Cherry Blossoms樱花

【導读】

菲利普·洛帕特（1943— ），美国人文与科学院院士（Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences）、电影评论家、散文家、小说家、诗人、教师，生于美国纽约州纽约布鲁克林区，作品曾获多项大奖。

五月的樱花繁花似锦，但花期短暂;落英缤纷，免不了被践踏的命运。埃米莉是“我”最好的柏拉图式朋友。她有主见，引“我”保持住一个正常人的常态。她精准细致地安排赏花出游，“我”觉得她也挺招人爱。“为什么我俩不结婚呢？”“我”每年一问，却又折服于埃米莉“我俩之间吸引力不够”的坦诚。“我”有典型的“自杀式单身者”的特点：不喜社交，对各类“仪式”缺乏耐心，出游不久即觉腻烦。而“我”对埃米莉的心动，仿若每年盛开一次的樱花，短暂的惊艳之后便烟消云散。这样的“我”能培养出爱情，能组建上家庭吗？

For two weeks in May （or sometimes the last week in April and the first in May）， the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. They grow in nearby Central Park as well as in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens， but for some reason my friend Emily decides that the ones in Brooklyn are more “representative.” So after much consulting of schedule books， we set out on Saturday afternoon， May 9， to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Emily is my best platonic friend.

Emily’s spies in Brooklyn have assured her that the cherry blossoms are at their peak. It seems farfetched to me that one day more or less can matter so much; and yet， as Japanese art classically tells us， cherry blossoms are indeed that short-lived.

I am feeling very Japanese as I walk up the broad garden lane to the aisle of cherry blossoms. We have so few rituals any more—especially around Nature—that it would be nice to do this every year. I am thinking this way because I am already afraid of getting bored. So I tell myself let’s make this an annual excursion.

I am thinking how most rituals are family-bred： repetitions of holidays and habits nurtured in the bosom of domestic life. Single people， like Emily and me， have to be more inventive in our development of rituals. For us there are no tooth fairies， no half-birthdays， no bringing the children to Grandma. Living quite alone， my temptation is to view myself as a bizarre romantic monster outside the human community. Emily， with her surer grasp of custom and propriety， leads me gently by the hand to that most buried of， normality.

The long line of cherry trees on either side sends swirls of petals across the avenue in the wind. The trees are so weighted with cherry blossoms， poor things， that their limbs seem to sag from the burden of pink. Emily is of the opinion that last week they must have been perfect—this week they are a little over-ripe.

On the ground， scattered cherry blossoms pile up thick and wasted and bruised， destined to be trampled underfoot.

It’s too cold to sit for long on the grass. The sky is overcast， threatening rain.

Emily marches us away from this melancholy vista and over to the tulip beds. A woman of decision， she has a constant map in her head of where to go next， what is the best way to come upon any terrain. This time she finds us a spectacular double row of tulips， set almost too self-consciously on display， like a Cézanne exhibition. I like the ones that are pale yellow outside and dark yellow inside. Emily considers the insides of tulips very sexy. She used to be a photographer. We both agree that the black tulips are also wonderful： they’re not really black at all but a deep purplish-brown， thin and wrinkled as antique velvet. “Texas Flames” are white with orange tongues of fire streaking the petals.

I’m getting bored. I want to go home.

We stop in the commissary to buy notepaper with lilac sprigs. As we leave the park I keep seeing beautiful bushes with different-colored flowers， and I ask Emily what they are， and it is always the same answer. “Azaleas.”

On the way home in her Volkswagen， Emily and I are talking as usual about the difficulty of finding anyone with a set of quirks and appetites to match our prickly personalities.

“Why don’t we get married？” I ask.

Emily laughs： “You say that once a year.”

“Well， why don’t we？”

“Because you’re not attracted to me.”

I sit back in the seat， breath taken away1 by her honesty. At the same time I remember how I had kissed her in greeting a few hours before and how adorable she looked. “That’s not true. Sometimes I’ve very attracted to you.”

“But not enough，” she says with good-natured dismissiveness.

We drive on in silence. I think： Keep your mouth shut， she’s right， it’s not enough. She’s saved you from an awful scrape2.

Finally， Emily says： “You’re not the only who thinks that.”

“Thinks what？”

“That we two should get married. My sister Dora says it all the time.”

5月里有两周（有时是4月最后一周加5月第一周）樱花盛开。附近的中央公园和布鲁克林植物园都种了樱花，但出于某种原因，朋友埃米莉坚决认为布鲁克林的更具“代表性”。因此，多次查询日程簿之后，我们于5月9日周六下午出发前往布鲁克林植物园。

埃米莉是我最好的柏拉图式朋友。

埃米莉在布魯克林的眼线向她保证樱花正是灿烂时。对我而言，这么纠结于一两天的时间似乎有点儿过了;然而，日本传统艺术告诉我们，樱花花期确实很短。

沿着园里宽阔的小路走向樱花道时，我感受到浓浓的日本风情。我们的仪式已经很少了——尤其是关于大自然的——要是每年都这么来一次也是不错的。我这么想是因为我已经开始担心自己会觉得无聊。……