威廉·莎士比亚《维纳斯与阿多尼斯》

Still she entreats and prettily  entreats,

For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale.

Still is he sullen, still he lours  and frets,

'Twixt  crimson shame and anger ashy-pale:

Being red, she loves him best, and being white,

Her best is bettered with a more delight.

Look how he can  , she cannot choose but love,

And by her fair immortal hand she swears

From his soft bosom never to remove 

Till he take truce with her contending  tears,

Which long have rained, making her cheeks all wet,

And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless  debt.

Upon this promise did he raise his chin,

Like a dive-dapper  peering through a wave,

Who, being looked on, ducks as quickly in:

So offers he to give what she did crave,

But when her lips were ready for his pay,

He winks  and turns his lips another way.

Never did passenger  in summer's heat

More thirst for drink than she for this good turn  .

Her help she sees, but help she cannot get,

She bathes in water  , yet her fire must burn:

'O, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy!

'Tis but a kiss I beg, why art thou coy  ?

'I have been wooed, as I entreat thee now,

Even by the stern and direful god of war  ,

Whose sinewy  neck in battle ne'er did bow  ,

Who conquers where he comes in every jar  ,

Yet hath he been my captive and my slave

And begged for that which thou unasked shalt have.

'Over my altars hath he hung his lance,

His battered shield, his uncontrollèd  crest  ,

And for my sake hath learned to sport and dance,

To toy, to wanton, dally  , smile and jest,

Scorning his churlish  drum and ensign  red,

Making my arms  his field  , his tent my bed.

'Thus he that overruled I overswayed  ,

Leading him prisoner in a red rose chain.

Strong-tempered  steel his stronger strength obeyed  ,

Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.

O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,

For mast'ring her that foiled  the god of fight.

'Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine —

Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red —

The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine.

What see'st thou in the ground? Hold up thy head.

Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies  ,

Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?

'Art thou ashamed to kiss? Then wink  again,

And I will wink, so shall the day seem night.

Love keeps his revels  where there are but twain  :

Be bold  to play, our sport is not in sight  .

These blue-veined  violets whereon we lean

Never can blab nor know not what we mean.

'The tender spring  upon thy tempting lip

Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted.

Make use of time, let not advantage slip,

Beauty within itself should not be wasted.

Fair flowers that are not gathered in their prime

Rot and consume themselves in little time.

'Were I hard-favoured  , foul  or wrinkled-old,

Ill-nurtured  , crooked  , churlish, harsh in voice,

O'erworn  , despisèd, rheumatic  and cold  ,

Thick-sighted  , barren, lean and lacking juice  ,

Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee,

But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

'Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow,

Mine eyes are grey  and bright and quick in turning:

My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,

My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow  burning,

My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,

Would in thy palm dissolve or seem to melt.

'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,

Or like a fairy trip  upon the green,

Or like a nymph  with long dishevelled hair

Dance on the sands and yet no footing  seen.

Love is a spirit  all compact  of fire,

Not gross  to sink, but light  and will aspire  .

'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie,

These forceless  flowers like sturdy trees support me:

Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky

From morn till night, even where I list  to sport me.

Is love so light  , sweet boy, and may it be

That thou should think it heavy  unto thee?

'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected  ?

Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left  ?

Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected:

Steal thine own freedom and complain on  theft.

Narcissus  so himself himself forsook  ,

And died to kiss his shadow  in the brook.

'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,

Dainties  to taste, fresh beauty for the use  ,

Herbs for their smell and sappy  plants to bear  .

Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:

Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty.

Thou wast begot: to get  it is thy duty.

'Upon the earth's increase  why shouldst thou feed,

Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?

By law of nature thou art bound to breed,

That thine  may live when thou thyself art dead:

And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,

In that thy likeness still is left alive.'

By this  the lovesick queen began to sweat,

For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,

And Titan  , tirèd  in the midday heat,

With burning eye did hotly  overlook them,

Wishing Adonis had his team  to guide,

So he were like him  and by Venus' side.

And now Adonis with a lazy sprite 

And with a heavy, dark, disliking  eye,

His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight 

Like misty vapours  when they blot the sky,

Souring  his cheeks, cries, 'Fie, no more of love!

The sun doth burn my face. I must remove.'

'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young and so unkind,

What bare  excuses mak'st thou to be gone!

I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind

Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:

I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs,

If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.

'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,

And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee:

The heat I have from thence doth little harm,

Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me,

And were I not immortal, life were done 

Between this heavenly and earthly sun  .

'Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?

Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth:

Art thou a woman's son and canst not feel

What 'tis to love, how want  of love tormenteth?

O, had thy mother  borne so hard a mind,

She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind  .

'What am I that thou shouldst contemn  me this  ?

Or what great danger dwells upon my suit  ?

What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?

Speak, fair, but speak fair words or else be mute:

Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again,

And one for int'rest, if thou wilt have twain.

'Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,

Well-painted idol, image dull and dead,

Statue  contenting but the eye alone,

Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:

Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion  ,

For men will kiss even by their own direction  .'

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,

And swelling passion doth provoke a pause,

Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth  her wrong:

Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause  ;

And now she weeps and now she fain  would speak,

And now her sobs do her intendments  break.

Sometime she shakes her head and then his hand,

Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;

Sometime her arms enfold him like a band,

She would  , he will not in her arms be bound:

And when from thence he struggles to be gone,

She locks her lily fingers one  in one.

'Fondling  ,' she saith, 'since I have hemmed thee here

Within the circuit of this ivory pale  ,

I'll be a park  and thou shalt be my deer  :

Feed where thou wilt on mountain or in dale  ,

Graze on my lips and, if those hills be dry,

Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Within this limit  is relief  enough,

Sweet bottom-grass  and high delightful plain  ,

Round rising hillocks  , brakes  obscure  and rough,

To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:

Then be my deer, since I am such a park,

No dog shall rouse  thee, though a thousand bark.'

At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,

That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple;

Love made those hollows, if  himself were slain,

He might be buried in a tomb so simple,

Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,

Why, there love lived and there he could not die.

These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits  ,

Opened their mouths to swallow Venus' liking:

Being mad before, how doth she now for wits  ?

Struck dead at first  , what needs a second striking?

Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn  ,

To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn.

Now which way shall she turn? What shall she say?

Her words are done, her woes are more increasing,

The time is spent, her object will away,

And from her twining arms doth urge releasing:

'Pity!' she cries, 'Some favour, some remorse  !'

Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.

But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by  ,

A breeding  jennet  , lusty  , young and proud  ,

Adonis' trampling courser  doth espy,

And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud.

The strong-necked steed, being tied unto a tree,

Breaketh his rein and to her straight  goes he.

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,

And now his woven girths  he breaks asunder,

The bearing  earth with his hard hoof he wounds,

Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder,

The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,

Controlling what he was controllèd with.

His ears up-pricked, his braided hanging mane

Upon his compassed crest  now stand on end,

His nostrils drink the air and forth again,

As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:

His eye, which scornfully glisters  like fire,

Shows his hot courage  and his high desire.

Sometime he trots, as if he told  the steps

With gentle  majesty and modest pride,

Anon  he rears upright, curvets  and leaps,

As who should  say, 'Lo, thus my strength is tried 

And this I do to captivate the eye

Of the fair breeder that is standing by.'

What recketh he  his rider's angry stir  ,

His flattering  'Holla  ', or his 'Stand, I say'?

What cares he now for curb  or pricking spur?

For rich caparisons  or trappings gay  ?

He sees his love and nothing else he sees,

For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Look when a painter would surpass the life

In limning out  a well-proportioned steed,

His art with nature's workmanship at strife,

As if the dead the living should exceed:

So did this horse excel a common one

In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone  .

Round-hoofed, short-jointed, fetlocks  shag  and long,

Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,

High crest  , short ears, straight legs and passing  strong,

Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:

Look what a horse should have he did not lack,

Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

Sometime he scuds  far off and there he stares,

Anon he starts at stirring of a feather:

To bid the wind a base  he now prepares,

And where  he run or fly they know not whether:

For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,

Fanning the hairs, who  wave like feathered wings.

He looks upon his love and neighs unto her,

She answers him as if she knew his mind:

Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,

She puts on outward strangeness  , seems unkind  ,

Spurns at  his love and scorns the heat he feels,

Beating his kind embracements  with her heels  .

Then, like a melancholy malcontent,

He vails  his tail  that like a falling plume 

Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent.

He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume  :

His love, perceiving how he was enraged,

Grew kinder and his fury was assuaged.

His testy  master goeth about to take him,

When, lo, the unbacked  breeder  , full of fear,

Jealous of catching  , swiftly doth forsake  him,

With her the horse, and left Adonis there:

As  they were mad, unto the wood  they hie them  ,

Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them.

All swoll'n with chafing  , down Adonis sits,

Banning  his boist'rous and unruly beast;

And now the happy season once more fits 

That lovesick love  by pleading may be blest:

For lovers say the heart hath treble wrong

When it is barred the aidance  of the tongue.

An oven that is stopped  or river stayed 

Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:

So  of concealèd sorrow may be said

Free vent  of words love's fire doth assuage,

But when the heart's attorney  once is mute,

The client  breaks  , as  desperate in his suit  .

He sees her coming and begins to glow,

Even as a dying coal revives with wind,

And with his bonnet  hides his angry brow,

Looks on the dull earth with disturbèd mind,

Taking no notice that she is so nigh  ,

For all askance he holds her in his eye  .

O, what a sight it was, wistly  to view

How she came stealing to the wayward  boy,

To note the fighting conflict of her hue,

How white and red each other did destroy:

But  now her cheek was pale and by and by

It flashed forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

Now was she just before  him as he sat,

And like a lowly lover down she kneels,

With one fair hand she heaveth  up his hat,

Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:

His tend'rer cheek receives her soft hand's print,

As apt  as new-fall'n snow takes any dint  .

O, what a war of looks was then between them,

Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing  ,

His eyes saw her eyes, as  they had not seen them,

Her eyes wooed still, his eyes disdained the wooing:

And all this dumb play  had his  acts made plain 

With tears, which chorus-like  her eyes did rain.

Full  gently now she takes him by the hand,

A lily prisoned  in a jail  of snow,

Or ivory in an alabaster band  ,

So white a friend engirts  so white a foe:

This beauteous combat, wilful  and unwilling,

Showed like two silver doves that sit a-billing  .

Once more the engine  of her thoughts began,

'O fairest mover  on this mortal round  ,

Would thou wert  as I am, and I a man,

My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound  ,

For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee  ,

Though nothing but my body's bane  would cure thee.'

'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?'

'Give me my heart', saith she, 'and thou shalt have it.

O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel  it,

And being steeled, soft sighs can never grave  it.

Then love's deep groans I never shall regard  ,

Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'

'For shame!' he cries, 'Let go and let me go:

My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,

And 'tis your fault I am bereft  him so.

I pray you hence  and leave me here alone,

For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,

Is how to get my palfrey  from the mare.'

Thus she replies, 'Thy palfrey, as he should,

Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:

Affection  is a coal that must be cooled,

Else, suffered  , it will set the heart on fire.

The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none,

Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

'How like a jade  he stood, tied to the tree,

Servilely mastered with a leathern rein,

But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee  ,

He held such petty bondage in disdain,

Throwing the base thong  from his bending crest  ,

Enfranchising  his mouth, his back, his breast.

'Who sees his true-love in her naked bed  ,

Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,

But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,

His other agents  aim at like  delight?

Who is so faint  that dares not be so bold 

To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy,

And learn of  him, I heartily beseech thee,

To take advantage on  presented  joy.

Though  I were dumb, yet  his proceedings  teach thee.

O, learn to love: the lesson is but plain,

And once made perfect  , never lost again.'

'I know not love,' quoth  he, 'nor will not know it,

Unless it be a boar and then I chase it,

'Tis much to borrow and I will not owe  it.

