The Erl-King-2
Whenhebshishairthatisthecolourofdeadleaves,deadleavesfalloutofit;theyrustleanddrifttothegroundasthoughhewereatreeandhestandasstillasatree,whesthedovestofluttersoftly,ingastheye,downuponhisshouders,thosesilly,fat,trustingwoodieswiththeprettyweddingringsroundtheirnecks.Hemakeshiswhistlesoutofawigandthatiswhatheusestocallthebirdsoutoftheair--allthebirdse;andthesweetestsingershewillkeepihewindstirsthedarkwood;itblowsthroughthebushes.Alittleofthecoldairthatblowsraveyardsalwaysgoeswithhim,itcrispsthehairsonthebayneckbutIamnotafraidofhim;onlyafraido,ofthevertigowithwhichheseizesme.Afraidoffallingdown.FallingasabirdwouldfallthroughtheairiftheErl-Kihewindsinhishandkerchiefandkheendstogethersotheycould.Thenthemovingcurrentsoftheairwouldnolongersustainthemandallthebirdswouldfallattheimperativeofgravity,asIfalldownforhim,andIknowitisonlybecauseheiskindtomethatIdonotfallstillfurther.Theearthwithitsfragilefleeceoflastsummersdyingleavesandgrassessupportsmeonlyoutofplicitywithhim,becausehisfleshisofthesamesubstahoseleavesthatareslowlyturningih.
Hecouldthrustmeintotheseed-bedofyearsgeionandIwouldhavetowaituntilhewhistledmeupfrommydarknessbeforeIcouldebackagain.
Yet,whenheshakesoutthosetwoclearnotesfromhisbirdcall,Ie,likeanyothertrustingthingthatperchesonthecrookofhiswrist.IfoundtheErl-Kingsittingonanivy-coveredstumpwindingallthebirdsinthewoodtohimonadiatonicspoolofsound,onerisingnote,onefallingnote;suchasweetpiergcallthatdowntherecameasoft,chirrupingjostleofbirds.Theclearingwasclutteredwithdeadleaves,somethecolourofhoney,somethecolourofders,somethecolourofearth.HeseemedsomuchthespiritoftheplaceIsawwithoutsurprisehowthefoxlaiditsmuzzlefearlesslyuponhiskhebrownlightoftheendofthedaydraiothemoist,heavyearth;allsilent,allstillandtheellofnighting.Thefirstdropsofrainfell.Inthewood,erbuthiscottage.
ThatwasthewayIwalkedintothebird-hauntedsolitudeoftheErl-King,whokeepshisfeatheredthingsinlittlecageshehaswovenoutofsaheysitandsingforhim.
Goatsmilktodrink,fromachippedtinmug;weshalleattheoatcakeshehasbakedonthehearthstotleoftherainontheroof.Thelatchksonthedoor;weareshutupihoher,inthebrownroomcrispwiththestlogsthatshiverwithtinyflame,andIliedownontheErl-Kingscreakingpalliasseofstraw.Hisskinisthetintaureofsourcream,hehasstiff,russetnipplesripeasberries.Likeatreethatbearsblossomandfruitonthesameboughtogether,howpleasing,howlovely.
Andnow--ach!Ifeelyoursharpteethinthesubaqueousdepthsofyourkisses.Theequinoticalgalesseizethebareelmsandmakethemwhizzandwhirllikedervishes;yousinkyourteethintomythroatandmakemescream.
Thewhitemoonabovetheclearingcoldlyillumihestilltableauxofourembrats.HowsweetIroamed,or,rather,usedtoroam;onceIwastheperfectchildofthemeadowsofsummer,butthentheyearturhelightclarifiedandIsawthegauntErl-King,tallasatreewithbirdsinitsbranches,andhedrewmetowardshimonhismagiclassoofinhumanmusic.IfIstrungthatoldfiddlewithyourhair,wecouldwaltztogethertothemusicastheexhausteddaylightfoundersamorees;weshouldhavebettermusitheshrillprothalamionsofthelarksstackedintheirprettycagesastheroofcreakswiththefreightofbirdsyouveluredtoitwhileweengageinyourprofaeriesuheleaves.
Hestripsmetomylastnakedhatunderskinofmauve,pearlisedsatin,likeaskinnedrabbit;thendressesmeagaininanembracesoludenpassingitmightbemadeofwater.AndshakesovermedeadleavesasifintothestreamIhavebee.
Sometimesthebirds,atrandom,allsinging,strikeachord.
Hisskincoversmeentirely;weareliketwohalvesofaseed,enclosedinthesameintegument.Ishouldliketogrowenormouslysmall,sothatyoucouldswallowme,likethosequeensinfairytaleswhoceivewhentheyswallowagrainoforasesameseed.ThenIcouldlodgeinsideyourbodyandyoucouldbearme.
