【原创·文/译文】
精灵和姑娘走在了一起。
这道风景的结合有如黄昏般明艳。他是一道新出的皎洁的月光，她像晚霞般浓艳奔放。她突然爱笑了，生命似乎有太多欢喜她曾经失去，她过去太冷，而如今，似乎她的大笑挽回了那些不该丢失的乐趣。而精灵的微笑是朦胧的。像一个浅浅的谜。
像一潭清清的水。玫瑰姑娘笑着在水中瞥望。只有他的纯净清冽，才能让她如此看清自己。那是一汪清澈见底的水。一汪浅浅的水。她迷住了水中那个恍恍惚惚的影子。那是一个柔软的世界。她含着笑，无可避免地向美丽的影子走去。那毕竟是一汪浅水！
纤指情不自禁地抚摸起水中的面庞……
爱情中的人不仅仅为情人而陶醉。
交织着不均匀的阳光的水底就在眼前……那些光丽晶体，莫不是久藏的珍宝向她呼唤？
清冽的水舔得她的手臂有些发痒。水温如三四月的春风般刚好。
她含笑，把脸凑上……水底的宝石唤起回忆中一个个熟悉的笑容，灿烂诱人……
精灵是一个浅浅的谜，一汪清冽的泉水。
人人都说玫瑰姑娘更美了。也许是爱情的滋润。
有一个许久以来恋着玫瑰姑娘的金龟子红着眼睛偷偷地瞅着这一切。精灵发现了他。这个丑陋卑微的小生物是嫉妒么？但他发红的眼睛是那样无力而无害，那种徒劳的嫉妒如同精灵自己对于翅膀的纹理，对于黑暗光明，对于生命的叛逆的抗议一样，唤起精灵的淡淡的忧伤和深深的同情。是泪水，而不仅仅是无奈的恨，哭红金龟子的双眼。
太美好的事物总会受到侵扰。尽管金龟子是善良的动物，精灵知道，他那无害的嫉妒也有可能是造成往后悲剧的原因。
玫瑰姑娘对此却全然不知。每个真正陷入爱情的女人似乎都如同少女般无知，因而才能找到少女方有的最为纯和真的快乐，是一种生命顶峰的极致。
诅咒是一道裂缝，美好的事物的悲的命运往往自此而始。是一条绳上的伤，是一个潜在的断点。
至少精灵是这么想的。否则，他无法解释玫瑰姑娘离开的原因。
她的确走了。
前一天晚上，她一如往常般美丽明艳，好像一朵盛开的鲜花，完全敞开了胸怀，吐纳快乐的馨香，接受和稀释尘埃。她一如往常一般光耀，笑脸是她最鲜艳的双颊的红晕。
她那极致的美，让金龟子默默流下了眼泪。
在精灵的怀里，在他们缠绵入睡之前，她笑着说她不小心落到了那汪浅浅的水里——水底的东西太美了，而且似乎近在咫尺……水是冷的，但溶解在水中的金色的阳光让她忘记了肌肤的刺痛，忘记身在何处，好像自己只是一朵沐浴在能够触摸的阳光中的花……
精灵在复述这些话的时候，金龟子的眼睛一直是红的——像以前一样。唯一不同的是，这一次它们都哭得肿了。精灵失神的目光掠过低着头、落着泪，捡一地落花瓣的金龟子的背，瞥向一个月亮渐渐升起，天空由红变紫的逝去的黄昏。
夜来临。
金龟子硬冷的地面和单身的孤单犹在，但他的玫瑰姑娘不在了。
像那第一朵花一样不在了……精灵记得。
……记得。
记得当初是温热的初夏的风拂过。空气中充盈着初放的芳草的馨香，生命的气息，好像狗尾巴丛般熙熙攘攘。精灵抬起头的时候，湛蓝的天被新生的团团的绿叶切割成碎碎的小块。他的眼睛在细碎的从叶缝间漏出的阳光中，如同秋水般一尘不染。
那一份纯洁、痴情的凝视，恰到好处的美，只是，迷惘这片多余的叶落下，他的眼神的水面微皱。
记得那天靠在肩上的女孩子突然离开了，那朵飘着阳光般金发的花，那个陪伴他度过冬的余冷和春的新暖的姑娘。
他独自沿着他们曾依偎着漫步而过的香径走过，蝉鸣初响，如同一道水面上的耀眼的反光，把夏天的光热返还。
夏的清凉中也透着燥热。树林和草丛都是浮躁的，春天疏密刚好的枝叶，如今拥拥攘攘，新枝旧叶，淌着汗液，把手臂往清凉的空气中伸长，贪婪地展开手指，好像要无尽地抓取。
他独自从新枝旧叶绝望的手指尖梢头走过。
阳光如时间如水，从新枝旧叶交叉祈祷的嶙峋的指节间漏过，一滴一滴地、如雪人的泪水般滴落，发出露珠闪光般清脆尖细的轻响。这种乐音的频率，只有精灵的耳才能捕捉得到、分辨得出。
他听到了……
土壤中落叶分解的声音……
千万颗蛹被剥不及待的生命撕裂的声音……
翅膀舒张的声音——激涌的体液如夏的洪水冲击着绵软无力的半透明色的经脉，好像被两枚无形的手指所俘，他敏感的双翅被灼热的能量烫伤，因而振颤起来，浊重的空气搅起漩涡，不是他的身体突然变得轻盈，而是由翅梢转到空气中的强大的力，让他的双腿腾空而起——这一瞬间的惊颤，不亚于悬崖边失足的惊心！……
垂直向上伸展的草叶仰起头对他呼喊。
阳光像她的手臂，柔软而温暖，温柔地抚摸着他的脊背和翅膀。
柔劲的风挤压着他的肺；前方的视野异常开阔，只有一根自由的缰绳在将他牵引……