My love to love is love but to disgrace it  ,

For I have heard it is a life in death,

That laughs and weeps and all but with a breath  .

'Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinished?

Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?

If springing  things be any jot diminished  ,

They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:

The colt that's backed and burdened  being young

Loseth his pride and never waxeth  strong.

'You hurt my hand with wringing, let us part

And leave this idle  theme, this bootless  chat.

Remove your siege from my unyielding heart:

To love's alarms  it will not ope  the gate.

Dismiss your vows, your feignèd tears, your flattery,

For where a heart is hard they make no battery  .'

'What, canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'Hast thou a tongue?

O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing.

Thy mermaid's  voice hath done me double wrong:

I had my load before, now pressed  with bearing:

Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding,

Ear's deep-sweet music and heart's deep-sore wounding.

'Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love

That inward beauty and invisible  ,

Or were I deaf, thy outward parts  would move 

Each part in me that were but sensible  :

Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,

Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

'Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me,

And that I could not see nor hear nor touch,

And nothing but the very smell were left me,

Yet would my love to thee be still as much:

For from the stillatory  of thy face excelling 

Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by smelling.

'But O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,

Being nurse and feeder of the other four  .

Would they not wish the feast might ever last

And bid suspicion  double-lock the door,

Lest jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,

Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?'

Once more the ruby-coloured portal  opened,

Which to his speech did honey passage yield,

Like a red morn that ever yet betokened

Wrack  to the seaman, tempest to the field,

Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,

Gusts and foul flaws  to herdmen and to herds.

This ill presage  advisedly  she marketh  ,

Even as the wind is hushed before it raineth,

Or as the wolf doth grin  before he barketh,

Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,

Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,

His meaning struck her ere  his words begun.

And at his look she flatly  falleth down,

For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth:

A smile recures  the wounding of a frown.

But blessèd bankrupt that by love  so thriveth  ,

The silly boy, believing she is dead,

Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red,

And all amazed brake off his late intent  ,

For sharply he did think to reprehend her,

Which cunning  love did wittily  prevent:

Fair fall  the wit that can so well defend her!

For on the grass she lies as she were slain,

Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

He wrings  her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,

He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,

He chafes her lips: a thousand ways he seeks

To mend the hurt that his unkindness marred.

He kisses her and she, by her good will,

Will never rise, so he will kiss her still  .

The night of sorrow now is turned to day.

Her two blue windows  faintly she upheaveth,

Like the fair sun when in his fresh array

He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth:

And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,

So is her face illumined with her eye,

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fixed,

As if from thence they borrowed all their shine.

Were never four such lamps together mixed,

Had not his clouded with his brow's repine  ,

But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,

Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

'O, where am I?' quoth she, 'In earth or heaven,

Or in the ocean drenched  or in the fire?

What hour is this? Or  morn or weary even?

Do I delight to die or life desire?

But now I lived and life was death's annoy  ,

But now I died and death was lively joy.

'O, thou didst kill me! Kill me once again!

Thy eyes' shrewd  tutor, that hard heart of thine,

Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain

That they have murdered this poor heart of mine,

And these mine eyes, true leaders  to their queen,

But  for thy piteous  lips no more had seen.

'Long may they kiss each other for this cure!

O, never let their crimson liveries  wear  ,

And as they last, their verdure  still endure

To drive infection from the dangerous year

That the star-gazers  , having writ on death,

May say the plague  is banished by thy breath.

'Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted  ,

What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?

To sell myself  I can be well contented,

So  thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing  ,

Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips 

Set thy seal-manual  on my wax-red lips.

'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me,

And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.

What is ten hundred touches  unto thee?

Are they not quickly told  and quickly gone?

Say for non-payment that the debt should double,

Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?'

'Fair queen  ,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe  me,

Measure my strangeness with  my unripe years,

Before I know  myself, seek not to know me.

No fisher but the ungrown fry  forbears  :

The mellow  plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,

Or being early plucked is sour to taste.

'Look, the world's comforter  with weary gait

His day's hot task hath ended in the west,

The owl, night's herald, shrieks  , 'tis very late,

The sheep are gone to fold  , birds to their nest,

And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light

Do summon us to part and bid good night.

'Now let me say ''Goodnight'', and so say you:

If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.'

'Goodnight', quoth she and ere he says 'Adieu'

The honey fee of parting tendered  is.

Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace:

Incorp'rate  then they seem, face grows to face,

Till, breathless, he disjoined  and backward drew

The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,

Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,

Whereon they surfeit  , yet complain on drouth  :

He with her plenty  pressed  , she faint with dearth  ,

Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,

And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth.

Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,

Paying what ransom the insulter  willeth,

Whose vulture  thought doth pitch  the price so high

That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry.

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil  ,

With blindfold fury she begins to forage  :

Her face doth reek  and smoke  , her blood doth boil,

And careless  lust stirs up a desperate courage,

Planting oblivion  , beating reason back,

Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack  .

Hot, faint and weary, with her hard embracing,

Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling,

Or as the fleet-foot roe  that's tired with chasing  ,

Or like the froward  infant stilled with dandling  ,

He now obeys and now no more resisteth,

While she takes all she can, not all she listeth  .

What wax so  frozen but dissolves with temp'ring  ,

And yields at last to every light impression?

Things out of hope  are compassed  oft with vent'ring  ,

Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission  :

Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward,

But then woos best, when most his choice  is froward.

When he did frown, O, had she then gave over  ,

Such nectar from his lips she had not sucked.

Foul  words and frowns must not repel a lover:

What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis plucked  !

Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast  ,

Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

For pity now she can no more detain him:

The poor fool prays her that he may depart.

She is resolved no longer to  restrain him,

Bids him farewell and look well to her heart,

The which, by Cupid  's bow she doth protest  ,

He carries thence incagèd in his breast.

'Sweet boy,' she says, 'this night I'll waste  in sorrow,

For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch  .

Tell me, love's master, shall we meet tomorrow?

Say, shall we? Shall we? Wilt thou make the match  ?'

He tells her, 'No', tomorrow he intends

To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.

'The boar?' quoth she, whereat a sudden pale,

Like lawn  being spread upon the blushing rose,

Usurps her cheek: she trembles at his tale

And on his neck her yoking  arms she throws.

She sinketh down still hanging by his neck,

He on her belly falls, she on her back.

Now is she in the very lists  of love,

Her champion  mounted  for the hot encounter  :

All is imaginary she doth prove  ,

He will not manage  her, although he mount her,

That  worse than Tantalus  ' is her annoy,

To clip  Elysium  and to lack her joy.

Even so poor birds, deceived with painted grapes  ,

Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw  :

Even so she languisheth in her mishaps  ,

As those poor birds that helpless  berries saw.

The warm effects  , which she in him finds missing,

She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

But all in vain: good queen, it will not be.

She hath assayed  as much as may be proved  .

Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee:

She's love, she loves and yet she is not loved.

'Fie  , fie!' he says, 'You crush me! Let me go!

You have no reason to withhold me so.'

'Thou hadst  been gone', quoth she, 'sweet boy, ere this,

But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.

O, be advised  ! Thou know'st not what it is

With javelin's point a churlish  swine to gore,

Whose tushes  never sheathed he whetteth still  ,

Like to a mortal  butcher bent  to kill.

'On his bow-back  he hath a battle  set

Of bristly pikes  that ever threat his foes,

His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret  ,

His snout digs sepulchres  where'er he goes:

Being moved  , he strikes whate'er is in his way,

And whom he strikes, his crooked tushes slay.

'His brawny  sides with hairy bristles armed

Are better proof  than thy spear's point can enter,

His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed,

Being ireful  on the lion he will venture  :

The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,

As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

'Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,

To which love's eyes pays tributary  gazes,

Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne  ,

Whose full perfection all the world amazes,

But having thee at vantage  — wondrous dread! —

Would root  these beauties as he roots the mead  .

'O, let him keep his loathsome cabin  still:

Beauty hath nought to do with such foul  fiends.

Come not within his danger by thy will  :

They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.

When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble  ,

I feared thy fortune and my joints did tremble.

'Didst thou not mark my face? Was it not white?

Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?

Grew I not faint? And fell I not downright  ?

Within my bosom whereon thou dost lie,

My boding  heart pants, beats and takes no rest,

But like an earthquake shakes thee on my breast.

'For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy 

Doth call himself affection's sentinel  ,

Gives false alarms, suggesteth  mutiny,

And in a peaceful hour doth cry 'Kill, kill!'

Distemp'ring  gentle love in his desire,

As air and water do abate  the fire.

'This sour informer, this bate-breeding  spy,

This canker  that eats up love's tender spring  ,

This carry-tale  , dissentious  jealousy,

That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring,

Knocks at my heart and whispers in mine ear

That if I love thee, I thy death should fear,

'And more than so  , presenteth to mine eye

The picture of an angry, chafing boar,

Under whose sharp fangs on his  back doth lie

An image like thyself, all stained with gore,

Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed

Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

'What should I do, seeing thee so indeed  ,

That  tremble at th'imagination?

The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed,

And fear doth teach it divination  ;

I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,

If thou encounter with the boar tomorrow.

'But if thou needs wilt  hunt, be ruled by me,

Uncouple  at the timorous flying  hare,

Or at the fox which lives by subtlety  ,

Or at the roe  which no encounter  dare:

Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,

And on thy well-breathed  horse keep with thy hounds.

'And when thou hast on foot  the purblind  hare,

Mark the poor wretch: to overshoot  his troubles,

How he outruns the wind and with what care

He cranks and crosses  with a thousand doubles  .

The many musets  through the which he goes

Are like a labyrinth to amaze  his foes.

'Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep

To make the cunning  hounds mistake their smell,

And sometime where earth-delving conies  keep 

To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,

And sometime sorteth  with a herd of deer —

Danger deviseth shifts  , wit waits on  fear —

'For there his smell with others being mingled,

The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,

Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled

With much ado  the cold fault  cleanly out.

Then do they spend their mouths  : echo  replies,

As if another chase were in the skies.

'By this, poor Wat  , far off upon a hill,

Stands on his hinder legs with list'ning ear

To harken if his foes pursue him still.

Anon their loud alarums  he doth hear,

And now his grief may be comparèd well

To one sore  sick that hears the passing-bell  .

'Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled  wretch

Turn and return  , indenting  with the way.

Each envious  briar his weary legs do scratch,

Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:

For misery is trodden on by many

And, being low, never relieved  by any.

'Lie quietly and hear a little more —

Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise —

To make thee hate the hunting of the boar:

Unlike myself  thou hear'st me moralize  ,

Applying this to that and so to so —

For love can comment upon every woe.

'Where did I leave  ?' 'No matter where', quoth he,

'Leave me and then the story aptly  ends:

The night is spent.' 'Why, what of that?' quoth she.

'I am', quoth he, 'expected of  my friends,

And now 'tis dark and going I shall fall.'

'In night', quoth she, 'desire sees best of all.

'But if thou fall, O then imagine this,

The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,

And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.

Rich preys make true  men thieves: so do thy lips

Make modest Dian  cloudy and forlorn,

Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn  .

'Now of this dark night I perceive the reason  :

Cynthia  for shame obscures her silver shine,

Till forging  nature be condemned of treason

For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine,

Wherein she framed  thee, in high heaven's despite  ,

To shame the sun by day and her by night.

'And therefore hath she bribed the destinies 

To cross  the curious  workmanship of nature,

To mingle beauty with infirmities

And pure perfection with impure defeature  ,

Making it subject to the tyranny

Of mad mischances  and much misery,

'As burning fevers, agues  pale and faint,

Life-poisoning pestilence  and frenzies wood  ,

The marrow-eating sickness  whose attaint 

Disorder  breeds by heating of the blood  ,

Surfeits  , impostumes  , grief and damned despair:

Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair.

