【原创·文/译文】
他用光脚丫踩平了最后一块突起的土，抖抖晶莹的翅膀，飞到最近的一株草上，轻巧地坐到叶梢头，碰落一颗充满弹性的露珠。
这是一块小小的花园。精灵管这里叫家，因为他的意识往前延伸，就模糊在这里。也许他在这里出生；肯定的是，他是在这里长大的。没有精心的打理，花园些许荒芜，就像他微黄而蓬乱的发——但它们一直是美丽的，你闻到自由的气息，看到秋风打理出的随意的凌乱，这给人以十月阳光般的慰藉。
他的眼神无声地下垂，那抔小小的裸土在微微泛黄而尚且茂密的草丛中显得格外扎眼，好像心被人偷走了一块。四周静得恰好能容下蓝色的遐想。他抖抖翅膀，那四片窄窄的薄纱透出彻蓝彻蓝的天空。浮云游弋，他突然飘了起来，感觉身体非常得轻，似乎都不用费力抖动他的翼。
他知道他终于解脱了。最后一条扣在他心上，扎得他的灵魂流血的丝线突然间失去了魔力，像一颗破碎的音符般失落于半空，于是他获得了自由。
他飞离这块小小的花园的时候，金色的阳光均匀地给油画般的地面上光。满眼是鲜艳饱满的色彩，满得似乎要溢出来。他头也没有回——那块空出来的心灵，有多少美丽的事物期待着他把她们往上面播种。他爱所有的花。他有一颗很温暖的心，能让她们舒舒服服地安家。他需要爱情。
那抔小小的裸土渐渐消失在他美丽的身影之后，而他连头也没有回。虽然想到那抔土的时候，他的翅膀经不住微微地颤抖了那么一下——那一瞬，她枯槁的容颜闪现在他的脑海里，她那脱水的轻飘身体在他怀里奄奄一息……他倒抽了一口气——他还是美丽如初，而她老去了，枯萎了——她，他的第一朵花。她那有限的生命带不走他的恒久的爱情，死亡最后还是终结了她想要独享他的爱情的痴心。
那最后的时光是一场噩梦。无论是对于他，还是她。
……她在失去生命的水分。死神无声地降临，他握着她的手——她矛盾重重地紧紧抓住他，泪水加速了她痛苦的老去。她本不愿连他们的爱情的回忆也都结束在她那可怕的容颜里，但是她已无力再经受分离。他惊愕地瞪着所有的美丽从她的身体里蒸发，她悦耳的嗓音变成可怕而干涸的喘息。他不忍心，也没有更多的爱情使他心甘情愿陪在她的身边，眼睁睁地看她的毁灭，但是死亡以一种独有的，令人恐惧的惊艳俘虏了他的所有感知，他的灵魂就如被她紧紧抓住的他的肉体，无法逃离这次洗劫……
好在那些阴冷的夜晚的记忆总会消融在温暖的阳光里。
他甩甩美丽的脑袋，飞过一片闪闪发光的小池塘时，低头望见自己年轻的身影轻盈地掠过缤纷的水中倒影，好像一串洋溢着生命力的音符，充满着热情和张力。这个时候他听到了年轻的花儿们的笑声，她们闻到了傍晚玫瑰色阳光中他的爱情，夜的派对总是叫人欣喜。
他的感官被一阵阵花香盈满。久违的快乐——那本不该因为她的固执而中断的——又充盈了他的身心。他不禁微笑了，像每一次那样甜蜜醉人，那美丽的笑。小心地收拢翅膀，他步履轻盈地穿过草丛，踏向夜的舞池深处。
花香如浓浓的私语，四处飘溢着爱情的芬芳。这大概是一场持久的盛会，每一朵花都在夜晚化为精灵般翩翩的女子，期待着她们生命中的高潮的来临。许多像他一样的精灵朝着优雅的乐音飘来的方向徐徐飞去。
因为陌生和好奇，他不禁微微涨红了脸。他从来没有参加过夜的盛会。在他还不算长久的永恒的生命中，她曾一直是他唯一的爱和牵挂。而这一晚的盛会，将以浓墨重彩的方式在他单调的经历中增添光丽的一笔。
他怀着慌乱而兴奋的心跳步入夜的高潮之处。
许多娇艳的姑娘们凑在一起窃窃私语。她们发现了有些羞涩的他，用不同的方式笑了起来，却都很诱人。他不知道如何邀请她们跳舞。
这时一个身材高挑的姑娘从这一小簇人中大大方方地走了出来——那头深情款款的红色头发泛着华丽的亮泽，叫人痴迷。她的双颊绯红，但他看出这不是因为娇羞，而是抹上腮红的缘故。她身上有热烈而奔放的香气，这使她即使在众花之中也显得格外突出。其他的姑娘们颇为羡嫉地瞅着她的背影。
“邀请我跳舞吧。”玫瑰姑娘送给他一个大大的迷人微笑，然后挽起了他的手臂。
他于是就这样被领到了截然不同的新的生活之中。
He stamped the mound firm with his bare feet, fluttered his flittering wings, and flew to the nearest grass. He sat down on the tip of the grass gently, bumped off a drop of flexible dew.