Thedlefluttersa.Histouchbothsolesaatesme;Ifeelmyheartpulse,thenwither,nakedasastohermattresswhilethelovely,moonynightslidesthroughthewindoletheflanksofthisiwhomakescagestokeepthesweetbirdsime,drihirsty,kered,goblin-ridden,Igobadbatohavehisfiripthetatteredskinawayandeinhisdressofwater,thisgarmentthatdrenchesme,itsslitheringodour,itscapacityfordrowning.
Nowthecrowsdropwinterfromtheirwings,iheharshestseasonwiththeircry.
Itisgrowingcolder.Scarcelyaleafleftoreesandthebirdsetohimiernumbersbecause,inthishardweather,itisleanpigs.Theblackbirdsandthrushesmusthuntthesnailsfromhedgebottomsandcracktheshellsonstones.ButtheErl-Kinggivesthemandwhenhewhistlestothemamomentlateryouotseehimforthebirdsthathavecoveredhimlikeasoftfalloffeatheredsnow.Hespreadsoutagoblioffruitforme,suchappallingsucce;Ilieabovehimahelightfromthefiresuckedintotheblackvortexofhiseye,theomissionoflightatthetre,there,thatexertsonmesuchatremendouspressure,itdrawsmeinwards.
Eyesgreenasapples.Greenasdeadseafruit.
Awindrises;itmakesasingular,wild,low,rushingsound.
Whatbigeyesyouhave.Eyesofaninparableluminosity,thenuminousphosphoresceoftheeyesoflythropes.Thegelidgreenofyoureyesfixesmyreflectiveface.Itisapreservative,likeagreenliquidamber;itcatchesme.IamafraidIwillbetrappedinitforeverlikethepoorlittleantsandfliesthatstucktheirfeetinresinbeforetheseacoveredtheBaltic.Hewiothecircleofhiseyeonareelofbirdsong.Thereisablackholeinthemiddleofbothyoureyes;itistheirstilltre,lookingtheremakesmegiddy,asifImightfallintoit.
Yreeneyeisaredugchamber.IfIlookintoitlongenough,Iwillbeeassmallasmyownrefle,Iwilldiminishtoapointandvanish.Iwillbedrawndownintothatblackwhirlpoolandbeedbyyou.Ishallbeesosmallyoukeepmeinoneofyouresandmockmylossofliberty.Ihaveseenthecageyouareweavingforme;itisaveryprettyoneandIshallsit,hereafter,inmycageamohersingingbirdsbutI--Ishallbedumb,fromspite.
WhenIrealisedwhattheErl-Kiodowithme,IwasshakenwithaterriblefearandIdidnotknowwhattodoforIlovedhimwithallmyheartaIhadnowishtojointhewhistlinggregatioinhiscagesalthoughhelookedafterthemveryaffeately,gavethemfreshwatereverydayahemwell.Hisembraceswerehisesa,ohyet!theywerethebranchesofwhichthetrapitselfwaswoven.Butinhisinnoeverknewhemightbethedeathofme,althoughIknewfromthefirstmomentIsawhimhowErl-Kingwoulddomegrievousharm.
Althoughthebowhangsbesidetheoldfiddleonthewall,allthestringsarebrokensoyouotplayit.Idontknowwhatkindoftunesyoumightplayonit,ifitwerestrungagain;lullabiesforfoolishvirgins,perhaps,andnowIknowthebirdsdontsing,theyonlycrybecausetheytfindtheirwayoutofthewood,havelosttheirfleshwhentheyaredippedinthecorrosivepoolsofhisregardandnowmustliveincages.
Sometimeshelayshisheadonmylapasmebhislovelyhairforhim;hisbingsareleavesofeverytreeinthewoodanddrylysusurratearoundmyfeet.Hishairfallsdownovermyknees.SilencelikeadreaminfrontofthespittingfirewhileheliesatmyfeetandIbthedeadleavesoutofhislanguoroushair.Therobinhasbuilthisichagain,thisyear;heperchesonanunburntlog,shisbeak,ruffleshisplumage.Thereisaplaintivesweetnessinhissongaainmelancholy,becausetheyearisover--therobin,thefriendofman,inspiteofthewoundinhisbreastfromwhichErl-Kingtoreouthisheart.LayyourheadonmykhatItseethegreenishinward-turningsunsofyoureyesanymore.Myhandsshake.
Ishalltaketwohugehandfulsofhisrustlinghairashelieshalfdreaming,halfwaking,andwioropes,verysoftly,sohewillnot,andsoftly,withhandsasgentleasrain,Iwillstranglehimwiththem.
