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林海系列之三：樱花雨
三月樱花雨
云天
淅淅沥沥的雨终于累了, 望着山坡上连天的碧草, 满足地停下了疲乏的脚步.
三月的杨柳风轻轻拂过, 住家旁边的樱花羞怯怯地迸出粉嫩嫩的花蕊.
四五天的光景, 一树树的樱花就赶趟似地缀满了枝头.
一簇簇的花朵, snowball 一般, 聚在一起开着热闹的party.
循香而来的蜜蜂, 在满树云霞间飞来飞去, 哼唱着快乐的小调.
春风吹呀吹, 花瓣飘啊飘.
如北国的片片雪花, 也似江南的濛濛烟雨, 在湛蓝的天空下纷纷扬扬.
飞过人家的栅栏, 和着屋檐下风铃叮叮噹噹的音符; 轻轻敲打书窗, 嫣然一笑, 然后打着旋落到绿草地上.
樱花, 你这自由美丽的精灵!
花开时, 你展颜微笑; 花落时, 你从容飞舞.
来也匆匆, 去也匆匆, 温暖的阳光下, 你没有一丝忧愁!
在这幽静的花径上, 时时有赏花的人.
一对老夫妇, 结伴而来.
她站在树下, 似乎沉醉在淡淡的花香中, 微微笑着.
他眯着眼, 举起傻瓜机对着她定格.
飘飞的樱花洒落在两人斑斑的银发上.
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.
但唯有一人爱你灵魂的至诚，
爱你渐衰的脸上愁苦的风霜. (傅浩译叶芝诗)
执子之手与子偕老的景致如这樱花雨一般美丽!
哦, 瞧那个可爱的小女孩, 大概只有三, 四岁吧.
身着碎花连衫裙, 长发上斜斜地插着一朵樱花.
她正迎着爸爸的摄相机跑去. 年轻的妈妈在一旁浅笑如花.
Sweet childish days, that were as long as twenty days are now.
甜甜的孩童时光, 就如现今的二十天一般.
光阴飞逝, 正如这花开花落.
眼前骤然浮起女儿用树枝在池边垂钓的模样,
耳边响起竹林里山石旁数牌子上的号码的呀呀童语.
飞走了的, 是不再重来的往日时光;
留下来的, 是时时飘舞的记忆的芬芳.
And ‘tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
我坚信每一朵花
享受她啜饮的空气.
我也相信, 每一个走过的路人, 都会沉醉在这樱花的清香里.
满树的粉白中, 已依稀可见正悄悄冒出的新绿.
花的生命可不是在叶子里延续着么.
Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.
朋友, 且把樱花雨当做三月的春醪吧. 干杯!
注: 除叶芝诗外, 引用的均为W. Wordsworth 的诗.
Cherry Blossom Rain of March
The pattering rain finally gets tired and halts its weary steps with content when eyeing the green grass on the hill stretching all the way to the horizon.
As the wafting breeze of March gently brushes over weeping willows and white poplars, the cherry trees next to my house burst out with pinkish tender blossoms like shy maidens.
In just a period of four or five days, trees after trees are adorned with cherry blossoms hurrying onto the boughs.
Clusters of flowers gather together like snowballs to celebrate spring in the hustle and bustle of blooming season.
Following the fragrance, buzzing bees come and fly among the flowery clouds of the tree, humming merry lays.
Riding the vernal breeze, the soft petals flutter in the air, showering all over the place under the blue sky, like pearly snowflakes of northern country, also as if misty drizzles in southern China.
The falling blossoms float over the fence, joining the jingly melody played by the wind chimes under the eave. They softly tap at the window of my study, giving me a sweet smile, before swirling down to the grassy lawn.
O, cherry blossoms, beautiful and unfettered spirit!
At time of blossoming, you beam sunshine smiles; at time of fading, you fall calmly with grace.
You come and go in haste. In the warmth of sunlight, you disperse all the sorrows!
On this quiet path strewn with blossoms, passersby stop to gaze at the scene from time to time.
Here comes an old couple arm in arm.
She stands under a tree, smiling gently, as if indulging in the light aroma of flowers.
He screws up his eyes at the camera to capture her smile in the picture.
The flowing blossoms sprinkle down on their silver hair.
“But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.”
Lines of W. Yeats come to life at this moment.
Hand in hand, two loved ones walk to the very end of the road. A fine view like this is just beautiful as the falling cherry blossoms!
O, look at that lovely little girl, who is about three or four years old, wearing a floral dress, with a cherry blossom pinned in her long hair. She is running toward her daddy’s camera while her young mom is smiling a flowery smile at her.
“Sweet childish days, that were as long as twenty days are now.”
O, the sweet childhood and fleeting moments who'd ever forget.
Time flies, just like flowers, blooming and fading in a hurry.
In a sudden, an old picture comes alive in my mind. I remember how my younger girl looked when she fished with a stick by the pond.
And I seem to hear again my older daughter reading the numbers on those signs in the bamboo woods in her babyish voice.
What's flown away is the bygone time that will never ever return.
What still remains is the scent of memory that every now and then dances in our minds.
“And ‘tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.”
W. Wordsworth certainly understands the soul of each flower.
I believe that every passerby's heart would be carried away by the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
Amid the snowy and pinkish boughs, some fresh green leaves are shooting if you look close.
The life of flowers is being extended by the leaves.
“Our minds shall drink at every pore
The spirit of the season.”
With Wordsworth’s beautiful lines, my friends, let’s fill our glasses with cherry blossom rain as spring wine and toast to the flowery March.
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