indeed?
The Daisy whispering in a soft low voice: Why indeed?
The Nightingale: He is weeping for a red rose.
All together: For a red rose? How very ridiculous? [They laugh loudly and cynic]
[sounds of wings fluttering]
The nightingale understood the secret of the student’s sorrow and it sat silently in the oak-tree and thought about the mistery of love.
Suddenly it spreads its brown wings for flight and soared into the air. It passes through the grove like a xador, and like a xador it sailed across the garden.
[sounds and slides of images of wings fluttering]
In the center of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful rose-tree, and it saw the rose, it flew over the flower.
The Nightingale: Give me a red rose and I will give you my sweetest song!!
The red-roses shook their heads and said: Our roses are not red, we are white roses!! As &nbsp;white as the foam of the sea ... and whiter than the snow upon the mountain ... but, go ... go to our sisters who grow round the old sun-dial!!
The nightingale flew over another rose-tree and said: Give me a red rose and I will give you my sweetest song!
The rose-tree shook their heads: My roses are yellow ... as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden ... And yellower than the daffodils. But go to our sisters who grows beneath the student’s windows and perhaps they will give you what you want!!
The nightingale flew over to the next rose-tree that was hgrwing Binet the student’s Windows.
The nightingale: Give me a red rose and I will sing you my sweetest song!
The rose-trees shook their heads and said: Our roses are red!! &nbsp;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 I shall have no red-roses at all this year!!
The Student: One red rose is all I want! Only one red rose!! Is there a way by which I can get it?
The Rose-tree: There is a way. But it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.
The student: Tell it to me. I am not afraid.
The Rose-tree: If you want a red rose you must build it out of music by moonlight and stain it with your own heart’s blood. You must sing it to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me your best song and thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins and become mine.
The Nightingale crying: Death a great price to pay for a red rose and life ir 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. Yet Love is better than Life , and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?
(O rouxinol voa e desaparece no ar. Depois &nbsp;volta e sobrevoa os canteiros do jardim para verificar as cores das rosas)
(O aluno ainda está na sua escrivaninha, com seus livros e papéis de desenho, limpa suas lágrimas e percebe o rouxinol porém não o compreende)
The Nightingale: Don’t worry ... Be happy! You shall have your red rose! The Oak-tree intercedes: od. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be &nbsp;a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy ...
(O aluno olha para o rouxinol sem entender que o pássaro está preocupado com o amor)
The Nightingale sings
I can understand you, my dear nightingale!!

Darkness

The student enters, takes a pencil and a paper and starts drawing the girl. He talks to himself. - She has form that cannot be denied to her, but has she got feelings? I am afraid not ... She is like most artists, she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for other. She thinks merely of music and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. I must admit she has a good voice ... &nbsp;(continue drawing and sleeps).
The moon shone in the heavens and the nightingale flew to the rose-tree. There he/she sat her breast against the thorn and all night long he/she sang his/her sweetest song.
The cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. The Nightingale and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her/his breast and her life-Bloom ebbed away from her.
The Rose-tree: Press closer, litlle Nightingale, or the day will come before the &nbsp;rose &nbsp;is finished.
(So, the nightingae pressed closer anf closer and his/herr song became weaker and weaker.)
(Bitter and bitter was its pain, wilder and wilder was its song.)
The Nightingale: It is for the love I die, for the true love. (The bird throws the perfect red-rose near the student.)
The student opened the windows and saw the red rose: “What a luck guy I am! Here is a red rose! I have never seen any like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure that ... &nbsp;it has a long latin name!
Then the student put the rose on his coat and ran to the professor’s house. The daughter of the professor was sitting on the door way.
The student had the flower at hand and cries: You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose?
The girl (frowned) : “I am afraid it will not go with my dress, and, besides, the son of the general sent me some real jewels ... And everybody knobs jewel costs more than flowers!
The student, angrily: Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful.
The girl: Ungreatful!? I’ll tell you what! He hás a beautiful car!
The student &nbsp;throws away the rose and asks himself: Is Love wiser than Philosophy?!