Thenshewillopenallthecagesahebirdsfree;theywillgebatoyounggirls,everyone,eachwiththecrimsonimprintofhislove-biteohroats.Shewillcarveoffhisgreatmahtheknifeheusestoskintherabbits;shewillstringtheoldfiddlewithfivesiringsofash-brownhair.
Thenitwillplaydiscordantmusicwithoutahandtougit.Thebowwilldanceovertheringsofitsownaccordandwillcryout:"Mother,mother,youhavemurderedme!"松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
Hecouldthrustmeintotheseed-bedofyearsgeionandIwouldhavetowaituntilhewhistledmeupfrommydarknessbeforeIcouldebackagain.
Yet,whenheshakesoutthosetwoclearnotesfromhisbirdcall,Ie,likeanyothertrustingthingthatperchesonthecrookofhiswrist.IfoundtheErl-Kingsittingonanivy-coveredstumpwindingallthebirdsinthewoodtohimonadiatonicspoolofsound,onerisingnote,onefallingnote;suchasweetpiergcallthatdowntherecameasoft,chirrupingjostleofbirds.Theclearingwasclutteredwithdeadleaves,somethecolourofhoney,somethecolourofders,somethecolourofearth.HeseemedsomuchthespiritoftheplaceIsawwithoutsurprisehowthefoxlaiditsmuzzlefearlesslyuponhiskhebrownlightoftheendofthedaydraiothemoist,heavyearth;allsilent,allstillandtheellofnighting.Thefirstdropsofrainfell.Inthewood,erbuthiscottage.
ThatwasthewayIwalkedintothebird-hauntedsolitudeoftheErl-King,whokeepshisfeatheredthingsinlittlecageshehaswovenoutofsaheysitandsingforhim.
Goatsmilktodrink,fromachippedtinmug;weshalleattheoatcakeshehasbakedonthehearthstotleoftherainontheroof.Thelatchksonthedoor;weareshutupihoher,inthebrownroomcrispwiththestlogsthatshiverwithtinyflame,andIliedownontheErl-Kingscreakingpalliasseofstraw.Hisskinisthetintaureofsourcream,hehasstiff,russetnipplesripeasberries.Likeatreethatbearsblossomandfruitonthesameboughtogether,howpleasing,howlovely.
Andnow--ach!Ifeelyoursharpteethinthesubaqueousdepthsofyourkisses.Theequinoticalgalesseizethebareelmsandmakethemwhizzandwhirllikedervishes;yousinkyourteethintomythroatandmakemescream.
Thewhitemoonabovetheclearingcoldlyillumihestilltableauxofourembrats.HowsweetIroamed,or,rather,usedtoroam;onceIwastheperfectchildofthemeadowsofsummer,butthentheyearturhelightclarifiedandIsawthegauntErl-King,tallasatreewithbirdsinitsbranches,andhedrewmetowardshimonhismagiclassoofinhumanmusic.IfIstrungthatoldfiddlewithyourhair,wecouldwaltztogethertothemusicastheexhausteddaylightfoundersamorees;weshouldhavebettermusitheshrillprothalamionsofthelarksstackedintheirprettycagesastheroofcreakswiththefreightofbirdsyouveluredtoitwhileweengageinyourprofaeriesuheleaves.
Hestripsmetomylastnakedhatunderskinofmauve,pearlisedsatin,likeaskinnedrabbit;thendressesmeagaininanembracesoludenpassingitmightbemadeofwater.AndshakesovermedeadleavesasifintothestreamIhavebee.
Sometimesthebirds,atrandom,allsinging,strikeachord.
Hisskincoversmeentirely;weareliketwohalvesofaseed,enclosedinthesameintegument.Ishouldliketogrowenormouslysmall,sothatyoucouldswallowme,likethosequeensinfairytaleswhoceivewhentheyswallowagrainoforasesameseed.ThenIcouldlodgeinsideyourbodyandyoucouldbearme.
Thedlefluttersa.Histouchbothsolesaatesme;Ifeelmyheartpulse,thenwither,nakedasastohermattresswhilethelovely,moonynightslidesthroughthewindoletheflanksofthisiwhomakescagestokeepthesweetbirdsime,drihirsty,kered,goblin-ridden,Igobadbatohavehisfiripthetatteredskinawayandeinhisdressofwater,thisgarmentthatdrenchesme,itsslitheringodour,itscapacityfordrowning.
Nowthecrowsdropwinterfromtheirwings,iheharshestseasonwiththeircry.