'And not the least of all these maladies

But in one minute's fight brings beauty under:

Both favour  , savour  , hue  and qualities,

Whereat th'impartial gazer late did wonder,

Are on the sudden wasted, thawed and done,

As mountain snow melts with the midday sun.

'Therefore, despite of fruitless  chastity,

Love-lacking vestals  and self-loving  nuns

That on the earth would breed a scarcity

And barren dearth  of daughters and of sons,

Be prodigal  : the lamp that burns by night

Dries up his oil  to lend the world his light.

'What is thy body but a swallowing grave,

Seeming to bury that posterity

Which by the rights of time thou needs must have,

If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity  ?

If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,

Sith  in thy pride  so fair a hope is slain  .

'So in thyself thyself art made away  ,

A mischief  worse than civil home-bred strife,

Or theirs whose desperate  hands themselves do slay  ,

Or butcher-sire  that reaves  his son of life:

Foul-cank'ring  rust the hidden treasure  frets  ,

But gold that's put to use  more gold begets.'

'Nay, then,' quoth Adon, 'you will fall  again

Into your idle over-handled  theme;

The kiss I gave you is bestowed in vain,

And all in vain you strive against the stream,

For, by this black-faced night, desire's foul  nurse,

Your treatise  makes me like you worse and worse.

'If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues,

And every tongue more moving  than your own,

Bewitching like the wanton  mermaids' songs,

Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown:

For know, my heart stands armèd in mine ear

And will not let a false sound enter there,

'Lest  the deceiving harmony should run

Into the quiet closure  of my breast,

And then my little heart were quite undone  ,

In his bedchamber to be barred of rest:

No, lady, no! My heart longs not to groan,

But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.

'What have you urged that I cannot reprove  ?

The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger:

I hate not love, but your device  in love

That lends embracements unto every stranger —

You do it for increase? O strange excuse,

When reason is the bawd  to lust's abuse!

'Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled,

Since sweating lust on earth usurped his name,

Under whose simple semblance  he hath fed

Upon fresh beauty, blotting  it with blame,

Which  the hot tyrant  stains  and soon bereaves  ,

As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

'Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,

But lust's effect is tempest after sun:

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,

Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done:

Love surfeits not, lust like a glutton dies:

Love is all truth, lust full of forgèd lies.

'More I could tell, but more I dare not say:

The text  is old, the orator too green  .

Therefore in sadness now I will away.

My face is full of shame, my heart of teen  ,

Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended,

Do burn themselves for having so offended.'

With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace

Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast

And homeward through the dark laund  runs apace  ,

Leaves love upon her back deeply distressed.

Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky,

So glides he in the night from Venus' eye  ,

Which after him she darts, as one on shore

Gazing upon a late-embarkèd  friend 

Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,

Whose ridges  with the meeting clouds contend  ;

So did the merciless and pitchy  night

Fold in  the object that did feed her sight.

Whereat amazed, as one that unaware

Hath dropped a precious jewel in the flood  ,

Or stonished  as night-wand'rers often are,

Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood,

Even so confounded  in the dark she lay,

Having lost the fair discovery of her way  .

And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,

That all the neighbour  caves, as seeming troubled,

Make verbal repetition of  her moans:

Passion  on passion deeply  is redoubled,

'Ay me!' she cries and twenty times, 'Woe, woe!'

And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

She, marking them, begins a wailing note

And sings extemporally  a woeful ditty:

How love makes young men thrall  and old men dote  ,

How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty.

Her heavy  anthem  still concludes in woe,

And still the choir of echoes answer so.

Her song was tedious and outwore the night,

For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short:

If pleased themselves, others, they think, delight

In suchlike circumstance, with suchlike sport:

Their copious  stories, oftentimes begun,

End without audience and are never done.

For who hath she to spend the night withal 

But idle sounds resembling parasites  ,

Like shrill-tongued tapsters  answering every call,

Soothing the humour  of fantastic wits  ?

She says ''Tis so'. They answer all ''Tis so',

And would say after her, if she said 'No'.

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,

From his moist cabinet  mounts up on high

And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast

The sun ariseth in his majesty,

Who doth the world so gloriously behold

That cedar tops and hills seem burnished gold.

Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow,

'O thou clear  god and patron of all light,

From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow

The beauteous influence  that makes him bright,

There lives a son  that sucked an earthly mother

May  lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.'

This said, she hasteth to a myrtle  grove,

Musing the morning is so much o'erworn  ,

And yet she hears no tidings of her love.

She hearkens  for his hounds and for his horn:

Anon she hears them chant it lustily,

And all in haste she coasteth  to the cry  .

And as she runs, the bushes in the way

Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,

Some twined about her thigh to make her stay.

She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace

Like a milch doe  , whose swelling dugs  do ache,

Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake  .

By this she hears the hounds are at a bay  ,

Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder

Wreathed up in fatal folds  just in his way,

The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder:

Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds

Appals  her senses and her spirit confounds  .

For now she knows it is no gentle chase  ,

But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,

Because the cry remaineth in one place,

Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:

Finding their enemy to be so curst  ,

They all strain court'sy  who shall cope  him first.

This dismal  cry rings sadly in her ear,

Through which it enters to surprise  her heart,

Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,

With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part:

Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,

They basely fly  and dare not stay the field  .

Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy  ,

Till, cheering up her senses all dismayed,

She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy

And childish error that they are afraid,

Bids  them leave quaking, bids them fear no more—

And with that word she spied the hunted boar,

Whose frothy  mouth, bepainted all with red,

Like milk and blood being mingled both together,

A second fear through all her sinews  spread,

Which madly hurries her she knows not whither.

This way runs and now she will no further,

But back retires to rate  the boar for murther  .

A thousand spleens  bear her a thousand ways,

She treads the path that she untreads again.

Her more than haste is mated  with delays,

Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,

Full of respects  , yet naught at all respecting  ,

In hand  with all things, naught at all effecting.

Here kennelled in a brake she finds a hound

And asks the weary caitiff  for his master,

And there another licking of his wound,

Gainst venomed sores the only sovereign plaster  .

And here she meets another, sadly scowling,

To whom she speaks and he replies with howling.

When he hath ceased his ill-resounding  noise,

Another flap-mouthed  mourner, black and grim,

Against the welkin  volleys out his voice  .

Another and another answer him,

Clapping  their proud tails to the ground below,

Shaking their scratched ears, bleeding as they go.

Look, how the world's poor people are amazed

At apparitions, signs and prodigies  ,

Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed,

Infusing  them with dreadful  prophecies:

So she at these sad signs draws up  her breath

And, sighing it again, exclaims on  death.

'Hard-favoured  tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean,

Hateful divorce  of love' — thus chides she Death —

'Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm  , what dost thou mean

To stifle beauty and to steal his breath,

Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set

Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet?

'If he be dead — O no, it cannot be,

Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it!

O yes, it may! Thou hast no eyes  to see,

But hatefully at random dost thou hit:

Thy mark  is feeble age, but thy false dart 

Mistakes that aim and cleaves  an infant's heart.

'Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had  spoke,

And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power —

The destinies will curse thee for this stroke —

They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower:

Love's golden arrow  at him should have fled  ,

And not death's ebon  dart to strike him dead.

'Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping?

What may a heavy  groan advantage thee?

Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping

Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?

Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour  ,

Since her best work is ruined with thy rigour  .'

Here overcome as one full of despair,

She vailed  her eyelids who  like sluices  stopped

The crystal tide  that from her two cheeks fair

In the sweet channel of her bosom dropped,

But through the floodgates breaks the silver rain

And with his strong course  opens them again.

O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow  :

Her eye seen in the tears, tears in her eye,

Both crystals  , where they viewed each other's sorrow,

Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry,

But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,

Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

Variable  passions  throng  her constant woe

As striving who should best become  her grief:

All entertained  , each passion labours so 

That every present sorrow seemeth chief,

But none is best. Then join they all together

Like many clouds consulting for  foul weather.

By this  , far off she hears some huntsman hollo  .

A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well:

The dire imagination  she did follow

This sound of hope doth labour to expel,

For now reviving joy bids her rejoice

And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,

Being prisoned in her eye like pearls in glass,

Yet sometimes falls an orient  drop beside,

Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass

To wash the foul  face of the sluttish  ground,

Who is but drunken when she seemeth drowned.

O hard-believing  love, how strange it seems

Not to believe and yet too credulous!

Thy weal  and woe are both of them extremes,

Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous:

The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,

In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought  :

Adonis lives and Death is not to blame.

It was not she that called him all to naught  ,

Now she adds honours to his hateful name:

She clepes  him king of graves and grave for kings,

Imperious supreme  of all mortal things.

'No, no,' quoth she, 'sweet Death, I did but jest,

Yet pardon me I felt a kind of fear

Whenas  I met the boar, that bloody beast,

Which knows no pity, but is still severe  :

Then, gentle shadow  — truth I must confess —

I railed on  thee, fearing my love's decease.

''Tis not my fault, the boar provoked my tongue:

Be wreaked  on him, invisible commander,

'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong —

I did but act  , he's author of thy slander.

Grief hath two tongues and never woman yet

Could rule them both without ten women's wit.'

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,

Her rash suspect  she doth extenuate  ,

And that his beauty may the better thrive,

With death she humbly doth insinuate  ,

Tells him of trophies  , statues, tombs and stories,

His victories, his triumphs and his glories.

'O Jove  ,' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I

To be of such a weak and silly mind

To wail his death who lives and must not die

Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind  !

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,

And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

'Fie, fie, fond  love, thou art as full of fear

As one with treasure laden, hemmed with  thieves:

Trifles, unwitnessèd with eye or ear,

Thy coward heart with false bethinking  grieves.'

Even at this word she hears a merry horn,

Whereat she leaps that was but late  forlorn.

As falcons to the lure  , away she flies,

The grass stoops not she treads on it so light,

And in her haste unfortunately  spies

The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight,

Which seen, her eyes, are murdered with the view,

Like stars ashamed of day, themselves withdrew,

Or as the snail, whose tender horns being hit,

Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,

And there, all smothered up, in shade doth sit,

Long after fearing to creep forth again:

So at his bloody view her eyes are fled

Into the deep dark cabins  of her head,

Where they resign their office  and their light

To the disposing  of her troubled brain,

Who bids them still  consort with ugly night

And never wound the heart with looks again,

Who  , like a king perplexèd  in his throne,

By their suggestion  gives a deadly groan,

Whereat each tributary subject  quakes,

As when the wind, imprisoned in the ground  ,

Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,

Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound  .

This mutiny each part doth so surprise 

That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes,

And, being opened, threw unwilling light 

Upon the wide wound that the boar had trenched 

In his soft flank  , whose wonted  lily white

With purple  tears, that his wound wept, had drenched.

No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf or weed,

But stole  his blood and seemed with him to bleed.

This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth.

Over one shoulder doth she hang her head,

Dumbly she passions  , franticly she doteth  ,

She thinks he could not die, he is not dead:

Her voice is stopped, her joints forget to bow  ,

Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now  .

Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly

That her sight dazzling  makes the wound seem three,

And then she reprehends her mangling  eye

That makes more gashes where no breach should be:

His face seems twain, each several  limb is doubled,

For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

'My tongue cannot express my grief for one,

And yet', quoth she, 'behold two Adons dead!

My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,

Mine eyes are turned to fire, my heart to lead.

Heavy heart's lead melt at mine eyes' red fire!

So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

'Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!

What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?

Whose tongue is music now? What canst thou boast

Of things long since, or any thing ensuing?

The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim  ,

But true sweet beauty lived and died with him.

'Bonnet  nor veil henceforth no creature wear!

Nor sun nor  wind will ever strive to kiss you,

Having no fair  to lose, you need not fear:

The sun doth scorn you and the wind doth hiss you,

But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air

Lurked like two thieves to rob him of his fair,

'And therefore would he put his bonnet on,

Under whose brim the gaudy  sun would peep.

