【原创·文/译文】
……精灵沉睡在玫瑰姑娘的怀里。
她抚弄着风情的红发，高贵的香气仿佛就从她的发端倾泻而出。
谁也说不出玫瑰姑娘的年纪。
她有年轻的皮肤，饱满的双唇，宛如少女。而她妖冶的眼神暗示着她的丰富经历和成熟。可她的容颜虽美，神情的淡然和冷漠却又像饱经沧桑，莫非早该风华已逝。
她从眼角和睫毛端睥睨，目光穿过被纤手掂起的发尖儿窥视，用手轻轻捡去他脸上的一片花瓣，然后仔细端详怀里的男子：他的平稳的呼吸或许透露，他多么具有精灵特有的生命力。他像其他精灵一样年轻，健康，生气勃勃，有一对精致的翅膀。
她的右手在他手中。像其他精灵一样，他天生懂得俘获女子爱情的尺度，正如此刻他握着她的手，轻柔得仿佛漫不经心，却刚好让她无法脱身。他把脑袋枕在她的腿上，其中一枚翅膀于是正好安躺在她的手边。那如同水晶般脆弱的美坦然地对她展示，好像他已经向她敞开心扉，谦虚地等待着她的肯定……这天生的精灵的气质，多情恰似专一，不知曾经迷惑过多少不经事的花朵。想到这里，玫瑰姑娘嫣然一笑。她轻柔地撩开他脸上的碎发，正如她刚才用她自己独特的方式解析和品读着他猎捕爱情的手法——那些标准的精灵式的花哨伎俩，其实她早已深谙于心。为什么她还要这样细细地观察他清秀的眉宇，好像那些老套的浪漫仍有余力叫她再次心醉？她的目光好像一叶不知满足的蝶，轻浮地落于徒有香气的散落的花瓣之上，明明知道甜美的花蜜不再有，还在他那似乎飘散着诱人花香的面容上寻寻觅觅……
于是她进一步回忆着刚刚他带给她的欢愉，他的吻和爱抚。那些天生的精灵的把戏啊……玫瑰姑娘的嘴角高傲地挂起一个轻蔑的微笑，而她的眼神却陷入神往和迷惘之中……她像最初的少女一般迷了路，却找不到这香软的混沌的起点——她细细端详，找不出怀里的男子有何特殊之处。此刻他宁静地熟睡，面容的确俊美却谈不上能够让她痴迷的惊艳——只是在她的意料之中，他的灵动为精灵的血统授予，美丽不多一寸。为什么她像第一次经历爱情一样陷入徒劳却无终的沉思之中，她无法像平常一样潇潇洒洒地推开身旁酣睡的男伴，好像用一颗碎石击破他们编织的水面般柔滑却不堪一击的爱情谎言？
她的左手从柔顺的深红色万缕千丝中滑脱，不经意地垂落在身旁——轻触到他的翅膀。
玫瑰姑娘惊愕地倒吸了一口气——好像一个致命的吻，她情不自禁地一阵战栗，双手紧握胸前——敏感的精灵被翅膀上的轻触所惊醒，他慵懒地半睁开双眼。
不那算不上是一双惊艳到比精灵该有的灵气更美一寸的眼睛。她想用理智使心跳均匀下来。
他的神情有些精灵的忧郁，带着倦意，甚至……有一点点委屈。
她的手颤抖着抚了抚他的发，似乎希望带给他一丝慰藉——她有些措手不及——那是一双孩子的眼睛，它们没有因为她的轻抚而顺从地阖上；她无法平稳呼吸。
半醒的精灵突然用手挡开了她的轻抚。
精灵的睫毛抖动。一丝不安全感。
……有点委屈。
他突然睁大了眼睛，这一次完全从梦中醒来。
玫瑰姑娘努力想使自己平静下来——但他在搜寻什么呢？他在期待什么？他梦见了怎样的美好的事物？她是否真正美丽如万人的期待？
精灵的神情些微苦涩和焦虑，迷惘的甜蜜，阳光……好像一个挣扎在美梦边缘的人……为下一刻步入梦境还是返回不堪的现实而战战兢兢……空灵的眼神在回复神气的瞬间失去了那些若隐若现的梦幻般的神采——他看到了她。
玫瑰姑娘抿住双唇。她终于没能避免看到他眼神里的微妙的与众不同……那似乎，是一种未被满足的期待？
精灵直起身来，面容平静地凝视着眼前的姑娘。
她的心如双唇般颤抖。
尽管她的手在他手里，他却反而像她手里的风筝，一捧水，一阵风。她要将他握紧，尽管他拥抱她，亲吻她，好像她才是他手心所握不住的，可她不敢，或经验告诉她她不能，用心思，如两枚纤长的手指掂起一片树叶般将他俘虏——他是雪，棉絮般温暖的外表冻伤她的触觉和理智，一旦她耗尽了体温，她要受伤，会很痛，而他会在她捏紧的手中融化，永永远远抓不住。
他亲吻她的时候她像初恋的女子般战战兢兢，她的心如双唇般颤抖。
…The elf was deeply in sleep, lying in Lady Rose’s arms.