This was a little garden. The elf called it home, since this was where the memory became blurred when he tried to trace it back. Perhaps he was not born here; but he was sure that he grew up here. The garden was a bit messy, just like his fair hair which was also in a mess, because nobody seemed to ever take care of this place – however, they were still beautiful – you could catch the fresh smell of freedom in the air and enjoy the natural messy work done by the autumn wind at its will, both as pleasant as the sunshine of October 1.
He looked down quietly. The mound, without any covering of grass, looked so empty in the flourishing weeds, as if it was a stolen part of his heart. The stillness around embraced the blue reverie. He fluttered his wings – the velvet blue sky could be seen through the four narrow pieces. Then he suddenly went with the wind, with slices and strings of clouds floating aside, everything so light and free that he didn't even need to flutter his wings.
Then he knew he was finally released. The last string attached to his heart, which ruthlessly pierced his soul, suddenly lost its magic, just like a broken music note disappeared in the air, and now he was set free.
The amazing landscape beneath seemed like a rich oil painting polished by the golden sunshine while he was flying away from the little garden. His eyes filled with bright colours, so full, as if they were to spill. But he wasn't even bothered to look back – he knew just so many pretty creatures were looking forward to grow on his newly released heart. He loved all the flowers. He had a warm heart, warm enough to settle these ladies down if they chose to grow there. He needed love.
He didn't even look back when that little bit of uncovered ground disappeared far behind him, although his wings trembled helplessly when he thought of it – just at that moment, her withered beauty flashed in his mind, as if her dehydrated body was still lying in his arms weightlessly… He gasped: he was beautiful as before,whilst she aged, withered… That girl, his first flower! But how could her limited life possibly take away his infinite love? Her death inevitably ended her ambition of dominating his love.
And the last few moments they spent together were such a nightmare, irrespective for him or her.
…She was losing the water of life. Death came silently. He held her hand – she grasped him with hesitation, that she did not want her terrible face to end his reminiscence of her beauty, but she could no longer bear a departure at this moment. Tears accelerated her miserable ageing. He stared with such a surprise, that all the beauty evaporated from her body and her sweet voice turned to be the horrible pant. It would be too miserable for him to stay with her and see her dying, and there was not enough love left to motivate him anyway. However, death captured all his senses in a unique ferocious way. His soul could not escape the misery, just like how his reluctant hand was grasped by her…
Fortunately, all the memories about those dark cold nights will be melted in the warm sunshine.
He shook his pretty head and skimmed over a flittering little pond. The reflection of his young body in the pond looked like a series of lively music notes, full of passion and power. Just then he heard laughter of young flowers. They must have perceived the scent of his love in the rosy sunset; parties pleasant as always.
Now his senses were filled with flower scents. The happiness that had been unreasonably lost by her persistence once again came into his body. He couldn't help smiling, his attractive, sweet, and warm smile! After closing up his wings, he went through the grass with lively steps, walking to the ball.
The strong fragrance of various flowers felt like the whispering of love. It seemed to bean extravagant feast. Every flower turned into a fairy lady, waiting for the climax of their whole life to come. He saw many elves like him flying to where the graceful music came from.
He blushed because of unfamiliarity and curiosity. He had never been to a night feast, since she used to be his sole love and concern at the brief beginning of his permanent life. This feast, however, would definitely add fresh bright colours to his pale experience.
He stepped into the climax of the night with flurry and excitement.
Many painted girls gathered together, whispering. They soon discovered this shy elf and smiled in different charming ways. He didn't even know how to invite them to dance.
Then a tall lady walked out calmly. Her gorgeous red hair was flashing and attractive, her face rosy; but somehow he knew that her rosy face was not genuine but the colour of make-ups. She had such an untrammelled strong scent which stood her out even in the horde of flowers. Other girls could only stare at her in silence with jealousy.
"Do you fancy a dance?" Lady Rose gave him a big charming smile, and took him away arm in arm.
This was how he was led into a completely different life.
To the next chapter: The Funeral of the Dandelion [2]
【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】
【版权所有】
网友评论