Itisgrowingcolder.Scarcelyaleafleftoreesandthebirdsetohimiernumbersbecause,inthishardweather,itisleanpigs.Theblackbirdsandthrushesmusthuntthesnailsfromhedgebottomsandcracktheshellsonstones.ButtheErl-Kinggivesthemandwhenhewhistlestothemamomentlateryouotseehimforthebirdsthathavecoveredhimlikeasoftfalloffeatheredsnow.Hespreadsoutagoblioffruitforme,suchappallingsucce;Ilieabovehimahelightfromthefiresuckedintotheblackvortexofhiseye,theomissionoflightatthetre,there,thatexertsonmesuchatremendouspressure,itdrawsmeinwards.
Eyesgreenasapples.Greenasdeadseafruit.
Awindrises;itmakesasingular,wild,low,rushingsound.
Whatbigeyesyouhave.Eyesofaninparableluminosity,thenuminousphosphoresceoftheeyesoflythropes.Thegelidgreenofyoureyesfixesmyreflectiveface.Itisapreservative,likeagreenliquidamber;itcatchesme.IamafraidIwillbetrappedinitforeverlikethepoorlittleantsandfliesthatstucktheirfeetinresinbeforetheseacoveredtheBaltic.Hewiothecircleofhiseyeonareelofbirdsong.Thereisablackholeinthemiddleofbothyoureyes;itistheirstilltre,lookingtheremakesmegiddy,asifImightfallintoit.
Yreeneyeisaredugchamber.IfIlookintoitlongenough,Iwillbeeassmallasmyownrefle,Iwilldiminishtoapointandvanish.Iwillbedrawndownintothatblackwhirlpoolandbeedbyyou.Ishallbeesosmallyoukeepmeinoneofyouresandmockmylossofliberty.Ihaveseenthecageyouareweavingforme;itisaveryprettyoneandIshallsit,hereafter,inmycageamohersingingbirdsbutI--Ishallbedumb,fromspite.
WhenIrealisedwhattheErl-Kiodowithme,IwasshakenwithaterriblefearandIdidnotknowwhattodoforIlovedhimwithallmyheartaIhadnowishtojointhewhistlinggregatioinhiscagesalthoughhelookedafterthemveryaffeately,gavethemfreshwatereverydayahemwell.Hisembraceswerehisesa,ohyet!theywerethebranchesofwhichthetrapitselfwaswoven.Butinhisinnoeverknewhemightbethedeathofme,althoughIknewfromthefirstmomentIsawhimhowErl-Kingwoulddomegrievousharm.
Althoughthebowhangsbesidetheoldfiddleonthewall,allthestringsarebrokensoyouotplayit.Idontknowwhatkindoftunesyoumightplayonit,ifitwerestrungagain;lullabiesforfoolishvirgins,perhaps,andnowIknowthebirdsdontsing,theyonlycrybecausetheytfindtheirwayoutofthewood,havelosttheirfleshwhentheyaredippedinthecorrosivepoolsofhisregardandnowmustliveincages.
Sometimeshelayshisheadonmylapasmebhislovelyhairforhim;hisbingsareleavesofeverytreeinthewoodanddrylysusurratearoundmyfeet.Hishairfallsdownovermyknees.SilencelikeadreaminfrontofthespittingfirewhileheliesatmyfeetandIbthedeadleavesoutofhislanguoroushair.Therobinhasbuilthisichagain,thisyear;heperchesonanunburntlog,shisbeak,ruffleshisplumage.Thereisaplaintivesweetnessinhissongaainmelancholy,becausetheyearisover--therobin,thefriendofman,inspiteofthewoundinhisbreastfromwhichErl-Kingtoreouthisheart.LayyourheadonmykhatItseethegreenishinward-turningsunsofyoureyesanymore.Myhandsshake.
Ishalltaketwohugehandfulsofhisrustlinghairashelieshalfdreaming,halfwaking,andwioropes,verysoftly,sohewillnot,andsoftly,withhandsasgentleasrain,Iwillstranglehimwiththem.
Thenshewillopenallthecagesahebirdsfree;theywillgebatoyounggirls,everyone,eachwiththecrimsonimprintofhislove-biteohroats.Shewillcarveoffhisgreatmahtheknifeheusestoskintherabbits;shewillstringtheoldfiddlewithfivesiringsofash-brownhair.
Thenitwillplaydiscordantmusicwithoutahandtougit.Thebowwilldanceovertheringsofitsownaccordandwillcryout:"Mother,mother,youhavemurderedme!"松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
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并不代表本站立场!本站亦无法严格审:The Bloody chamber And Other Stories最新章节其版权归属。如您对The Bloody chamber And Other StoriesTXT下载持有版权方面的异议，请联系本站客服。我们将于72小时内处理。
Copyright (C) 2019 All Rights Reserved 版权所有：松语文学