All the songs in the East sing the nightingale's love for roses. In the silent night when the stars are shining, the winged singer sang a love song for his fragrant flowers.
Smyrna is a seaport in western Turkey. ) Not far away, under a tall buttonwood, businessmen are driving a group of camels carrying things. This group of animals proudly raised their long necks and trudged on this sacred land. I saw a circle of rose trees in full bloom. Wild pigeons are flying among the tall branches. When the sun shines on them, their wings shine like pearls.
There is a flower on the rose tree fence, which is the most beautiful of all. The nightingale sang his sorrow for its love. But this rose didn't say a word, and there wasn't even a drop of dew on its leaves as a tear of sympathy. It just hangs branches in front of a few big stones.
"One of the greatest singers in the world is buried here!" Rose said. "I am fragrant on his grave; When the storm hit, my petals fell on it, and the singer of Iliad became the dust of this land, from which I sprouted and grew! I am a rose growing in Homer's grave. I am too sacred to bloom for an ordinary nightingale. "
So the nightingale sang until she died.
Camel drivers bring animals and slaves to carry things. His youngest son saw the dead bird. He buried the little singer in the grave of the great Homer. Roses tremble in the wind. Dusk is coming. The rose tightly combined with other petals and had a dream.
It dreamed of a beautiful sunny day. A group of foreigners-Franks-came to visit Homer's grave. There is a singer among these foreigners; He comes from the north, the hometown of Yunkuai and Northern Lights (note: Denmark, Norway and Sweden. )。 He picked this rose, put it in a book, and then took it to another part of the world-his distant motherland. The rose withered in sorrow and lay quietly in this little book. He opened the book at home and said, "This is a rose on Homer's tomb."
This is a dream of this flower. She woke up, trembling in the wind. So a dewdrop fell from her petals to the singer's grave. The sun is rising, the weather is getting warmer, and the roses are blooming more beautifully than before. She grew up in warm Asia. At this moment, footsteps sounded. The Franks that Ross saw in his dream came; Among these foreigners, there is a poet from the north: he picked this rose, kissed it on the fresh lips, and then took it to the hometown of clouds and northern lights.
The flower's body is like a mummy, and now it lies in his Iliad. As if in a dream, it heard him open the book and say, "This is a rose on Homer's tomb." ( 1842)
This is a prose poem, which is collected in the poet market. This is probably also written by Andersen according to his own travel experience. "A northern poet" in the article may be himself. That rose has its ups and downs, and poets sometimes have similar experiences in their lives. Therefore, only he can understand and love this rose best.