The wind would blow it off and, being gone,

Play with his locks, then would Adonis weep,

And straight  , in pity of his tender years,

They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

'To see his face the lion walked along

Behind some hedge because he would not fear  him.

To recreate himself when he hath sung  ,

The tiger would be tame and gently hear him.

If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey

And never fright the silly  lamb that day.

'When he beheld his shadow  in the brook,

The fishes spread on it their golden gills,

When he was by  , the birds such pleasure took

That some would sing, some other in their bills

Would bring him mulberries and ripe red cherries:

He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

'But this foul  , grim and urchin-snouted  boar,

Whose downward  eye still  looketh for a grave,

Ne'er saw the beauteous livery  that he wore:

Witness the entertainment that he gave.

If he did see his face, why then I know

He thought to kiss him and hath killed him so.

''Tis true, 'tis true! Thus was Adonis slain:

He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear,

Who did not whet  his teeth at him again 

But by a kiss thought to persuade him there  ,

And, nuzzling  in his  flank, the loving swine

Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin.

'Had I been toothed like him, I must confess,

With kissing him I should have killed him first,

But he is dead and never did he bless

My youth with his — the more am I accurst.'

With this, she falleth in the place she stood

And stains her face with his congealèd blood.

She looks upon his lips and they are pale,

She takes him by the hand and that is cold

She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,

As if they heard the woeful words she told.

She lifts the coffer-lids   that close his eyes,

Where, lo, two lamps burnt out in darkness lies:

Two glasses  , where herself herself beheld

A thousand times and now no more reflect,

Their virtue  lost wherein they late excelled,

And every beauty robbed of his  effect.

'Wonder of time,' quoth she, 'this is my spite,

That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.

'Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy

Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:

It shall be waited on with jealousy,

Find sweet beginning but unsavoury end,

Ne'er settled equally, but high or low  ,

That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

'It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud,

Bud and be blasted  in a breathing while  ,

The bottom poison and the top o'erstrawed 

With sweets  that shall the truest sight beguile  :

The strongest body shall it make most weak,

Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

'It shall be sparing  and too full of riot  ,

Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures  .

The staring  ruffian shall it keep in quiet,

Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures.

It shall be raging mad and silly  mild,

Make the young old, the old become a child.

'It shall suspect where is  no cause of fear,

It shall not fear where it should most mistrust,

It shall be merciful and too severe,

And most deceiving when it seems most just  ,

Perverse  it shall be where it shows most toward  ,

Put fear to  valour, courage to the coward.

'It shall be cause of war and dire events

And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire  ,

Subject and servile to all discontents  ,

As dry combustious  matter is to fire:

Sith  in his prime death doth my love destroy,

They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.'

By this, the boy that by her side lay killed

Was melted like a vapour from her sight,

And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled,

A purple  flower sprung up, chequered with white,

Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood

Which in round drops upon their whiteness tood.

She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,

Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,

And says within her bosom it shall dwell,

Since he himself is reft  from her by death.

She crops the stalk and in the breach  appears

Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy father's guise  ,

Sweet issue  of a more sweet-smelling sire,

For every little grief to wet his eyes.

To grow unto himself  was his desire,

And so 'tis thine: but know, it is as good

To wither in my breast as in his blood.

'Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast,

Thou art the next of blood  , and 'tis thy right.

Lo, in this hollow cradle  take thy rest,

My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night.

There shall not be one minute in an hour

Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.'

Thus weary of the world, away she hies 

And yokes her silver doves, by whose swift aid

Their mistress, mounted, through the empty skies

In her light chariot quickly is conveyed,

Holding their course to Paphos  , where their queen

Means to immure  herself and not be seen.

她巧言道：“你比我还美丽三倍，

你乃花中魁首，有无比的芳菲，

你让宁芙  失色，你比壮男俊美，

你洁白赛银鸽，你嫣红盖玫瑰，

那为显绝艺而创造你的‘造化’

说你一旦夭亡则天地万物共毁。

“你这造化之奇观，请屈尊下马，

把高昂的马头于鞍穹上紧系；

你若肯俯允此愿，我将给你报赏，

让你领略鲜为人知的风流奥秘。

来这边坐吧，这儿没咝咝蛇鸣，

坐稳后我要吻得你气喘吁吁。

“但我不会让你的嘴唇感觉到腻烦，

而要让它们吻得越多越饥渴难抑，

叫它们随着花样翻新而忽红忽白：

十短吻如一吻，一长吻如二十。

在这种欢娱的消遣之中打发光阴，

漫长的炎炎夏日也显得转瞬即逝。”

说话间她把他冒汗的手掌捉牢，

他手掌出汗说明他正值青春年少，

春心荡漾的爱神将此唤作香膏，

人世间治女神相思病的灵丹妙药。

如此意乱心迷，情欲给她力量，

她大胆伸手把少年拽下了鞍桥。

爱神一手挽住那匹骏马的缰绳，

一手把不谙世故的少年搂定。

少年轻蔑地绷着羞红的脸庞，

宛若呆木顽石，无意风流调情；

女神脸红心热像炉中熊熊炭火，

少年面红耳赤但心却凝霜结冰。

爱多敏捷哟！她身手迅疾，

把有饰钉的辔头拴在了一根粗枝；

骏马一旦被拴好她便开始尝试

要把骏马的主人也拴牢缚实。

她按自己喜欢的方式把他摁倒，

用体力把他制服，既然难用魅力。

少年刚刚倒地她便躺倒在他身旁，

双双用胳膊肘支撑侧卧在地上。

她一摸他的脸颊他就皱眉蹙额，

他一开口责骂就被她的热吻阻挡，

她一边亲吻一边吐出娇声浪语：

“你要是再骂我就教你有口难张。”

他羞得满脸通红，两腮似火烧，

她用眼泪把他滚烫的脸腮浇冷，

再用她风一般的叹息和金色秀发

把滴在他脸上的泪珠吹干拂净。

他说她轻狂佻薄，骂她厚颜无耻，

可她一个热吻堵住了他的骂声。

就好像一只饥肠辘辘的飞鹰

用利喙撕食它捕获的猎物，

拍着翅膀连毛带骨一并吞咽，

要么吃个精光，要么撑肠拄腹。

爱神就这般狂吻那英俊少年，

从腮吻到额顶，从额到腮骨。

他被迫逆来顺受，但却吻不由衷，

口中喘出的气息直扑她的面孔。

爱神像吞咽美食一般吸入这香气，

把它视为天降膏泽、自然清风，

她唯愿自己的双颊是萋萋花园，

只要这花园能浸润在这甘霖之中。

恰似一只小鸟被罗网缠住，

阿多尼此刻陷在爱神的怀抱。

羞涩和怯于反抗令他焦灼，

焦灼的目光使他更显美貌。

满满当当的大河再注入豪雨，

势必会溢出河堤，泛滥成涝。

她依然楚楚动人地苦苦哀求，

要对那双迷人的耳朵谈情说爱；

他依然皱眉蹙额，焦灼不安，

羞涩和恼怒使他的脸忽红忽白。

可他的脸红令她越发动情，

他的脸白更让她爱得死去活来。

不管他脸色如何，她都难抑春心，

于是她凭不朽的玉手立下誓言，

说她决不会离开他柔软的怀抱，

除非他同她夺眶而出的泪水休战，

那澜澜泪雨早湿了她的两腮，

而他甜甜一吻即可把这情债偿还。

他闻此誓言立即仰起面孔，

像只潜水的把头探出水面，

见有人窥视又突然潜入水中；

他就这样试图了却她的心愿，

可当她举唇等待他的给予，

他却两眼一闭把嘴掉向一边。

炎炎夏日里口干舌燥的旅客

也不曾像她对此良机这般焦渴。

能望见清泉，但可望而不可即，

浸泡在水中，但泪水难熄欲火。

她哭诉道：“可怜我吧，狠心少年，

我只求一吻，你干吗这般羞涩？

“像我求你一样，我也曾被人追求，

追求者中甚至有威风凛凛的战神，

疆场上他不曾低过倔强的头颅，

他从来都所向披靡，战无不胜，

但他一直是我的俘虏，我的奴隶，

向我求过你能不求而获的亲吻。

“他的利矛、巨盾和羽饰头盔

都曾一度闲挂在我祭坛之上，

他为我之故而学会了歌舞嬉戏，

学会了打情骂俏和风流放荡，

他摈弃了咚咚战鼓和猩红旌旗，

在我床上扎营，把玉臂当战场。

“威风八面的他就这样被我降伏，

一根红玫瑰合欢链就把他俘虏；

再硬的钢铁也顺从他强劲的臂力，

他却顺从于我对他的扭捏和轻辱。

可你别因征服了降服战神的她，

就为自己的魅力而骄傲，而自负。

“你只消把芳唇印在我的唇上——

我的唇也红艳，虽不及你的香——

此吻能让我销魂，也可令你荡魄。

你干吗老往地上瞅？请抬起脸庞，

朝我眼里看，那儿藏着你的美；

既然眼能成对，唇为何不能成双？

“你羞于接吻？那就再闭上双眼，

我也闭目，让白昼像夜晚一般。

只要有一男一女，爱就常葆欢乐；

放心玩吧，咱俩欢娱没有人看见。

我们身下的紫罗兰绝不会多嘴，

它们也不懂咱俩为何如此这般。

“你唇上的茸毛说明你尚年幼，

但你已有美味可尝，秀色可餐。

及时行乐吧，莫负良辰美景，

美不该被荒废，天物不应被暴殄。

明媚鲜妍的娇花若不及时采摘，

转眼便叶残英落，红消香断。

“倘若我相貌丑陋，白发黄牙，

性情粗野，行为乖戾，声音沙哑，

百病缠身，精竭髓尽，毫不性感，

骨瘦如柴，先天不育，老眼昏花，

那你可以退缩，因我配不上你，

但我本无瑕白璧，你为何厌咱？

“你在我额上看不见一丝皱纹，

我眼睛秋波荡漾，灼灼晶晶；

我的美就像是永远不败的春天，

我肌肤丰润，心中荡漾春情，

你要是摸摸我这柔嫩光滑的手，

只恐它会融化在你的掌心。

“请容我说，我嗓音悦耳动听，

我会像仙女在绿草地上舞姿迷人，

或像一位披着蓬松长发的宁芙， 

在沙滩上起舞却不留下足印。

爱是一种完全由火构成的精神，

不会重浊下坠，只会轻灵上升。 

“请看这片我躺于其上的樱草，

娇弱的花儿犹如大树把我轻托；

两只鸽子  就能拉着我漫游天空，

从早到晚，不论我上哪儿去寻乐；

爱是如此地轻灵，可爱的少年，

你怎能视它为不堪承受的重荷？

“难道你的心会把你的脸蛋爱慕？

难道你右手能把你的左手追求？

那就向自己求爱吧，再拒绝自己；

偷走自己的自由，再埋怨小偷。

那喀索斯  就曾这样自我毁弃，

为亲吻他溪水中的倒影而把命丢。

“火炬是为照明，珠宝是为佩戴， 

佳肴是为品尝，美貌是为欢爱，

花草芬芳而生，树木果实而长；

物若为生而生，是对生长的伤害。

种子生于种子，而美则繁衍美；

父母给予的美你应该传给后代。

“你若不为大地之生息而繁衍，

你何以该享天地灵气，日月精华？

依自然法则你必须繁衍后代，

这样你的美方可于你身后留下；

纵然面对死神你仍可幸免于死，

因你留下了风姿如玉，容貌如花。”