She was stroking her amorous red hair. Graceful scent flowed out from the end of her hair.
Nobody knew her age.
She had young skins, puffy lips, just like a young girl. However, her coquettish eyes implied her rich experience and maturity. Although she had a pretty appearance, her chilly looks seemed that her youth should have gone long ago.
She glimpsed through the end of her eyelash, peeped at him through the end of her hair held in her hand, picked up a petal from his face, and then looked carefully at the man in her arms. His calm breath perhaps revealed how much animation unique to elves he owned. He was the same as the others: young, healthy, lively, with two pairs of exquisite wings.
Her right hand was held in his. Just as other elves, he was gifted in how to capture women’s love – he was holding her hand, so gentle as if he did it unconsciously, but it was just enough to keep her aside. He laid his head on her laps, and one of his wings was right beside her free hand. That beauty, fragile as crystals, so vulnerably exposed to her, as though he had opened his entire mind to her,waiting humbly for her favour…The elves’ endless pursuit for love and romantic encounters, on the contrary, always appeared to be sincere for only one love,which fooled many inexperienced young flowers, and Lady Rose gave a charming smile when she thought of this. She gently wiped away the hair on his forehead,so as to read how he hunted for love in her special way, and enjoyed it – those cheesy hunting tricks of the elves were too familiar to her. But, why was she still staring at his handsome face, as though those same old tricks still had the magic to intoxicate her? Her sights, like a greedy butterfly although knowing that there was no longer any honey left other than useless scents,still frivolously settled down onto the fallen dead petals, sought and sought over his pretty face…
And she recalled the pleasure he had just given her, his kisses and touches. That’s merely tricks of elves! A scornful smile appeared at her proud lips, but her eyes fell into confusion and yearning…She found herself lost like a young girl,but failed to know where the sweet chaos began – she scrutinised his face, but couldn't spot any speciality from it. Now he was sleeping peacefully. He did have a pretty face, but not enough to amaze her. It’s merely within her expectation, not exceeding the genetic beauty of an elf. But how did she fall into this endless and pointless reflection, as if she was experiencing her first love? She just couldn't abandon him as she usually did to other men ruthlessly– like hitting the illusory surface of water with a stone and breaking this smooth lie.
Her left hand slid away from her silky deep red hair, and unconsciously fell down onto his wings.
And she gasped –it felt like a fatal kiss, and she trembled and couldn't help holding her hands tightly before her chest – the sensitive elf was waken by the touch on his wings, his eyes half opened…
No they were not any better than the genetic beauty of an elf’s eyes…She tried to calm herself down with reasons.
…There was some blue in his looks, a bit weary, and… and a bit wronged.
Her trembling hand stroked his hair, trying to comfort him – she was unprepared and in a mess– they were children’s innocent eyes, and wouldn't even close peacefully after her stroke. Now she could not pacify her breath.
He was half awake and suddenly pushed her hands away.
…A bit sad, he felt, helplessly.
But at this moment he suddenly opened his eyes and woke from dreams completely.
Lady Rose was trying to calm herself down – but…What was he seeking for? What was his expectation? What kind of beauty had he dreamt of? Was…Was she as beautiful as what all men claimed?
Bitterness and anxiety,together with sweetness and confusion, and some sunshine, all appeared on his face at the same time… like those struggling at the edge of a dream…hesitating at whether to enter the dream again, or go back to the bitter reality…And his empty sights lost all the wonderful animation the moment he came back to the reality – he saw her.
Her lips trembled. Lady Rose failed to avoid seeing the subtle difference in his eyes…something like…expectation unsatisfied.
The elf sat up,looked at her calmly.
Her heart was now trembling like her lips.
Although they were hand in hand, he was like a kite with merely a string in her hand, a handful of water, a gust of wind. She wanted to hold him tight, although he hugged her, kissed her, as if she was something that could not be captured in his hand; but she dare not, or her experience told her that she could not capture him with her schemes, no, not like simply using two fingers to clip up a piece of leaf. He was snow; His cotton-like warm appearance would freeze her senses. Once she had exhausted her temperature, she would be hurt, but he would still melt away from her tightly held hand, that she could never keep him forever.
She couldn't help shivering like a young girl in her first love when he kissed her. Her heart kept trembling like her lips.
【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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