只是……那个金发的女孩子，那个笑容如初春的阳光般明朗动人的纯洁的姑娘……
她是一个美丽的陷阱。眼底下生机勃勃的美景中，她的影像无端地浮现在他脑海之际，好像梦境初醒，他感到身体的重量，灵魂与肉体似乎同时失落，在毫无经验可循的气流中，他无助地滑落……无助地滑坠。
空中往下看时那片疯长的树丛就像绿油油的海绵。直到他坠入其中，枯黄的枝叶才显现眼前，还来不及让人喘息，它们贪婪地索取着的指尖就无情地割伤他的皮肤、面颊，妄图钩破他的翅膀。
他跌入一片死寂的幽林中。没有阳光——这雪人的泪滴早就被焦渴的枝叶吸干。
腐败的残叶潮湿绵软，每一步的触觉都像是不均匀的烂泥被涂在了脚底上。似有糜烂的酒的气味，那，不过是树叶死亡发出的气息，是死神莫测的笑容，在他的俘虏的耳边的轻语：“忘记了吧……忘记了吧……喝下这杯美酒。”
精灵颤抖着。恐惧已经来不及让他恐慌。
而让他真正恐慌的是昏暗中，眼前微弱的光明……淡淡的、金色的，初春阳光般的光晕……
啪嗒啪嗒，他的脚丫挣扎在那段咫尺之遥，然而成为他生命中最漫长的经历的路途之上……他的第一朵花，她落在一个环形的坑中，坑里面微弱的生命的光如深秋夜里蟋蟀的哀鸣，此起彼伏，然而她独特的颜色将他吸引。
他的心被她所牵引。
这是一个巨大的花冢。
他不知道她为什么会来到这里，这是他一辈子没有来得及问的问题。
他看到她凄凉而坦然的眼神，他的身体不由自主地向她的方向靠拢，那新生的力量在他的翅膀的经脉中涌动，他飞了起来，低低而飞快地滑过花冢，像一只矫健的蜻蜓。
空气的涡搅动起花冢中的遗体，有些已经完全消散为灰烬，有些徒剩半透明的花瓣表面的膜，其中的色彩和饱满的、散发气息的血肉已经顺着水气流淌而去。甚至有些被枯黄侵蚀的残存着一部分色彩的花瓣，在空气流中飞扬起来，有些如雨点般打到他的身上，他听到那些死去的花最后的呼啸，似乎是荒唐的大笑，也许死去的生命再也不懂得哭泣……
他抱起了陷落在花冢中唯一一朵尚生还的花——他的她。
他如同一只勇敢的蜻蜓，低低地穿过厚重的空气，紧紧搂着怀中的战利品，直往前方……他感到她同样紧紧地搂住他的颈，她的手臂早已变得冰凉，而此刻他的体温于她，似乎是生命的某种能源……直到穿过重重昏暗的树丛，直到夏的那种光明，出现在最后一片交织的枝叶之后，直到他听到，雪人的眼泪般的阳光从树缝隙滴落的声音，啪嗒、啪嗒……
他跌落在离光明仅几步的黑暗之中，精疲力竭。那可是重重的一摔，他感到翅膀受了伤……可这一摔，换了她，她可怎么经受得住？
精灵幸福地微笑了，他仰卧在粗糙的地面上，而她仍安全地在他温暖的怀里。
他的花靠在他胸前，颤抖着，啜泣着……他感到胸口湿了，是她的泪。
可她的嘴角明明微笑着，尽管她的眼里饱含泪花。
“我们再也不分开了，”他知道她的心意，尽管她没有说话。
那寂静的爱情再一次让他们紧紧相依，他深情地亲吻她丝滑的面颊，她是那么年轻，他怎能让无情的花冢将她夺去……
可是，当他的手抚过她金色的长发的时候，那绸缎粘了手……她战栗着，倒吸了几口气，眼里的坦然的绝望似乎向他诉说着最坏的消息——她早已接受的最坏的命运。
几丝，不，是一缕美丽的金发从他的手指尖飘然落地。
他们紧紧相依的身体不知不觉分开了。
精灵颤抖着，不敢正视她的眼睛。那缕落地的金发如尸体惨败的皮肤一样触目惊心。他感到，幽林带给他的、刚刚被他暂时忘记的恐惧此刻逐渐俘虏了他的身体和灵魂。
她的手指还轻靠着他的面颊。最后一触是他的唇，好像一个破碎的吻，最后她凄凉一笑，似乎一切尽在不言中，她匆匆消失在昏暗之中，他颤抖着飞向光明。
精灵第一次感到如此的空虚迷惘……那空洞的心灵，曾经装满的是幸福。
接着苦涩涌上心头。痛苦，也许是痛苦……也许……他说不出。总之……那是一段需要适应失去幸福的过程……让情感和理智一次次碰撞回忆和现实，然后在记忆上刻写，此刻幸福不在。
他笑着飞起来，飞向明亮温暖的阳光，他的笑声像残败的碎花瓣最后的呼告一样在空气的涡流中碰撞、回响……
And the elf was with Lady Rose now.
