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2021年2月10日发(作者：网纹草)

The

Rose

—

Elf

玫瑰花精

In the midst of a garden there grew a rose bush, quite covered with roses, and in

the

most

beautiful

of

them

all

there

lived

an

elf-an

elf

so

tiny

that

no

mortal

eye

could see him. But he was as well made and as perfect as any child could be, and

he

had

wings

reaching

from

his

shoulders

to

his

feet.

Behind

each

petal

of

the

rose

he

had

a

tiny

bedroom.

Oh,

how

fragrant

his

rooms

were,

and

how

bright

and

transparent

the walls, for they were the beautiful pale pink petals of the rose! All day long

the little elf rejoiced in the warm sunshine as he flew from flower to flower or

danced on the wings of the fluttering butterflies and measured how many steps he

would have to take to pass along all the roads and paths on a single linden leaf.

You see, what we call the veins on a leaf were highroads and byways to him. It was

a

long

journey,

and

he

had

begun

it

rather

late,

so

before

he

finished,

the

sun

had

gone down!

It turned very cold, dew fell, and the wind blew, so now it was high time he went

home. He hurried as fast as he could, but to his dismay he found that the rose had

closed its petals for the night! Not a single rose stood open! He couldn't get in!

Now, the poor little rose elf was terribly frightened, for he had never been out

at night before; he had always slumbered sweetly and safely behind the warm rose

petals. This would surely be the death of him!

Suddenly he remembered that at the other end of the garden there was an arbor of

lovely honeysuckle, those flowers which looked like big painted horns. In one of

them, perhaps, he could go down and sleep safely till morning.

Swiftly

he

flew

to

the

far

end

of

the

garden.

But

suddenly

he

stopped!

Quiet!

There

were

already

two

people

in

the

arbor.

The

loveliest

maiden

and

a

handsome

young

man.

They sat closely

together and wished

they

might

never,

never part. They

loved each

other, even more than the best child can love its father and mother.

is sending me on a long journey, far over distant mountains and oceans. Farewell,

my sweetest bride, for that you will always be to me!

Then

they

kissed,

and

the

young

maiden

wept

and

gave

him

a

rose.

But

first

she

pressed

on it a kiss so warm and tender that the rose petals opened, and then the little

elf

slipped

quickly

inside.

As

he

leaned

his

tiny

head

against

the

delicate,

fragrant

walls,

he

could

hear,

Farewell!

and

he

felt

that

the

rose

was

being

placed

on the young man's heart. Ah, how that heart beat! The little elf couldn't go to

sleep for its beating!

But not long did the rose rest undisturbed on that throbbing heart. As the young

man

walked

lonely

through

the

dark

wood

he

took

the

rose

out

and

kissed

it

so

often

and so warmly that the little elf was almost crushed. Through the petals he could

feel the young man's burning lips, while the rose itself opened as if under the

strongest midday sun.

Suddenly

another

man

appeared.

It

was

the

pretty

maiden's

gloomy

and

wicked

brother!

He drew out a long sharp knife, and while the young man was kissing the rose, this

wicked one stabbed him to death! Then he cut off the head and buried head and body

in the soft earth beneath the linden tree.

he's

dead

and

forgotten!

the

evil

brother

thought.

never

come

back

again.

He was supposed to have left on a long journey where a man might easily lose his

life-and so he has lost his. No, he won't come back, and my sister won't ever dare

ask me about him.

the darkness of the night.

But he was not alone, as he thought. The little elf was with him. For, as he dug

the grave, a dried, rolled-up linden leaf had fallen in his hair, and the rose elf

was in that leaf. Now the man's hat was placed over the leaf, and it was very dark

in there where the little elf trembled in fear and anger at the wicked deed.

In the early morning, the evil man reached home. He took off his hat and went into

his sister's bedroom. There lay the pretty maiden, dreaming of her beloved, whom

she thought far away traveling over mountains and through the forests. The wicked

brother leaned over her and laughed-the hideous laugh of a devil-and the withered

leaf

dropped

from

his

hair

onto

her

bed

cover.

But

he

didn't

notice,

and

pretty

soon

he left her room to get a little sleep himself.

Now the little elf crept quietly out of the withered leaf, slipped into the ear of

the sleeping girl, and told her, as in a dream, the dreadful story of the murder.

He

described

the

spot

in

the

woods

where

her

brother

had

killed

her

sweetheart,

and

the

place

under

the

linden

tree

where

the

body

was

buried,

and

then

whispered,

so that you may not think this all a dream, you will find a withered leaf of the

tree on your bedspread!

Oh,

what

bitter,

bitter

tears

she

shed!

Yet

to

no

one

did

she

dare

betray

her

grief.

All that day her window stood open, and the little elf could easily have escaped

to

the

roses

and

all

the

other

flowers

of

the

garden,

but

he

could

not

bear

to

leave

the sorrowing girl.

In the window stood a bush that bore roses every month, and he found a spot in one

of those flowers from where he could watch the poor girl. Often her brother came

into the room, merry with an evil mirth, and she dared not say a word of the grief

in her heart.

When night came she stole out of the house and into the forest to the place where

the linden tree stood. She brushed away the leaves, dug into the earth, and so at

last came to the body of her beloved. How she wept then, and how she prayed to God

that

she

too

might

die!

She

would

gladly

have

taken

the

body

home

with

her,

but

since

that would be impossible, she took up the pale head, with its closed eyes, kissed

the

cold

mouth,

and

with

a

trembling

hand

brushed

the

dirt

from

the

beautiful

hair.

at

least,

I

can

keep,

she

wept.

Then

she

buried

the

body

again

and

scattered

the

leaves

once

more

over

it.

But

the

head,

together

with

a

little

sprig

from

a

jasmine

bush which bloomed in the wood where he had been killed, she took with her to her

home.

As soon as she reached her room she brought the biggest flowerpot she could find,

and in this she laid the dead man's head, covered it with earth, and planted the

sprig of jasmine.

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