In the garden, where the roses grow, a little butterfly is flying around. It´s really pretty, and it flaps its wings up´n down as if it wanted to sing with them while flying around in the garden. But no people can really remember what it actually has to do there. But now you´ll hear what the roses told me!
Once upon a time, the butterfly wasn´t a butterfly at all. It was an ordinary bird, actually a nightingale - and it sang so beautifull, like when a mother sings a cradle song for her baby. It happened one day, that the nightingale was sitting at an open window and warbled along. It peaked by accident inside the room, and there was sitting a mother with her child in there, and she sang with such a marvellous voice, that the nightingale got jealous!
It flew into her, where it sat on her shoulder, and how the little nightingale exerted itself to sing prettier than her! So much that it at the end lost its voice! It was so terrible for the little nighingale. It had lost its own voice because it had envied anothers.
But the mother felt so very sorry for the little nightingale, it was so sad for it, that it had lost its only beauty, and she stroked it slowly over the feathers, and her fingers drew new patterns on its wings. She cried over what the little nightingale had lost, and some of the tears fell down on its wings, and they became the spots the butterfly has today. Then she kissed it gently on its bill, as if she wanted to comfort it - but the nightingale was so ashamed, that it became smaller and smaller until it was the size of the butterfly we know today.
Then it flew out the window, and to the roses where it told its story. I´ll tell you, plants and animals can speak together! And since then it has been a butterfly because it can only show the colours of the summers, not sing about them. That´s what the roses say anyways, you can just go out and ask´em!
