Fallen Flowers Without Trace花落了無痕

To me, it was supposed a fine day. The sunshine in May warmly embraced the earth in her arms. It was already the time when the Spring was approaching to its end and flowers were fading away; nevertheless, in the courtyard, a tung tree was still in full blossom. The light pink flowers hung on all the branches like the windbells in a dreamland, with a silky faint fragrance filled in the air all over the yard. Out with a small chair, I seated myself leisurely under the tung flowers.

A small breeze stole in, slightly and gently at first, with the light pink flowers flying and falling softly in the light blue sky, like the elegant melodious sound of Guzheng(a kind of Chinese traditional musical instrument), and the fragrant poetic lines, and the colurful butterflies flying and dancing. I was fascinated in the scene of the dance of the falling flowers. Only after a while, however, the wind was growing stronger, scraping and swinging the beautiful dresses of tung flowers to and fro in the air, and stirring up the fallen flowers and dust spreading all over the street. Soon came down the raindrops, as big as beans, dropping onto my skin, cool and painful. I hurried back to my room and wached on the balcony. The branches were rustling in the wind and rain, and the flowers on the tree were swaying and falling in succession, which occurred to me the verse that “The wind blows the autumn leaves falling onto the ground, which again are blown up by the wind.”But at the time, I was not brought to the beautiful artistic conception but quite a pity“to appriciate the Spring till ending, only leaving a wet garment with tears.”These beautiful flowers, once gentle and lovely and voluptuous, having attracted bees and butterflies in a continuous stream, could not withstand the attack of wind and rain, falling down and scattering on the earth, and turned into spring mud with much desolation from the disappearance of flourish and the dreams fading away.

A long time passed before the rain stopped. I walked out of my room, back to the yard, seeing fallen flowers in pieces scatter here and there. I stepped over the broken flowers lightly, when I couldn’t help thinking of the sentimental mood of a poet in Song Dynasty , standing behind the curtain and chanting the verse:“A half mu (unit of land measure in China) of tung flowers melt a yard of the worrying rain quietly.”And a mass of melancholy fancy thronged my mind as well. After the baptism of wind and rain, the sky appeared cleaner. The few tenacious flowers left on the tung trees appeared brighter and more gorgeous. And the newly growing leaves now also looked even tender and greener. As the warm sunshine cast onto the earth again, I got feeling bright too.

 The secret of flowers, I think, is to present spring with a fragrant posture, to display her born beauty at the cost of life during each life cycle, to fade away and turn into spring mud silently when conceiving fruits, and to foster new lives with the maternal gentleness. That is why flowers will whirl down so indifferently and elegantly, and smile so peacefully and tranquilly after the wind and rain.

我以為這是一個晴好的天氣，五月的陽光熱情的擁抱著大地。雖然已是春盡花殘時，但院落里的一棵桐樹花開的正艷。粉白的花朵如夢幻中的風鈴掛滿枝頭，清幽的香氣如絲如縷地彌漫在整個院落。我搬過一個小椅子，在桐花下閑坐。

不知什么時候起風了，開始還是細細的微風，粉白色的花朵在天空淡藍色的素箋上輕輕飄落，感覺象典雅清悠的古箏聲悠悠入耳。象清香的詩頁，仿佛有彩蝶振羽飄舞。一時陶醉在這落花飛舞的情節(jié)中。但只一會兒，風就大了起來，撕扯著桐花美麗的衣裙凌亂搖擺，風攪起地上的落花和沙塵，彌漫了整個街道。有豆大的雨點落下來，砸在皮膚上涼涼的疼。我趕快回到房間，在陽臺上觀望，樹枝在風雨中嘩嘩作響，滿樹的桐花晃晃蕩蕩，紛紛墜落。突然想起那句“風吹秋葉落地，落地風又吹起”，但此時帶給我的不是那優(yōu)美的意境，卻是憐惜?！胺夹南虼罕M，所得是沾衣”。這美麗的花，曾綻出柔媚艷麗，曾引來蜂蝶紛至，卻終于不堪風雨的侵襲，帶著著繁華散盡的落寞，和遠遠逝去的夢，散落滿地春泥。

過了很久，雨才停了下來。我走出房間，重新回到院落。滿院落花零亂，紅綃香殘，我輕輕地踏香走過。此時遙想宋人佇立簾后，吟誦著“桐花半畝，靜銷一庭愁雨”的惆悵之情，心中亦是浮想聯(lián)翩。經(jīng)過風雨的洗禮，天空愈發(fā)顯得純凈，滿樹桐花已所剩無幾，但剩下的幾朵頑強的花，卻愈發(fā)鮮亮，新發(fā)的枝葉也更柔嫩青翠，溫和的陽光又重新灑向大地。此時心情也明媚起來。

我想花的秘密，是要帶給春一個芬芳的身姿，是要在每一個歲月輪回中，傾盡生命綻放屬于她的美麗。是要在孕育果實的時刻，悄然將自己隱去，化作春泥。用母性的溫柔，撫慰新的生命。所以她才會這么淡然優(yōu)雅地飄落，在風雨之后靜謐微笑。

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