The combination of the two sceneries was as brilliant as the nightfall. He was the bright new moon, and she was gorgeous as the afterglow. She surprisingly found herself started to enjoy laughing – she had been far too cold in the past and had missed too much joy. But now, it seemed her laughter retrieved the unfortunately lost joy. But his smiles were misty. Like a swallow pond of myth.
Yes…just likes wallow limpid water. Lady Rose smiled and looked down into the water. Only his crystal-like transparency allowed her to look at herself so clearly. It was so pure that she could see through the underwater, the swallow and pure water. She was deeply captivated by the rippled reflection. It was a soft world inside. She couldn't help approaching the harmless beautiful reflection with smiles on her face…It was merely water anyway!
Her slim fingers couldn't help stroking the face in the reflection of water…
A woman in love was not only intoxicated by her lover.
The glittering under water world was right in front of her now…Weren't the shiny crystals underneath, and treasures hidden long ago, calling her, asking her to take them away?
Cool water was licking her arms, a bit itchy. The temperature of the water was pleasant as the breeze in March or April, when spring arrived.
Her face approached nearer to the water…the jewels underneath reminded her of many familiar smiles, bright and charming…
And the elf was a swallow pond of myth, a pond of pure and cool spring water.
Everyone said that Lady Rose became more beautiful. Perhaps moisturised by love.
A beetle, who loved Lady Rose unrequitedly, watched this quietly with his red eyes. The elf discovered him. Was the ugly humble little creature jealous of it? But his ruby eyes were so powerless and harmless. His vain jealousy aroused the elf’s sadness and compassion, just as the grains on his wings, confusion of darkness and brightness, and his rebellion against fate did. It was tears rather than helpless hatred caused the congestion of blood in the beetle’s eyes.
