俚优

只是单纯的老师布置的论文作业……研究各样描写
梗来自于远方的小白桦大大的《鲜花的山岗》里，彼得埋葬亚瑟的那一段
保留了瓦尔加斯小妹妹的设定。
在此向白桦大大的那篇文表示敬意。无论如何努力，也难以真正表达出她文里的那种震撼
死亡设定有。米英兄弟设定。只是个单纯的关于葬礼的故事。
极其喜欢利物浦水手设定的亚瑟。

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Sea Burial

The sun was going down. A small piece of moon appeared behind staked mists. Waves clasped the beach for only a few seconds, then faded in the vast ocean. The sea gulls  hovered above them and cried hoarse laments. The salty sea breeze stroked the leaves, the sands, the rocks, and his lapel.

How large the ocean was! Alfred felt he could not believe he and Arthur had passed the Mediterranean to come here two years before. In that time, he was only seventeen, and he knew nothing about war and danger. He still remembered that long trip, the harbours he had been to, and one time, the sea burial. Not every soldier could arrive to the battle field safely. That morning, he woke up because of the noise from the deck. A funeral or a young Scottish sailor, who died from gun accident. His body was wrapped in white fabric on a wooden board.  His girlfriend, a nurse who could not save her lover, played a bagpipe in prow. The melodious mournful ballad waved with the winds. Some sailors uplifted the board and, at last, pushed it into the sea. Alfred did not see the spindrift. He only heard the sound: the heavy impact between wood and water appeared like a drumbeat in the nurse’s song. Suddenly she dropped the bagpipe, crashed into the crowd, shouted, and cried. She stretched her arm as a cross on the deck. She was not tall, but Alfred recognized her immediately. Her head overlapped the rising sun, and her prayer and weeping dropped into the great ocean. 

Being a sailor was not a safe job, the same as a soldier. It was the first thing Alfred learned from Arthur in this journey. He was the lucky one. After he went through gunfire, land mine, death, defeat and victory, he, as a sailor and also a soldier, was still breathing. Alfred could not tell if he liked life, but now, he had to love it, more than everything. He had to love this deep edgeless sea, this tranquil polychrome sky, and, the thousands scintillant bleary lights behind him. Their brightness drew out the shape of towns and dimmed the Apennine Mountains into the nightfall. If a ship passed this beach in this kind moment, they would think this was only a ordinary seaside village. Only people who fought and lived here knew its splendid secret. 

It was like one month ago, when Arthur was still alive. They ran in the forests and woods with the guerrilla. In the early morning, they woke up with the grey cool mist. The moist fragrance from grass and soil melted into the chicken soup. Brooks flowed through flowering shrubs and wilds, like ribbon bound up in the hair of spring and summer. After the rains, all the leaves dressed in a white veil, and all the trunks put on their dark cloak. The sky was always delightful, no matter how the weather went. At noon, the fiery sunshine smelt their guns, their homespun clothes, their old muddy boots, and their righteous warm-blooded hearts. 

One dusk, after they annihilated a small enemy, Arthur and Alfred set on the roof of their headquarter (before the war, it was a villa for a rich man). The great ridge stretched her arm and showed them her colourful jewellery that covered up her long dress.  Arthur pointed to the flowers over the mountains. 

“You know what?” His intonation enhanced unconsciously, “We should live here. You, me, mom and dad, move here and live together when the war end. We can build our own house and have a garden. I can plant some roses. It is just not a right place to fight, to destroy by guns and shells. It is a place to sleep, to enjoy nature, to sing and play music, to sail, to catch some fish……It is a place to live the life, but not only exist. ”  Alfred stared at him. He could see in his elder brother’s emerald eyes, the magnificent highlights. His eyes had the same color as the verdant woods, and his thick eyebrows, which had been mocked by Alfred so many times, in this moment,  unfolded with evident expectation, like the expanded wings of sea guils. 