害相思病的爱神这时开始出汗，

因为他们俩躺的地方阴影已挪移，

太阳神在炎炎正午也感到疲乏，

正用他滚烫的目光把他俩俯视，

他真希望阿多尼替他驭驾马车， 

自己则像阿多尼与爱神相偎相依。

而此时阿多尼仍然没精打采，

满脸阴沉，忧心忡忡，郁郁寡欢，

紧锁的眉头锁住清澈的目光，

似愁云惨雾把朗朗晴空遮掩，

他怒然吼道：“别再谈情说爱！

我得离去，太阳正灼我的脸。”

“哟，”爱神说，“你年少却心狠，

竟用这般牵强的借口以图脱身！

我会叹口仙气，让徐徐微风

把西去骄阳的炎热吹凉吹冷；

我要用这头秀发为你支起凉篷，

若头发被晒热，我就用泪来浇浸。

“天上的太阳只是在暖烘烘照耀，

瞧我正在日头下为你遮住烘烤；

太阳的炽热对我并没有多大伤害，

可你眼中的火焰却在把我灼烧，

我若非不朽的女神，早一命呜呼，

天上地下两轮赤日早把我烤焦。

“难道你是如钢似铁的一块顽石？

不！因再硬的石块也会被水滴穿。

你由女人所生却不懂爱为何物？

不知欲爱不能是何等苦不堪言？

唉，要是你母亲也这样守身如玉，

她就不会生你，会死得很凄惨。 

“你把我当何人，竟这般藐视？

我向你求爱对你究竟有什么危险？

区区一吻对你的嘴唇又有何妨？

你说话呀，说恭维话，否则勿言。

赐我一吻吧，我将回报你一吻，

若我吻两下，多一吻算你白赚。

“咄！你这画中虚影，冰冷石雕，

徒有其表的泥胎，呆板的塑像，

一尊好看却毫不中用的木偶，

形同须眉但不像是由女人生养！

你虽有一副男儿相貌却并非男儿，

因男儿对红唇热吻都心驰神往。”

话说到此焦躁使得她语哽声咽，

沸腾的热望使得她有口难张，

脸上嫣红眼中欲火道出其难堪：

本司风情月债却情债不得偿。

她忽而潸然落泪，忽而嗫嚅欲言，

抽抽噎噎使她难以尽述衷肠。

她忽而把头摇，忽而拉他的手，

忽而抬眼望他，忽而又低头垂眸；

忽而张开双臂把他紧紧拥抱，

可他却不愿被她那双玉臂扣留；

每当他挣扎着要从她的香怀脱身，

她百合花般的纤指却紧如锁扣。

“小傻瓜，”她说，“既然我把你

关在了这道象牙般的围栏之内，

我就是一座鹿苑，你是我的鹿： 

你可上山峰吃草，或下幽谷饮水；

请先上这唇坡，但若嫌坡高地燥，

请往下进深沟，那儿涌泉甘美。

“这鹿苑内的地形地貌足够多样，

有长满草的低谷，有可爱的平地，

隆起的圆圆山丘和郁郁丛林

能为你抵挡狂风，替你阻断暴雨；

做我的鹿吧，这鹿苑这般美好，

纵有千只猎犬咆哮也惊不了你。”

阿多尼闻言一笑，似心存鄙夷，

微笑使一对浅浅的酒窝闪现依稀；

这迷人的酒窝本是小爱神  造就，

为他死后能有这般无华的墓地，

但可以预见，即便他躺进这里，

他将在这儿永生，而绝不会死去。

这对可爱的酒窝，迷人的笑靥，

张着大口要让维纳斯坠入其中。

她早已神魂颠倒，现在怎能自持？

早已落花流水，怎经再次进攻？

可怜的爱神哟，你这是作法自毙，

偏爱这副对你不屑一顾的面孔！

现在她何路可走？何语可言？

该说的都已说罢，可忧愁更添；

时辰飞逝，她心上人要离去，

正在奋力要挣脱她双臂的羁绊。

她哀求道：“请稍稍怜香惜玉！”

他却一跃而起，欲牵马正鞍。

可是，瞧哟，从附近的矮树林中

闪出一匹正在发情的矫健牝马，

它一见阿多尼那匹骏足良驹，

便喷着响鼻奔来，嘶声喧哗。

那骏马本来被拴在一棵树上，

现在却挣断缰绳直端端迎向它。

它急不可耐地跳跃，长鸣嘶嘶，

挣断了紧编密织的肚带絷累；

它坚硬的铁蹄踏伤了身下大地，

空洞的地心发出回响，声震如雷；

它咬碎了横在齿间的锻铁嚼子，

摆脱了所有束缚它的缰绳鞍辔。

它本来耷拉着耳朵和长长的细鬃，

现在却两耳竖立，鬃毛也高耸，

它鼻孔吸入的本来是新鲜空气，

呼出的却像炉中浓烟，雾气腾腾；

它那双犹如火焰般闪烁的眼睛，

显示出强烈欲望和一腔春情。

它忽而蹀躞缓行，像从容数步，

威风而不失优雅，骄傲中有谦恭；

忽而又后腿直立，腾空跳跃，

仿佛说：“这显示出我力大无穷；

我如此这般是要俘虏那双眼睛，

叫那美丽的牝马对我一见钟情。”

它还操心什么主人的愤怒不安？

还理会什么“吁吁”之声声呼喊？

还害怕什么嚼子和尖尖马刺？

还在乎什么马衣漂亮，辔头鲜艳？

它眼中只有它所爱，至于其他，

它那双骄傲的眼睛全都视而不见。

正如有位丹青能手、画坛大家，

其艺可谓巧夺天工，出神入化，

他绘出的骕骦皆骨肉匀停，

画就的良驹往往胜过天生骏马； 

眼前这匹马就这般超凡脱俗，

无论其形态、风骨、色泽、步伐。

蹄圆，骹短，肢长，距毛蓬松，

胸阔，颅小，鼻宽，目光炯炯，

脊高，耳短，腿直，筋骨健壮，

鬃细，尾浓，臀阔，皮毛茸茸；

良驹应具备的优点它一样不缺，

只差位英武的骑手跨骥骑龙。

它忽而飞奔到远处又回首凝视，

忽而惊于一只小鸟被它惊动；

忽然间它又欲与清风比比赛跑，

而谁也看不出它是奔跑还是飞腾，

清风呼呼地穿过它的细鬃浓尾，

使它的鬃毛犹如翅膀起伏波动。

它凝视着它之所爱，朝其嘶鸣，

牝马也报以长嘶，似懂它的心意，

又如一名矜持的淑女见人求爱，

便佯作忸怩之态，假装薄情寡义，

不理它的求爱，讥讽它的痴心，

并尥蹶子把它亲热的拥抱回拒。

像一个情场失意者意懒心灰，

它耷拉下那条羽饰般的长尾，

为它发烧的臀部送去一片阴凉。

恼怒中它甚至想把苍蝇踩碎，

牝马见它发怒才略表柔情，

它愤怒的心因此得到稍许安慰。

它气急败坏的主人欲上前牵它，

却吓坏了那匹没人骑过的牝马，

牝马唯恐被捉，便弃它而逃，

它紧追而去，把主人阿多尼撇下。

两匹马像发疯一般冲向树林，

追过了一群想追过它们的乌鸦。

怒气冲冲的阿多尼猛坐到地上，

大骂他那头不服管束的畜生；

这下时机再一次对维纳斯有利，

她也许可凭哀求得到幸运，

因恋人们常说：若无伶牙俐齿，

爱心会倍受委屈，蒙冤抱恨。

被淤塞的河流会更加汹涌，

被关上炉门的火炉会烧得更旺，

因此若能宣泄心中的积郁，

升腾的情焰欲火才可能下降，

但若是爱的辩护者一旦沉默，

欲辩无口的心就只有绝望。

他见她走来不由得又面红耳赤，

恰如余烬被风吹又死灰复燃；

他用帽子遮住他气得通红的面孔，

怀着不安的心情盯着地面，

压根儿没注意她已离得多近，

因为他始终没有朝她正眼一看。

哦，好好看看那是一幅什么奇观，

看她怎样悄悄走近那任性少年，

看她脸上的颜色如何急剧地变化，

嫣红和煞白是怎样相互遮掩！

方才她的双颊还蒙着一层死灰，

忽而又闪出红光，犹如长空闪电。

现在她恰好已来到他的身边，

像一位卑恭的情人跪在他跟前，

用一只柔嫩的手揭开他的帽子，

另一只手则轻轻抚摩他的脸；

他的脸更柔嫩，如新雪皎皎易污，

纤纤玉手也把指印留在了上面。

哦，当时好一场四目相交之争！

她含情的眸子对他的眼睛哀述，

他眼望着那对眸子却像视而不见，

她仍秋波传情，他仍不屑一顾；

借助她澜澜的泪花作为帮腔，

这出哑剧的一场一幕都清清楚楚。

现在她轻轻地握住他的手，

好似冰雪牢狱把百合花拘囚，

或像一根石膏锁链把象牙束缚，

雪白的冤家缠住雪白的对头；

好一场一攻一守的美的战斗，

像两只雪白的银鸽在交喙接口。

她传情达意的舌头又开始述说：

“啊，你这位凡尘间最美的过客，

但愿我变作你，而你变成我，

但愿我心安然，你却伤心欲绝！

那样你只需看我一眼我就会救你，

纵然为你而死我也会赴汤蹈火。

“松开手，”他说，“你为何碰它？”

“还我心，”她说，“我就松开手，

以免你的狠心让我的心也变硬，

一旦如此它对叹息就无法感受。

那时我不会再理睬情人的叹息，

因为阿多尼把我的心变成了石头。”

他说：“真不知羞，快把手松开，

我的马已丢失，这一天也算白挨，

而我丢失骏马是因为你的过错，

所以我求你，让我独自在此呆呆，

因为此时我所思所想所忧所虑，

就是让我的坐骑从牝马那里回来。”

她回答说：“你的马离去完全应该，

因为它欣然接受热烈甜蜜的爱；

情欲就像炉中余火必须加以冷却，

若对它置之不理就会把心烧坏，

茫茫大海有边，但深深欲壑无涯，

所以你的马离去不值得大惊小怪。

“它被拴在树上时多像一匹驽马，

一根缰绳就把它拴得服服帖帖！

可一见它之所爱，它青春之报偿，

它对那区区束缚是何等轻蔑！

昂首扬鬃抛弃了那卑鄙的絷累，

让整个身心获得自由之喜悦。

“谁眼见自己的心上人赤裸玉体，

教雪白的床单懂得何为雪肤凝脂，

却只让饕餮的眼睛去饱餐秀色，

而不容其余的感官同样享受欢娱？

有谁在寒冷冬日看见熊熊炉火，

却因懦弱而没有上前取暖的勇气？

“容我替马辩护，听话的孩子，

我真心求你要向你的马学习，

好好享受你伸手就可及的欢乐，

我虽口拙，它却用行动教你。

哦，学会爱吧，这一课并不难，

而且你一旦学会就绝不会忘记。”

“我不知什么是爱，而且也不想学，

除非爱是野猪，那我就可以追狩，

爱有太多义务，我可不想承担，

我对爱之爱就是让爱蒙耻含垢，

因为我听说爱就是活在死亡之中，

那样活着欢笑就等于悲泪长流。

“谁愿穿一件尚未缝好的衣裳？

谁会摘一朵尚未绽开的蓓蕾？

抽芽的幼木若受到丝毫的伤害，

便会失去价值，在盛年枯萎；

如果让小马驹加鞍驮人载物，

那它们永远也长不成骏骥骖。

“你捏疼我的手了，让我俩分手吧，

快停止这种无聊透顶的胡扯瞎诌；

请解除对我这铁石心肠的围困，

因为它不会屈服于爱的威迫利诱。

请收回你的誓言、奉承和虚假眼泪，

因为此心如铁，它们打不开缺口。”

