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Fallen Flowers Without Trace花落了无痕

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.

我以为这是一个晴好的天气，五月的阳光热情的拥抱着大地。虽然已是春尽花残时，但院落里的一棵桐树花开的正艳。粉白的花朵如梦幻中的风铃挂满枝头，清幽的香气如丝如缕地弥漫在整个院落。我搬过一个小椅子，在桐花下闲坐。

不知什么时候起风了，开始还是细细的微风，粉白色的花朵在天空淡蓝色的素笺上轻轻飘落，感觉象典雅清悠的古筝声悠悠入耳。象清香的诗页，仿佛有彩蝶振羽飘舞。一时陶醉在这落花飞舞的情节中。但只一会儿，风就大了起来，撕扯着桐花美丽的衣裙凌乱摇摆，风搅起地上的落花和沙尘，弥漫了整个街道。有豆大的雨点落下来，砸在皮肤上凉凉的疼。我赶快回到房间，在阳台上观望，树枝在风雨中哗哗作响，满树的桐花晃晃荡荡，纷纷坠落。突然想起那句“风吹秋叶落地，落地风又吹起”，但此时带给我的不是那优美的意境，却是怜惜。“芳心向春尽，所得是沾衣”。这美丽的花，曾绽出柔媚艳丽，曾引来蜂蝶纷至，却终于不堪风雨的侵袭，带着着繁华散尽的落寞，和远远逝去的梦，散落满地春泥。

过了很久，雨才停了下来。我走出房间，重新回到院落。满院落花零乱，红绡香残，我轻轻地踏香走过。此时遥想宋人伫立帘后，吟诵着“桐花半亩，静销一庭愁雨”的惆怅之情，心中亦是浮想联翩。经过风雨的洗礼，天空愈发显得纯净，满树桐花已所剩无几，但剩下的几朵顽强的花，却愈发鲜亮，新发的枝叶也更柔嫩青翠，温和的阳光又重新洒向大地。此时心情也明媚起来。

我想花的秘密，是要带给春一个芬芳的身姿，是要在每一个岁月轮回中，倾尽生命绽放属于她的美丽。是要在孕育果实的时刻，悄然将自己隐去，化作春泥。用母性的温柔，抚慰新的生命。所以她才会这么淡然优雅地飘落，在风雨之后静谧微笑。

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