It seemed beautiful things were often vulnerable to fade. Although the elf was aware of the kindness of the beetle, his harmless jealousy could still account for the following tragedy.
However, Lady Rose was unaware of anything that had happened. Every woman in love was as ignorant as a young girl, and that’s why they could experience the most innocent happiness ever, the wonderful pinnacle of life.
Curse was a crack, where the tragic end of the beauty usually began; a potential break point on a taut string.
At least the elf believed so, or he could not come up with another reason to explain why Lady Rose left.
And she did.
But she was beautiful and bright as usual just the day before she went away, looked like a flower in full boom, which completely opened its mind, gave out the pleasant fragrance, accepted and diluted the dust. She was gorgeous as always; her smile made her face rosy.
The pinnacle beauty of her moved the beetle to tears.
In the arms of the elf before they fell asleep, she smiled and said that she carelessly dropped into the swallow water – things underneath were so beautiful, and they seemed so near… the water was bitterly cold, but the sun melt in the water let her forget the sting of skins, forget where she was, as if she was a bloom bathing in the tangible sunshine…
The eyes of the beetle kept red as usual while the elf was recounting the story. The only difference was his eyes became puffier this time. The elf, at lost, looked over the sobbing beetle who was picking up the fallen petals around with his head low, and looked into the sky where the colour of red turned into purple and the moon rose as the nightfall progressed.
The night came.
The beetle’s lonely state of being single did not change at all, but the elf’s Lady Rose had fade away.
Just like his first flower…He could still remember.
Yes…he could still remember.
He remembered the gentle warm of breeze in the early summer. Scents of fresh flowers and grasses were around in the air – that was the scent of life, which was as lively as the bustle green bristle grasses. When the elf looked up, the azure sky was divided into bits by the dense fresh branches and leaves. His eyes were as pure as the water of autumn in the broken bits of sunshine dripping from the gaps between leaves.
This innocent deep gaze, this perfectly smooth water surface of his eyes, however, was rippled by the fall of an undesired leaf called ‘confusion’.
He remembered of the girl who used to lean on his shoulder left unexpectedly – the beauty with blonde hair glamorous as sunshine, who companied him through under the remaining cold of winter and the following warm of spring.
He alone passed through the fragrant path where they had roamed through, hearing the cry of a cicada that was as bright as a sharp reflection of the lake, showing the energy of summer.
Indeed, you could feel torridness even in the cool breeze of summer. And so were woods and grass. The carefully constructed bushes in the spring became bustle and messy now; branches and sticks were sweaty, stretching their arms greedily into the cooler air, unfolding their hands, fingers fully stretched, as if they were to catch whatever reachable.
He alone went past the desperate fingernails of branches and sticks.
The sunshine was the water dipping from the crossed bony fingers of branches and sticks. Dip by dip, shiny like tears of a snowman, sounded like the subtle bright notes when the dew sparkled. This frequency could only be captured and distinguished by ears of an elf.
And he heard it…
Also the sound of the decomposition of fallen leaves in the soil…
Also the sound of cracking pupas torn by impatient new lives…
And the stretching of wings behind…the flooding body liquid flushed through the supple translucent lines on the wings. Felt like being captured by two invisible fingers, his sensitive wings were burnt by the hot energy and fluttered. Eddies were formed in the heavy air. It was not because his body became lighter, but the strong force formed when his wings pushed through the air that lifted his legs off the ground – at the instant he felt as thrilling as dropping from a steep cliff!
Now the up stretching branches raised their heads, calling him to stay.
Sunshine was as gentle as his flower’s arms, soft and warm, stroking his back and wings.
Springy wind was suppressing his lungs; sceneries forward were extremely open, and the only thing attached him was the string called ‘freedom’…
But…that blonde girl; that innocent girl with bright sunny smiles…
She was a beautiful trap. he felt as if he saw her in the lively sceneries below, which dragged him out of this dreamlike feeling, and he perceived his weight again,both soul and body helplessly fell and fell… in the unfamiliar air streams which he could not yet proficiently control.