“你居然会说话？你居然有舌头？

真希望你是哑巴，或者我耳聋！

你美人鱼般的声音更把我伤害， 

我心早有重负，如今更沉重；

因天籁神曲中也会有低哑之声，

美妙的音乐悦耳却令心儿悲痛。

“要是我没有眼睛，只有耳朵，

耳朵会爱你不可见的内在之美；

要是我耳朵聋聩，你外在的美貌

会使我其他器官的感觉更敏锐；

要是我既无眼可视，也无耳可闻，

单凭摸摸你我也会往情网里坠。

“要是连我的触觉也抛弃了我，

我不能看，不能听，也不能触摸，

除嗅觉之外我已经一无所有，

我对你的一片痴情也不会减弱，

因为你美艳绝伦的脸上流香溢露，

单凭嗅觉就足以使人燃起爱火。

“但既然你如此款待这四种感官，

那对于味觉你该是多美的盛宴！

难道它们不希望此宴天长地久，

不派多疑的‘谨慎’锁门把关，

以免‘嫉妒’，那乖戾的不速之客，

会偷偷摸摸溜进来在席间捣乱？”

两片犹如朱门的红唇再次开启，

为他的话语让出一条甜蜜的通道，

就像红霞满天的拂晓往往会预示

大海上的灾难、陆地上的风暴、

林中鸟的悲哀、牧童的苦恼、

牧群和牧人都要遭遇的飓风狂飙。

她及时注意到了这不祥之兆：

恰如暴雨将至之前的风停树静，

好似野狼嗥叫前的龇牙咧嘴，

又像浆果冒浆之前的壳绽皮分，

或像是就要出膛的致命子弹，

他话未出口，意图已令她惊心。

她一看他的神色便跌倒地上，

因神色能使爱复活，也使爱死亡；

微笑可治愈皱眉造成的伤痛。

幸运的破产者会因爱而重新兴旺！

那天真的少年以为她玉殒香消，

忙拍她苍白的脸，直到脸泛红光。

慌乱中他完全忘了自己的初衷，

因为他本来是想把她痛斥一顿，

狡黠的爱神躲过了这顿痛斥，

急中生智反倒使她交上了好运！

因为她躺在草地上像死去一般，

直到他的气息重新赋予她生命。

他捏捏她的鼻子，拍拍她的脸庞，

弯弯她的手指，探探她的脉搏，

然后又揉嘴唇，想尽千方百计

要弥补他因狠心而闯下的大祸，

他轻轻吻她，而依她的心意，

只要他亲吻不停她就不想复活。

此时悲哀的夜晚已变成了白天，

她慢慢睁开了她碧蓝的双眼，

像灿烂的朝阳披着鲜艳的新装，

使清晨感到欣慰，使人间安然，

正如朝阳使天空显得更绚丽，

她的眼睛使她的脸显得更娇艳。

她的目光凝视着他光洁的脸庞，

仿佛她双目是从他脸上借得华光。

要不是他那对眸子被愁眉遮暗，

这四盏明灯绝不会混淆其光芒；

不过她的眼睛蒙着晶莹的泪花，

看上去就像夜晚水中的月亮。

她问：“我在哪儿，地下或天上？

是在烈火之中，还是浸泡在汪洋？

现在是何时？是清晨还是黄昏？

我是想活下去还是渴求死亡？

刚才我活着，却感到死的痛苦，

接着又死去，却尝到活的欢畅。

“你曾让我死，请再让我殒命！

你狠毒的心一直在教唆你的眼睛，

教它们对我不屑一顾，睨而视之，

结果它们杀害了我可怜的心，

而我这对真正指引心灵的眸子，

若非你嘴唇仁慈也会死于非命。

“既有如此神效，愿它们长久相吻！

愿它们嫣红的色泽永不消退！

愿它们的鲜嫩和芳香经久不衰，

以便在祸祟之年驱瘟神疠鬼！ 

以致预卜死亡的星象家们会说

这场瘟疫  是被你的气息屏退。

“你的芳唇在我柔唇上留下甜吻，

为此吻长留我得签什么样的协定？

我可以心甘情愿地把自己卖掉，

这样你就可出个好价把交易做成，

成交之后你若担心出什么差错，

盖你的私印于我唇上以验明此身。

“一千个热吻即可买下我的芳心，

你可以在闲暇时支付，一吻接一吻。

一千个吻对你来说算得了什么？

难道不是很快能数完，很快付清？

假定你逾期未付，欠债应该加倍，

难道这麻烦不就是区区两千热吻？”

“美丽的爱神哟，你若真爱我，

请把我的冷淡归因于我年幼，

在我成熟之前别试图与我交欢，

绝没有渔夫能忍心对鱼秧下手，

枝头的青梅成熟后自然会落下，

若不待成熟就摘，吃起来会涩口。

“你瞧人间的安慰者  已人困马倦，

它白昼灼热的行程已结束在西天；

夜的预报者鸱鸺在尖叫，天色已晚；

鸟儿已经投林，羊群也已经归圈，

而遮暗了上天光明的片片乌云

正在敦促咱俩分手，快互道晚安。

“现在让我道晚安，你也说再见；

你若说出这两个字将得到一吻。”

“再见，”她说，而不待他道晚安，

为分手许下的甜蜜诺言已被履行；

因为她亲热地伸手搂住他的脖子，

这下他俩脸贴脸似乎成了一人。

他直到喘不过气来才挣脱身子，

收回甜蜜的红唇和潮润的香气，

她饥渴的嘴唇虽已饱尝鲜味，

但却抱怨说它们仍然又渴又饥；

他因吻多而腻，她却因吻少而晕，

结果双双倒地，嘴唇又吻在一起。

贪婪的欲望已捕到柔顺的猎物，

她已尽情酣食痛饮，但仍不知足，

她的唇已征服，他的唇已屈从，

她想要多少赎金他都会如数支付；

可贪得无厌的爱神却漫天要价，

想一口吸干他嘴唇这座宝库。

既然已尝到猎物鲜美的滋味，

她便开始更加疯狂地攫香掠美；

她热血沸腾，脸上冒着热气，

孟浪的情欲令她更加胆大妄为，

怕什么超常越轨，违情悖理，

寡廉鲜耻名誉扫地她全不理会。

他被她搂得脸红身热，目眩头晕，

像被人驯养的野鸟变得温顺，

或像头小鹿被人追得精疲力竭，

或像执拗的孩子因哄慰而安静，

他现在已服服帖帖，不再挣扎，

她尽其所能地掠取，仍难以尽兴。

蜡冻得再硬加热后也会变软，

最终会随着轻轻揉搓而变幻。

山穷水尽时铤而走险常获成功，

情场上更是如此，无须谁授权；

欲望不像懦夫那样缺乏勇气，

对手越难制服它越是追求得欢。

当初若是见他皱眉就畏缩不前，

她就难饮他唇上的玉液琼浆。

疾言厉色吓不倒真正的恋人，

玫瑰终被摘，它有刺又有何妨？

美即使被二十把大锁牢牢锁定，

爱最终也会破门而入把它品尝。

可惜现在她不能再把他强留，

因可怜的少年哀求说他应该返程。

于是她决定不再强留他在身边，

便与他告别，嘱咐他看好她的心，

她凭着丘比特的神弓赌咒发誓，

说她的心从此就在他心中囚禁。

“可爱的少年，”她说，“今宵多苦！

相思之情会使我通宵难以闭目。

爱的主宰哟，咱俩明天能否相会？

能否？能否？您能否与我再晤？”

他对她说不能，他已经另有安排，

明天他要和朋友一道去猎野猪。

“野猪？”她闻此言顿时面如死灰，

仿佛娇红的玫瑰被一块白纱遮挡，

他的话令她不寒而栗，浑身发抖，

她又伸手紧紧搂住他的颈项。

她头一晕，双臂仍搂着他的脖子，

结果她仰面倒地，他扑在她身上。

这下她倒是真进了爱的比武场，

她的骑士已上马要进行一场较量；

谁知她的感觉是一场虚幻春梦，

他无意驭驾她，尽管骑在她身上，

她的痛苦比坦塔罗斯  的还更难忍，

因为她拥抱着福地却得不到欢畅。

像可怜的小鸟被画中葡萄欺哄，

虽说饱了眼福，却腹中空空， 

她就这样在焦思中饥渴难耐，

像可怜的鸟儿望着鲜果在画中。

她发现他缺少热烈的柔情蜜意，

便想用更多亲吻使他春心萌动。

她尝试了所能尝试的各种手段，

可结果还是竹篮打水，终归枉然。

她的哀求本来值得更大的报偿，

可恋爱中的爱神却得不到爱恋。

“呸，”他说，“快松手让我离去，

你没有理由对我这样胡搅蛮缠。”

“你若不告诉我你要去猎野猪，

可爱的少年哟，我早就让你走掉。

但现在请听我说，你也许不知

用标枪去扎野猪有多么糟糕，

它一直在磨从来不收起的尖牙，

就像凶残的屠夫总在霍霍磨刀。

“它的拱背上有粗鬃排兵列阵，

历来就令它的对手胆战心惊，

它发起怒来眼睛就像闪闪萤火，

它的嘴四处乱拱像在掘墓挖坟；

它一旦被惹恼就会横冲直闯，

而谁碰上它的弯牙谁就会丧命。

“它健壮的两肋也有厚厚粗鬃，

像坚实的铠甲能挡住你的长矛；

它又粗又短的脖子不易受伤害；

暴躁时它连狮子也敢去侵扰。

密密的荆丛和灌木林都很怕它，

一见它就让路，任它横行霸道。

“唉，它才不会珍惜你的美貌，

虽爱神的眼睛向你的美频频献媚；

它不会爱你的玉手、芳唇和明眸，

虽它们令世人赞叹，有口皆碑；

多可怕呀！只要它一有机会，

就会像毁草地一样毁掉这些美。

“哦，让它就呆在它肮脏的猪窝！

美与这样的恶魔没有丝毫瓜葛。

千万别随意进入它危险的领地，

听朋友的忠告往往能消灾避祸。

实不相瞒，刚才你说到野猪，

我为你担惊受怕，吓得直哆嗦。

“难道你刚才没看到我面如死灰？

没看出我眼里透出的畏惧惊恐？

我难道不曾晕厥？不曾倒在地上？

此刻你依在我怀里，可这胸中

不祥的预兆令我不安，令我心惊，

使胸脯像在地震，使你上下簸动。

“因为哪儿有爱，哪儿就有忧虑，

而忧虑常把自己称为爱的卫士，

它每每误发警报，误称有骚扰，

在平安无事的时候也高喊‘杀敌’，

往往令情深意浓的爱也减低欲望，

像疾风冷雨一般把烈火灭熄。

“这乖张的密探，好战的奸细，

这吞噬爱情幼芽的可恨的蛀虫，

这无事生非、兴风作浪的忧虑

虽有时失误，有时也把真情传送，

它叩击我心扉，在我耳边低语，

说我若爱你就得为你忧心忡忡；

“不仅如此，它还在我的眼前

呈现出一幅野猪逞凶的画面，

在它锋利的尖牙下有一具躯体，

那具酷似你的躯体血迹斑斑，

鲜血浸透了他身旁的朵朵娇花，

使花儿纷纷弯腰低头为之悲叹。

“要真看见你那样，我该怎么办？

现在只想到那画面我都在发抖。

这念头使我脆弱的心在流血，

恐惧教会我的心能预感兆头征候；

因此我预言你明天若去猎野猪，

你会死于非命，我将终生哀愁。

“若你非要去狩猎，请听我劝告，

你只能放猎犬去追胆小的野兔，

或是去猎杀凭狡猾过日子的狐狸，

或是把见人就躲闪的小鹿追逐；

总之你只能骑着骏马，跟着猎犬，

在开阔地带追猎这些弱小动物。

“当你追赶半瞎眼的野兔之时，

要留心看那小东西为逃脱灾难，

会如何追风逐日地全速飞奔，

会怎样机敏诡诈地东躲西闪，

它钻进钻出的那些树篱空隙

会像一座迷宫令追兵眼花缭乱。

“有时候它会混身于羊群之中，

叫老练的猎犬也闻不出气味；

而有时候它会藏进穴兔的洞里，

让咆哮不已的猎犬止住狂吠；

有时候它还会与鹿群相依相伴：

敏捷出自应急，妙计生于临危。

“因为这样各种气味就相互混淆，

凭嗅觉追踪的猎犬会心生狐疑，

它们会停止狂叫而仔细分辨，

直到从各种气味中辨出那气息。

然后它们的吠声又会直冲云霄，

好像另一场追猎正进行在天宇。

“此时远处小山上可怜的野兔

会用后腿支起身子，竖耳倾听，

听它的敌人是否还在紧追不舍。

而不久后它就会听到追杀的声音，

这下它心中之悲苦真难以比拟，

恰似病入膏肓者听见丧钟幽鸣。

“这时你可见那浑身沾露的野兔，

东拐西弯，横跌竖撞，左冲右突。

居心不良的荆棘都来缠它的酸腿，

森森阴影沙沙风声都令它怯步，

因坍塌之墙常会被众人踩踏，

倒霉背运者也很少有人肯相助。

“请少安毋躁，听我再说两句，

别使劲挣扎，我不会让你站起。

为了让你对追猎野猪深恶痛绝，

我一反常态对你大讲寓言玄机，

以此事述彼理，再如此这般，

因爱能阐释每一种灾殃祸事。

“我刚才说到哪儿？”“这没关系，

你放我走就算你已经讲完故事；

现在已夜深人静。”“那又怎样？”

