《HP短篇翻译GGAD》莫奈的睡莲

1、Seeker's fear

　　《邓布利多与格林德沃通信集》作者M\\\\\\\'lah Sihfay在08年发表的一篇文
　　原文http://www.letterblade.net/seekers_fear.html
　　时值盛夏，在村庄两英里外。高锥克山谷的傍晚炙热而青葱，如黄金般。夏虫在阴影里无辜地鸣叫，斜阳在树叶间泼洒出奇异的余辉。男孩们踏着近乎一致的步子，虚牵着手，睡衣在他们胸前敞开，阿不思脖颈空隙处露出一小块淤痕，遮掩在长发间，在霞光中灼灼发红。
　　“你，”他轻声问道，“畏惧死亡么？”
　　“没多怕。”盖勒特轻妄地说，眯起眼斜看向夕阳，天边一派澄金，“我不知道那有什么意义。”
　　“一些古老的诗歌里这么写——我早晨读到——那些追求死亡圣器的人往往出于对死亡的恐惧，是故常常可悲。”
　　“啊，我懂你的意思了。不过……没有，我并没多恐惧。不过是生命自然的规律。逼近的墙打断我的生命，肯定的，太阳总会落山。是的，想到我的生命终结，但事业还未尽，我不由恼怒，但是我会惧于现实的构成部分么？都是无意义的挣扎。”
　　“有些人说，它更像一面破旧的帘子，不可思议的薄，向你笼罩下来。”阿不思声音平静，却带着一点冷意。毕竟，相比盖勒特，他的人生中经历过更多次死亡。
　　“精妙的比喻，不过我的观点不改变。”一道锐利的笑容划过盖勒特的脸庞，“固有的逻辑似乎是，想掌控死亡的人这么做，是出于对死亡和死亡所能对他们造成的伤害的恐惧，对吧？而那些不惧于此的人则会适可而止。”
　　“听起来像是那回事儿。”
　　“嗯。”
　　他们向前走下去，盖勒特用他尖头的德国鞋踢起石子，而阿不思咀嚼着一片草叶。远山间处，残阳如血。
　　“但是”,盖勒特半晌后开口，抓住了朋友的胳膊，使他停下了脚步，拉近了他们的距离，“但是，阿不思，”他从阿不思浓密的秀发中握住了一撮，毫无预兆地一拽，让对方踉跄地倒在泥土上，然后微笑着呢喃，“我不需要害怕它，为了掌控它。”
　　阿不思的脸上是浅淡却毫不掩饰的震惊之色，碎草悄然从他嘴唇上滑落，打破了他惯常的平静。盖勒特透过头发紧握他的头颅，轻抚过他的脸颊，缓缓摘落他的眼镜，注视着阿不思的目光涣散开来，近乎半盲，他咽喉处狭窄的肌肉光洁而紧绷。
　　“同样，我没有特别畏惧你。”他低语，站得更近了些，直到阿不思贴上他的腿，正面他的腰腹。“可你呢，我追梦的伙伴？你害怕死亡么？”
　　“如飞蛾畏火。”阿不思喘息。

作者有话说

　　Two miles out of the village in midsummer, Godric\'s Hollow is hot and green and golden in the late evening, with gnats buzzing harmless in the shadows and the setting sun pouring strange colors through the leaves. The boys walk almost in lockstep, almost hand in hand, robes tugged open round their throats--and there\'s a bruise in the hollow of Albus\' neck, hidden by long hair glowing lurid in the late light.
\"Are you,\" he asks quietly, \"afraid of Death?\"
\"Not particularly,\" says Gellert, flippant. He\'s squinting into the setting sun, all golden. \"I don\'t see the point.\"
\"It was something in one of the old poems I was reading this morning--that those who seek the Hallows do so out of a fear of Death and should be pitied.\"
\"Ahh, I see where your point lies. But...no, not particularly. Not more than is natural for a living thing. A wall looms to cut off my existence, surely, the sun always sets. Yes, the thought of ending with my work undone is aggravating--but do I fear what is part of the very fabric of reality? Pointless struggling, that.\"
\"There are those who say it is more like a ragged veil, tantalizingly thin, drawn across.\" Albus\' voice is calm and a little cold; there has, after all, been more death in his past than in Gellert\'s.
\"A fine metaphor, but such rarely alter my sentiments.\" Gellert flashes a very sharp grin. \"The inherent logic would seem to be that those who wish to master Death do so because they are afraid of it and what it can do to themselves or their own, yes? And that those who do not overly fear it would leave well enough alone?\"
\"That would seem to be the case, yes.\"
\"Hmm.\"
They walk on. Gellert kicks stones with his pointed German shoes; Albus is chewing on a blade of grass. The sun is blood-red between the hills.
\"But,\" Gellert says after a long while, and touches his friend\'s elbow, halting his step and drawing him close. \"But, Albus--\" and he grabs a thick handful of Albus\' hair, no warning, and tugs, sending him stumbling to his knees in the dirt. Gellert smiles, murmurs, \"I don\'t need to be afraid of something in order to master it.\"
There\'s naked, tender shock on Albus\' face, breaking through his usual reserve, and the grass slips unheeded from his lips. Gellert strokes his cheek, gently, even as he holds his head tight by the hair, and slowly slips off his glasses and watches his eyes unfocus--half-blinded without them, and with the narrow muscles of his throat bare and straining.
\"I\'m not particularly afraid of you, either,\" he whispers, standing closer, until Albus plastered up against his legs, face to his groin. \"But what about you, fellow-seeker? Do you fear Death?\"
\"As the moth fears the flame,\" Albus breathes.