The untrammelled growing woods were like green sponges as he looked down in the air. Not until he dropped inside the woods could he see withered branches, which greedily scratched his skins, face, trying to break his wings with their sharp nails before he could ever take a breath.
He fell into somewhere dead silent in the woods. No sunshine dripping – the tears of the snowman had already been soaked up by the thirsty branches.
Rotten leaf bits were damp and soft; every time you step onto them, it felt just like your feet were rubbed with uneven mud. And there was a stink of sour wines around;however, that was merely the smell of the dead tree – the sly grin of demon,who whispered aside his captives: “forget…just to forget...and drink up the wine.”
The elf was shivering.He was too scared to remember his fear.
But he was astonished by the dim light ahead in the dark…the quiet, golden, warm light,gentle like the sunshine in the early spring…
His feet started to struggle in the distance between her, which was actually not too far but felt like the longest distance he had ever covered in his entire life… His first flower fell inside a round concave basin, where the dim light from dying creatures were sobbing like cries of crickets in the late autumn, here and there. It was her unique colour that drew his attention.
It was her that always attached him so tightly.
And this was a huge grave for flowers.
He didn't know why she came here, which was a question he failed to ask in his life.
He saw her sad but composed eyes. His body couldn't help moving in her direction. The fresh power inside his wings gushed and enabled him to fly; he swiftly skimmed over the grave of flowers, like a vigorous dragonfly.
The eddies in the air stirred the belongings in the grave, some of which had completely turned into ash, while others still had some translucent membranes of petal left, and the colourful, fragrant flesh of the petal had gone with moisture. Some petals - mostly rotten but still a bit colour remained - spiralled into the air, bumped onto his body like rains. He heard the last cry of those dead flowers which sounded like absurd laughter, perhaps dead creatures were no longer able to learn how to weep, only to express with blind laughter…
He lifted the only alive flower – his flower.
He was as brave as a dragonfly, flying low through heavy air, holding his trophy tightly, and heading forward…He could also feel how tightly her cold arms were around his neck, and his body temperature was some sort of energy of life to her. Flying…until passing through the dim thick woods, until the light of summer appeared behind the last crossing branches, until he heard the dripping sounds of sunshine which dropped from the gaps between branches like the tears of a snowman,tip-tack, tip-tack…
He fell off in the dark just few steps away from the brightness, exhausted. That was a heavy fall off, and he could feel the hurt of the wings…but how could she bear it if it had been her who hit the ground first?
The elf smiled happily, lying on the rough ground, holding her safely in his warm arms.
His flower lay on his chest, trembling and weeping…he could feel his chest was wet by her tears.
He could see her broken smile.
“We shall never leave each other again,” he knew what she was thinking, although she didn't say anything.
The silent love once again brought them together. He kissed her smooth face with full love. She was so young, and how could he let the grave of flower took her away ruthlessly…
However, her blonde silky hair clung to his hand as he stroked it…she shuddered, gasped, the composed desperate in her eyes was to tell him the worst news – she had already prepared to accept the worst fate.
A thread of,no, a trail of her beautiful blonde hair fell off his fingers.
Their closely huddled body separated unconsciously.
The elf was trembling and he dared not look into her eyes again. The trail of blonde hair which had fallen onto the ground was as shocking as the ashen skins of a corpse. He could feel the previously neglected fear when he was in the woods,which now captured both his body and soul.
Her fingers were stilling on his face lightly. The last touch was on his lips, like a broken kiss, and she smiled gloomily. Everything was in silence. She went into the dark in haste, while he flew towards the brightness.
It was the first time he felt so desperately empty and confused…how could he believe that it was this empty heart once had filled with happiness.
Then bitterness appeared, or rather pain; yes it was perhaps pain, to be exact… No, no. He couldn't tell. In a word, he had to experience the entire process of letting go happiness…during which emotion and senses flushed against reminiscence and reality over and over again, and then they would carve on his memory for the fact that emptiness came home.
He laughed and started to fly towards the bright warm sun. His laughter echoed in eddies of air, just like the last cry of those broken petals…
【原创于2009年秋，英格兰，约克；自译于2011年，约克】
【愿借此以文会友·欧美文学粉】
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