少年回答：“我的朋友正盼我回去，

可天这么黑，我走路恐怕要摔跤。”

她说：“爱情在黑暗里看得最清晰。” 

“但要是你真摔倒，请你这样想：

是爱你的大地把你的双足挽留，

让你摔跤不过是为了亲你一亲；

奇珍异宝会让君子也变成小偷；

因此腼腆的狄安娜才用乌云遮脸，

唯恐因偷吻你一下而背誓丢丑。 

“现在我看出了今宵黢黑的原委：

是月神狄安娜因害羞而自掩了银辉，

为了让从天上盗走神模的‘造化’

因仿造神形而被宣告犯叛逆之罪。

是‘造化’违抗天命用神模造你，

白天叫太阳脸红，夜晚令月亮羞愧。

“因此月神便买通了命运女神， 

要糟践‘造化’造美的精湛技艺，

她们往美中掺入各种缺陷瑕玷，

让纤尘不染的美变得瑜中有疵，

从而使美容易受到伤害摧残，

被疯狂的灾难和数不清的疫疠：

“如可怕的热病、疟疾和昏晕，

荼毒众生的鼠疫和癫狂的癔病，

还有吸精竭髓、耗损元气的痨瘵，

染此病者会因血热而耗神伤身；

至于恶心、脓疮、忧郁和绝望

也都诅咒给你美的‘造化’短命。

“而这些病症疾患中最轻的一种

也可在片刻的侵袭中把美摧毁；

刚刚还叫公正的观者击赏的风姿，

适才还令无私的旁人惊叹的妩媚，

转眼间就春残花落，红消香断，

像骄阳融化的山间雪一去不回。

“所以不要管那不结果实的贞操，

不要学维斯塔贞女和自爱的修女， 

她们只会让这个世界人丁稀少，

变滚滚红尘为缺童少孺的荒地；

请慷慨一点吧！夜里辉煌的明灯

都是靠燃尽灯油才把光给予人世。

“若你不想把后嗣毁在幽冥之中，

依照时序天道你一定得有儿女，

可眼下你的身躯不就是一座坟墓，

张着大口似乎要埋葬你的后裔？

若果真如此，世人将要对你轻蔑，

因为你的骄傲把美好的希望窒息。

“这样你就等于是毁掉自己，

其恶大于血腥野蛮的手足相争，

大于绝望者用绝望之手自戕，

或凶残的父亲剥夺儿子的生命。

斑斑锈垢会腐蚀被埋藏的财宝，

而加以利用的黄金可再生黄金。” 

“好啦，”阿多尼说，“到此为止，

不要再唠叨你陈腐无聊的话题。

我刚才给你的一吻就算是白搭，

可你要逆水行舟也枉费心机，

因为在这滋养情欲的漆黑之夜，

你的话使我对你越来越生厌腻。

“即使爱情借给你两万条舌头，

而且条条都比你自己的舌头灵巧，

言甜语蜜就像是美人鱼的歌声，

这歌声对我的耳朵也完全无效；

因为我武装的意志守卫着耳朵，

绝不容淫声浪语溜进我心窍。

“以免那种诱惑人的靡靡之音

会飘进我风平浪静的内心深处，

让我幼小的心灵动荡不安，

再不能安然居于幽谧的小屋。

不，女神哟，我的心不想呻吟，

它只想安眠，像现在这样蛰伏。

“你所说的哪一点我不能驳斥？

把人诱向危险的路条条都是坦途。

我不讨厌爱，但厌恶你的爱法，

那实际上是水性杨花，人尽可夫。

做爱是为了繁衍？多稀罕的理由！

这理由其实是宣淫纵欲的鸨母。

“别称这为爱，因爱已逃往天上。

自从淫在这世间篡夺了爱的名分，

淫披着爱的纯洁外衣把美吞噬，

却让爱代为受过，玷污爱的名声；

那淫荡的暴君损害爱的名声，

就像是毛虫慢慢蚕食幼芽嫩茎。

“爱好比雨后阳光使人欣慰，

淫则是晴日后的风雨令人沮丧；

爱之和煦春天岁岁季季常留，

淫之严冬不待夏尽就匆匆临降；

爱总适可而止，淫会因贪而亡，

爱永远讲真话，淫则总是撒谎。

“我还能再说，可我不敢多讲，

这话题太古老，而言者却太年少，

所以我现在是真要离你而去；

我此时还满脸羞愧，满腹懊恼，

我这双奉陪你艳词淫句的耳朵

此时还在为受到的冒犯而发烧。”

说到此他奋力从她怀中挣脱，

甩开玉臂的拥抱、酥胸的纠缠，

迈开步子穿过幽林朝家飞奔，

让爱神独自躺在林中深深悲叹。

像一颗明亮的流星划过夜空，

他就那样滑离爱神的视线。

她两眼凝望着他离去的身影，

像岸上人目送乘船离去的朋友，

一直望到巨浪洪波吞没帆影，

只剩远方云浪相接，水天悠悠；

无情黑夜就像那些洪波巨浪

把她默默凝视的那个身影卷走。

她怅然若失就仿佛一不当心

把一件贵重的珠宝掉进了海里；

她惊恐不安就像是夜间行路，

走进陌生的森林时火把被吹熄；

她就这般凄惶地躺在黑暗之中，

因为她失去了为她引路的火炬。

她捶自己的胸口，于是心呻吟，

周围的山洞似乎也感到不安，

幽洞深岫发出一阵阵的回声，

重复着她凄凄切切的呻吟悲叹：

“唉，”她叹息，无数幽洞应和，

于是“唉唉”之叹息回荡不散。

听着回声她用一种悲哀的曲调

唱出一支令人伤感的小曲：

爱如何令青年着迷，老人昏愦，

爱如何让聪明一世者糊涂一时。

她忧伤的歌声依然以叹息结尾，

回声合唱队依然也连连叹息。

她用绵绵歌声打发那漫漫长夜，

虽说情人恨夜短，夜其实很长；

情人自家快活就以为别人也喜欢

花前月下、卿卿我我、窃玉偷香。

他们往往爱讲没完没了的故事，

可故事还没讲完听者早不知去向。

因为除了那些应声虫似的回声，

还有谁伴她度过这漫漫长夜？

回声就像一叫就应的酒店伙计，

对再任性的顾客也会奉承巴结，

她说是，回声就说的确如此，

她说非，回声就说的确不是。

看哟，厌倦了睡眠的云雀

从沾露的窝巢振翮高高飞翔，

它唤醒黎明，而从黎明的怀中

冉冉升起高贵而庄重的太阳，

太阳用灼灼目光俯瞰这个世界，

使树梢山顶都染上灿灿金光。

爱神因这朗朗之晨向太阳致意：

“哦，光明之神，光明的庇护者，

世上每盏明灯，天上每颗星星

从来都是借你的光芒使之增色，

如今有个凡尘母亲所生的孩子 

可以借给你光，如你通常所做。”

说完她忙冲向一片桃金娘树丛，

心中纳闷为何清晨早已来临，

而她却没听见她心上人的音信。

她侧耳想听见犬吠和号角声声，

随即她果真听见了猎犬狂吠，

于是她朝着狗吠之处急速飞奔。

当她飞奔时有荆棘灌丛挡路，

有的抓她的颈，有的吻她的脸，

有的缠住她双腿要叫她留步。

但她疯狂地挣脱了它们的纠缠：

像一头哺乳期奶头发胀的母鹿

急着赶回藏树丛后的小鹿身边。

此时她听出那些猎犬面临强敌，

她就像忽遇毒蛇，胆战心惊；

盘蜷着身子横挡住去路的毒蛇

会令人浑身发抖，战战兢兢；

猎犬胆怯的汪汪声就是这样

令她禁不住直哆嗦，令她惊魂。

她现在知道那绝非是弱小动物，

而是凶猛残暴的熊、狮或野猪，

因为嘶叫声一直停留在一个地方，

猎犬惊恐的吠声也来自该处；

肯定是猎犬发现对手那么凶猛，

便都互相推让，不争先去角逐。

这不祥的吠声在她耳边悲鸣，

并钻进耳朵使她的心惶惶不定，

疑惑与恐惧把她的心征服，

使四肢麻木，所有感官都失灵；

就像士兵们一旦看见主帅阵亡，

便望风而逃，再也不敢恋阵。

她就这样浑身发抖，神情恍惚，

直到惊呆的感官都重新恢复，

她告诉自己这般惊恐毫无来由，

无端惊恐是孩子常犯的错误；

她叫自己别再发抖，别再害怕，

话音未落她就瞥见了那头野猪。

它白沫四溢的嘴被染得通红，

像是牛奶与鲜血混淆模糊，

恐惧再一次袭上她的全身，

催她快跑却不知跑往何处。

她忽而朝前冲，忽而止步，

忽而又折回责骂行凶的野猪。

一千种冲动驱她奔向千条道路，

她在一千条道路上来去匆匆。

心急火燎反令她欲速则不达，

慌慌张张就像醉汉酒鬼的举动，

有许多打算，但都未仔细考虑，

疲于奔命，但没有一事成功。

她发现一只猎犬缩在灌木丛中，

便向那可怜家伙要它的主人，

接着她看到另一只正在舔伤口，

治毒牙咬伤只有这种方法最灵，

随之她遇见第三只正垂头丧气，

朝它问话它只报以哀鸣声声。

这一只刚刚停住它刺耳的哀鸣，

另一只耷拉着嘴唇的丑陋的黑狗

又对着寥寥苍昊发出凄厉叫声。

接着一只只猎犬回应，其声悲忧，

平日里骄傲的尾巴都拖在地上，

受伤的耳朵不住摇晃，鲜血直流。

就好像尘世间可怜的芸芸众生

一见到奇幻异象就胆战心惊，

总会用恐惧的目光久久地凝视，

将其解释成可怕的凶兆恶征；

她面对此景也倒抽了一口凉气，

随之喟然长叹，开始咒骂死神：

“你这丑陋不堪、瘦骨嶙峋的暴君，

你这拆散鸾凤的可憎可恨的死神，

你这狰狞的魔鬼，人世间的蛆虫，

你为何扼杀美艳，盗走他的生命？

他活着的气息使紫罗兰更芬芳，

他活着的美艳使玫瑰花更动人。

“他若是死去——哦，这不可能，

你要是看见他有多美就不会忍心；

但这也可能，因为你有眼无珠，

不过是心怀恶意地乱砍乱割一阵。

你的目标本是衰老，但你的镰刀

却错过目标劈开了一位少年的心。

“你若曾叫他当心，他就会答话，

而他一开口你的威力就会融化。

命运女神会因这一刀而把你诅咒，

本叫你刈除衰草，你却割了娇花。

本来应是爱神的金箭向他射去，

而不该是死神的镰刀把他砍杀。

“莫非你想喝泪，惹我这样痛哭？

不然这种痛哭对你有什么好处？

你为什么要让那双眼睛永远闭上，

那双眼睛曾教所有眼睛放眼纵目？

如今‘造化’不再怕你毁灭的力量，

因她最美的杰作已毁于你的严酷。”