However, this was only a dream. Even if Arthur had survived, he would not stay in a mountain and live a normal life. The same was for Alfred. They were the sons of sailors. Their hometown was Liverpool, the best harbor in the world! No real sailor from Liverpool would stop the journey until death. The places they have been to, no matter how beautiful they were, could only be memory.  They only had one home to stay forever: the sea.

Arthur loved the Apennine. And now, Alfred took this responsibility. He would love here, as deep as he loved Liverpool and the sea. But before that, he needed to send Arthur back to his HOME.

Chiara Vargas came back. She brought a big basket, with countless flowers: white and red roses and some purple lilies. Those flowers were covered with leaves and mud. Alfred could even smile the familiar aroma. 

“I bought this candle.” She took out the red candle, “I don’t want to bury him in darkness.” He received it, with an amiable smile. 

“Thank you, Chiara…… little sister. ” He always called her by name. In the whole troop, only Arthur called her “little sister”. Chiara blinked her eyes, and some clear pearl tears moistened her pale face. 

They removed the flowers from the basket to that little boat, where Arthur had been laid. Some petals dropped on his golden tough hair, like roseate clouds decorating the offshore thatch. Alfred put that red candle on prow and ignited it. The tiny flame jumped for a few seconds, and started to burn constantly. Alfred boarded on the boat and rowed it into the Mediterranean.

This world was silent. His arms were moving, but all his mind and sight were on Arthur. He did not even know what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted to find just a few trails from their childhood. He needed to remember something, before his brother disappeared from this world. For a few seconds, he felt like Arthur was a stranger, but after another couple seconds, he realised that this is still his brother.

The moon came out. The shadows on Arthur’s face changed. He recently began to look on the glistening waves under the boat. The ocean wobbled the boat and them like a mother wobbled her child’s cradle. His heartbeats were in the same frequency with those waves. Arthur’s heartbeats were like the waves in the deep, deep sea, where all things lived in darkness, in silence, and in safety.

Finally, he thought, he is ready. He looked back; the lights on the shore were so remote that he felt like they were a part of the Milky Way. He picked up the chisel, and drilled a hole in the bottom of the boat. The chilly sea water came up stoutly, inundated his feet, and Arthur’s hair. The flowers floated in the boat, slowly and softly.

Alfred jumped out of the boat. He backstroked without knowing the direction. He just swam, as Arthur taught him twelve years ago. The only thing he could hear was the heartbeats of sea. But the thing he could see, was much more amazing.

Stars. The cloudless starry night firmament covered his view. The stars like iron nails on the warship, like sugar on homemade bread, like the tears on Chiara’s face, like the lights in Arthur’s eyes. They were there for a long time. They would be there forever. They did not know the cold of water, but they needed to bear more loneliness than any human could do. Today, they twinkled to Alfred; the moonlight clasped he and his brother. They were the distinguished guests of this funeral. He did not know why the stars became vague and brighter. He kept swimming, in this endless space, as swimming in the extensive heaven. The shimmery spindrift created another starry sky, and he was just a small traveler in it.

The flashlight interrupted his illusion. Chiara rowed another boat and found him. He got on the boat. She gave him a towel and asked, “Has your brother……arrived home?”

He eventually observed distance. He did not miss the direction, but nothing was there now. Only the abysmal mirky ocean answered this question.

“Yes, he has.”

The sailor laid on the boat, like he slept on a warm bed. The sailor slept in the sea, like he laid in his mother’s embrace. Arthur went back to that high eternal home, with thousands of splendid flowers and stars.

End&Beginning

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中文翻译版【甚】

海葬

夕阳西沉，一小方朦月从雾霭间探出脸。纵使海浪拥紧了沙滩，几秒的热恋后也只能退回那无际的大海。海鸥在他们头顶盘旋，沙哑的哀嚎着。咸涩的海风抚摸着这一切：乱叶，细沙，群礁，和他的衣摆。

海，是如此的辽阔！阿尔弗雷德难以相信在两年前，他和亚瑟竟穿过了这一望无垠的地中海来到了这里。那一年他年方十七，不懂战争不谙危险。他依旧记得那漫长的旅途，那些匆忙经过的港口，和那次海葬。并不是每个士兵都能顺利的到达战场。那清晨，他被甲板上的喧嚷惊醒。一个苏/格/兰水手的葬礼——他死于枪支走火。尸体被白布绑在一块木板上。他的女友，一位没能拯救自己爱人的护士，在船头吹响了风笛。悠远而凄然的民谣随风散开。水手们将板子抬起，并推进了波涛。阿尔弗雷德没能看见那浪花，只听见了声音：木与海水的撞响犹如鼓点，敲打入护士的曲调。她忽然丢下了风笛，冲进人群，大喊着哭号起来。她张开的双臂显得她像屹立在甲板上的十字架。她不算高，可阿尔弗雷德却一下子便把她从人群中辨别了出来。她的头颈与朝阳重叠，而她的哀祷与泪水沉入那浩瀚的海洋。

水手并不是什么安全的活儿，士兵也是如此。这是阿尔弗雷德在这次旅程中从亚瑟那里学到的第一件事。他是走运的那部分。在经历了枪林加弹雨，生死与离别，胜利和败仗之后，他，一个水手兼士兵，依旧安然呼吸着。阿尔弗雷德无法说清曾经的他是否喜欢自己的人生，但如今，他必须得爱它，爱得比任何事物都要深。他必须要爱这深而广阔的瀚海，这宁而多彩的穹苍，和那在他身后的，千千万万盏朦然闪烁的灯火。它们的光勾勒出镇子的形状，却将亚/平/宁山脉隐进了日暮。若此时有艘船经过这儿，大概会觉得这只是个普通的临海渔村。只有在这儿战斗并生活过的人，才知道它灿美的秘密。

就像一个月以前，亚瑟还活着的时候。他们随着游/击/部/队奔波在丛野之间。清晨，他们在灰凉的薄雾中醒来，青草与泥土的芬芳融进鸡汤里。溪水在花与屮草间穿梭，像束起春夏姑娘长发的锦缎。雨后，叶子们纷纷别上白纱，而树干们则披上深色的斗篷。天空永远是令人赞叹的，无论天气如何。而中午，炙热的阳光冶炼着他们的钢/枪，他们的粗布衣服和沾满泥土的靴子，还有他们那正直而热血的心肠。

一个黄昏，在歼/灭一个敌方小队后，亚瑟和阿尔弗雷德并肩坐在指挥部的屋顶上（在战前这曾是某富人的别墅）。山川舒展手臂，将缀满她长裙的缤纷的珠宝展现给他们。亚瑟指着这漫山遍野的花朵开了口。

“你知道吗？”他的声音不由自主的上扬起来，“我们应该在这里生活。你，我，还有爸爸妈妈，战争结束后搬过来住在一起。我们可以建栋自己的房子，再弄个花园，我能种些玫瑰。这里根本不该是拿来打仗，被战火给焚噬的地方。这里是安眠之地，是用来享受自然，放声歌唱弹琴，出海冲浪捕鱼……这里是拿来生活的，而不仅仅是生存。”

阿尔弗雷德望着他。他能看见兄长翡翠似的严重那闪烁着的光芒。他的眼睛与那青郁的森林同色，而他那被阿尔弗雷德嘲笑过许多次的眉毛此时也舒展开来，仿佛海鸥张开的翅膀。

可这只是个梦。哪怕亚瑟活下来了，他也决不会在山里度过平庸的一生，阿尔弗雷德亦然。他们是水手的儿子，他们的故乡是利/物/浦，是这世上最棒的港口。没有哪个利/物/浦的水手会停止浪途，直到死亡拦住他们的脚步。他们经过的地方，无论有多美，也只能化成记忆。他们只有一个永恒的家可归：大海。