说到此她被绝望压倒，悲不自胜，

她垂下眼睑就像关上两道闸门，

要堵住那道飞流直下的晶莹泪泉，

不让它从美丽的脸腮流向胸襟；

可泪泉如雨不断冲击关闭的水闸，

以势不可挡之力又冲开了闸门。

哦，她的眼睛和泪水交相辉映，

泪中眸子晶莹，眼中泪花剔透，

相互映出各自深含的悲愁哀戚，

映出叹息想止住的哀戚悲愁；

但就像风雨交加之日忽风忽雨，

叹息刚吹干脸腮，悲泪又长流。

不尽哀伤唤起她心中的百忧千愁，

都争着要充当最忧最愁的伤悲，

她心容千愁百忧，忧愁各施淫威，

似乎每一种都可令她五内俱毁，

发现难分高低，它们便沆瀣一气，

像片片酝酿暴风雨的乌云聚汇。

此时她听见远方有猎人呼猎犬。

她比婴儿听见摇篮曲还更高兴，

心中那些可怕的想象和疑惧

被这希望之声驱除得干干净净，

重新燃起的希望令她欣喜若狂，

使她以为那就是阿多尼的声音。

于是她汹涌的泪水开始退潮，

囿于眼中像珍珠贮在玻璃瓶里，

不过偶尔会有一滴夺眶而出，

但脸将其融化，仿佛不准它去

洗涤大地那张脸庞上的污渍，

因大地只湿透，而她几乎淹死。

不可思议的爱哟，真不可思议！

忽而疑神疑鬼，忽而见风是雨！

要么悲痛欲绝，要么欣喜若狂，

绝望与希望使你显得荒唐滑稽；

希望用“未必会”使你高兴，

绝望用“可能会”令你悲戚。

她开始把自己结的疙瘩解开：

阿多尼活着死神就不该被责怪。

她说死神罪大恶极并非本意，

现在她替那可憎之名贴金敷彩：

称他为坟墓之王、王之坟墓、

世间芸芸众生至高无上的主宰。

“可爱的死神，我刚才只是戏言，

但仍然请你原谅，当时我太担心，

以为我已遇上那头残暴的野猪——

那个从不知怜悯为何物的畜生；

所以温柔的死荫  哟，实话实说，

我骂你是因为我怕我爱人已丧命。

“这不能怪我，是野猪叫我瞎说，

无形的主宰哟，请你朝它发火；

正是那卑鄙的畜生对你诬蔑诽谤，

我只是被唆使，它才是教唆者。

悲哀有两条舌头，任何一个女人

若无过人之智慧都难以将其羁勒。”

这般希望阿多尼还活在世上，

她过分仓促的疑惧被一扫而光，

因为想让他的美能天长地久，

她竟然低三下四地为死神捧场，

与他谈起纪念碑、雕像与陵墓，

还谈起他的胜利、凯旋和辉煌。

“哦，朱庇特，你看我有多傻，

居然有如此迟钝而愚蠢的脑瓜，

竟为活人哭丧，而他不可能死，

除非这世间万物皆成流水落花！

因为他一旦夭亡，美将随他而去，

而美一旦消亡天地又会混沌无涯。

“唉，盲目的爱哟，你充满疑惧，

像腰缠万贯者担心周围的小偷；

并非亲眼所见亲耳所闻的琐事

也会令你懦怯的心因玄想而哀愁。”

说到此她忽然听见了欢快的号角，

她一跃而起，忘了刚才的悲忧。

像猎鹰扑向诱物  ，她飞身向前，

轻盈的脚步连小草也没踏弯，

可在飞奔的途中她不幸看到

她心上人被野猪咬得血迹斑斑，

此情此景使她双目突然失明，

仿佛自惭形秽的星星躲避白天，

或像柔嫩的触角被碰击的蜗牛

急忙缩回壳中，强忍着疼痛，

屏住气息蜷伏在黑洞洞的壳里，

过了好久都还不敢往前爬动；

她的眼睛一见那血淋淋的场面，

就这样躲进了幽深的眼窝之中，

在那儿它们向不安的大脑辞职，

要放弃自己的分内工作和光明，

大脑叫它们陪着丑陋的黑夜，

别再用外面的景象来伤害心灵，

心灵则像个坐立不安的君王，

因眼睛的刺激而发出一声呻吟。

其他部位器官都随之不寒而栗，

仿佛是囿于大地深处的狂飙

为争夺出路而引起地动山摇， 

其恐怖之景象使人心惊肉跳。

这场骚乱令全身各处如此惊吓，

以致眼光又从黑暗的眼窝闪耀。

两眼一睁开便把不情愿的目光

投向被野猪撕开的宽宽伤口，

伤口在他百合花般柔嫩的腰间，

雪白的腰如今已被鲜血染透。

他身旁的山花野草、青枝绿叶，

无不被血染，似乎也殷血长流。

可怜的爱神目睹这肃穆的悼念，

情不自禁地把头耷拉在肩上，

她默默地强忍悲痛，神癫意迷，

竟以为他不会死，没有夭亡；

她嗓子忘了发音，关节忘了动，

她一直在流泪的眼睛变得痴狂。

她是那么专注地察看他的伤口，

以致眼花把一处伤看成三处， 

于是她责备自己眼花缭乱，

在没有受伤的地方把伤口多数。

可他的脸也成对，肢体也成双，

因心乱时眼睛往往看碧成朱。

“他一人死去我已难述哀伤，

可眼前分明有两个阿多尼身亡！

我的悲叹已尽，我的咸泪已干，

我的心底铅重，我的眼中火旺。

心之铅哟，请在眼之火中熔化，

这样我就能死于热望的滴淌。

“可怜的人世哟，你失去了瑰宝！

如今还有何值得凝眸的花容月貌？

还有谁的嗓音称得上飞泉鸣玉？

无论过去将来你还有什么可夸耀？

花儿固然可爱，固然娇嫩艳丽，

可真正的美已随他一起玉殒香消。

“从今以后无人需要戴帽披纱！

因为丽日清风不会再试图吻你；

既然无美可失，就无须害怕

太阳把你嘲笑，清风对你鄙视。

可当阿多尼活着时，丽日清风

就像潜伏的盗贼要掠他的美丽。

“所以那时他总是戴着便帽，

而炫丽的太阳偏从帽檐下窥视，

清风也老爱把他的帽子吹掉，

拨弄他的秀发，弄得他哭鼻子，

于是清风丽日马上可怜他年幼，

又争着看谁先替他擦干泪迹。

“狮子为一睹芳颜而把他尾随，

躲在树篱后偷看，因为怕他受惊。

当他为消遣娱乐而放开歌喉，

猛虎也会变得温顺并侧耳倾听；

狼一听见他说话就会丢开猎物，

而且那天绝不会再去惊扰羊群。

“他若伫立溪边看自己的身影，

鱼儿会展开金鳃追逐他的影子；

他若经过树林鸟儿会欢呼雀跃，

有的为他唱歌，有的忙着献礼，

为他衔来桑葚和红红的樱桃，

他飨鸟儿以美，鸟儿报以果实。

“可这头肮脏丑陋的尖嘴野猪，

它朝下看的眼睛总是在寻找坟墓，

它绝没看见他美丽的容貌身姿——

它所作所为便是证明，明白无误。

要是它看见了他的脸，那我深信

它是想去吻他才叫他一命呜呼。

“是的，是的，阿多尼就这样被杀：

当他手握利矛偶然撞上那头野猪，

野猪并无意在他身上磨牙砺齿，

而是想用亲吻的方式让他留步；

可多情的野猪用长嘴亲吻他腰时，

不知不觉将利牙插进了他的腹部。

“我承认要是我也有那样的尖牙，

我可能早就因吻他而叫他丧命，

但他已死去，而令我更不幸的是

他未曾用他的青春赐福我的青春。”

说到此她一头倒在她站立的地方，

她脸上也染上了他的斑斑血痕。

她凝视他的嘴唇，嘴唇已苍白；

她握住他的手掌，手掌已冰凉；

她在他耳边低声讲述她的痛苦，

仿佛那耳朵还能听她倾吐悲伤；

她掰开遮掩那对眸子的眼睑，

可两盏明灯已熄灭，黯然无光。

她上千次照过自己的那两面明镜

如今已不能再映照出她的身姿，

那晶亮无比的明镜一旦失去光泽，

所有的美便都失去了美的意义。

“时间的奇观  哟，我伤心的是

白昼居然还明亮，尽管你已死去。

“既然你已死去，那我在此预言：

从今以后忧伤将永远与爱相伴；

嫉妒从此将永远不离爱之左右，

爱会始于甜蜜，但终于苦恼厌烦；

爱之欢乐与痛苦绝不会成比例，

爱之快活永远敌不上爱之悲酸。

“爱将反复无常，充满欺诈，

爱的蓓蕾一绽放就会被摧成残花，

爱将会笑里藏刀，口蜜腹剑，

连最亮的眼睛也难把真伪觉察；

爱将使身强力壮者都变得衰弱，

令智者哑口无言，教白痴说话。

“爱将小气悭吝，奢靡放纵，

爱会教老者起舞，且舞姿雍容；

爱会教猖獗的歹徒循规蹈矩，

让富者变乞丐，让贫者成富翁；

爱将凶猛狂暴，但又温柔软弱，

使青年衰老，让耆叟返老还童。

“爱会在安然无虞时疑神疑鬼，

而在最该忧虑时却高枕无忧；

爱将善良仁慈，但又暴戾恣睢，

它最虚伪时偏偏显得最老实忠厚；

它最乖张时偏偏显得最百依百顺，

它令勇士心虚，叫懦夫胆大如斗。

“它将会引起战争，招灾惹祸，

它将挑起儿子与父亲之间的不和，

它将轻而易举地导致牢骚不满，

像枯草干柴容易引起熊熊大火。

既然死神让我的心上人英年早逝，

那天下痴男怨女将难享爱之欢乐。”

这时躺在她身边的那位少年

像一团云雾在她眼前消散融化，

而从他洒在地上的那滩血中

长出了一朵红白相间的小花， 

那雪白就好像他那张苍白的脸，

那鲜红恰似他的鲜血滴滴抛洒。

她低头去闻那朵花儿的芳香，

把那种芳香当作阿多尼的气息；

她说既然死亡把他与她分开，

她将让那朵小花开在她心底。

她摘下小花，花茎头流下绿汁，

她把这晶莹的绿汁当成是泪滴。

她说：“可怜的花哟，芳香之子，

这就是你生身父亲一贯的稚气，

为一点儿烦忧就会悲泪长流。

他的愿望就是完全长成为自己，

而你也是这样，但你应该知道

萎在我怀中就是浸在他的血里。

推荐阅读：

袖中金错刀 迟回岁将阴 因思湘妃叹 重华不可寻