亚瑟曾深爱着的亚/平/宁，如今由阿尔弗雷德来履行爱它的职责。他会爱这里，如他爱利/物/浦那般深沉。不过在那之前，他得先把亚瑟送回家。

契亚拉·瓦尔加斯回来了。她带着一大篮子数不尽的鲜花：红白玫瑰与紫百合。这些花儿们被枝叶缠绕，还依稀沾着泥土，阿尔弗雷德甚至还能闻到那令人熟悉的清香。

“我买了这个蜡烛。”她将那红色的蜡烛掏出来，“我不想在黑暗中埋葬他。”

他接过它，并给了她一个和气的微笑。

“谢谢你，契亚拉……小妹妹”

他一直都喊她名字的。整个连队里，只有亚瑟喊她“小妹妹”。契亚拉眨了眨眼，珍珠般的清泪沾湿她苍白的脸颊。

他们将花朵从篮子里搬出来放到小船上，亚瑟躺在那里面。一些花瓣掉在他金色的硬邦的头发上，如同彩霞点缀着沙滩上的茅草。阿尔弗雷德将红蜡烛点燃，那小小的火焰颤抖了几秒，安稳的燃烧起来。阿尔弗雷德跳上船，将它划入了地/中/海。

世界如此宁静。他的手臂工作着，可他的一门心思和所有的目光全在亚瑟身上。他甚至都不知道自己想看出点什么。可能，只是寻找出一点从他们童年残留下的印痕。在兄长从这世上消失前，他得记住些有关他的痕迹。有那么几秒钟，他觉得亚瑟像个陌生人，但几秒过后，他又重新意识到：这依旧是他的哥哥。

月亮完整的出来了，投射在亚瑟脸上的光影开始变换。他这才开始打量船下那闪耀的波浪。大海轻摇着船与他们，就如母亲轻摇着孩子的摇篮。他的心跳与波浪的节拍重合，而亚瑟的心跳则融进了深海：漆黑，宁静，而安全的深海。

终于，他觉得自己准备好了。他回头望去：岸上的光芒早已阑珊，以至于在他眼中，它们就是银河的一部分。他拿起凿子，在船底凿出了一个洞。冰冷的海水坚决的涌上来，没过了他的脚与亚瑟的头发。花朵们在船里，柔缓的漂浮着。

阿尔弗雷德跳出了船。他开始仰泳，尽管自己连方向都一时还没搞清。他只是本能的游泳，就像十二年前的亚瑟教他的那样。他能听见的只有大海的心拍，可他看到的则要惊艳得多——

繁星。晴朗的，布满了星星的夜空填满了他全部的视野。那些星星像战船上的铆钉，像家里面包上的砂糖，像契亚拉面颊上的泪珠，像亚瑟眼中的光。它们在那里呆过许久了，而它们会在那里直到永恒。它们不知海水的寒冷，但它们要忍受的孤寂，绝对比这世上任何一个人都要多。今日，它们向着阿尔弗雷德闪耀，月光抱紧他与他的兄长。它们是这葬礼上尊贵的客人。为何这星光开始模糊而更亮了？他也不知道，只是继续游着，在这无边无际的巨大空间里，就如游在宽广的天堂。粼粼的波光镶嵌出另一片星空，而他只是这其中一个微不足道的旅者。

手电筒的光打破了这幻景。契亚拉撑着船来寻找他了。他爬上船，她递给他毛巾，轻轻问道：

“你的哥哥……到家了吗？”

这时，他方敢回头望向远方。他并没有遗失方向，但此时，那里已空无一物。只有深渊般黑漆漆的大海向他回答。

“是的，他到了。”

水手躺在船上上，就像躺在温暖的床褥；水手眠于大海，就像安卧在母亲的怀抱。亚瑟回到那高处的永恒的家，披戴着万千鲜花与星光。