[Sarumi] Love Poem /Chap 2/by 白云诗 (Eng. Ver. )
原作 @白云诗
原文第二章
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在放文章之前想先谈谈/坦白一下/消失了很久不好意思一上来就放东西
前几天正好在写文书……其中一个素材用的就是，我在lofter上翻译同人的事情
我那么做的原因其实挺淳朴的，挺爱国的
作为一个外国语学校的二次元学生，我翻墙到国外网站看同人不在话下，lo上的确有很多搬运&翻译宝贝儿们把外网的文章搬过来让我们吃的，超级感动
但是我很想不通，中国地大物博，人才济济，为什么
没有外国人翻墙（虽然他们不用）到lofter上来看我们的文呢？
我不信我们就写的差啊，毕竟数量和质量上我们都远超歪果仁
我想大概不仅是我，也是很多很多同人圈子的宝贝儿们害怕打破文化的壁垒 让自己的作品更加远扬一点
所以当我有能力有热情的时候，我想尽自己的一份力，让更多好的作品给更多人看见
有很多困难我没有预料到（比如神一般忙疯的高一以及会更忙的高二）也有可能会被无视blahblah
但是我至少想尝试着发出属于我们自己声音
也欢迎你加入我一起w
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Fushimi thought that Yata must have slept with various girls before writing down such zealous poems.
Ironically, the truth went to the opposite side. His dear was a virgin.
So when virgin Data got a peep from Fushimi’s back, he was petrified by a whole album of naked women.
‘Uhh, your nosebleed is so sickening, Misaki.’
‘Are you asking me? What the hack are you reading..….!’
‘Tsk.’
Did he have to behave like this when seeing the atlas of human body?
Fushimi wiped away the blood, took of his shirt, threw blood-phobia Yata to the bed, all in an impersonal manner.
‘What do you want to do to me?’
‘Wash my shirt.’
Fushimi answered, again indifferently. Then he turned to the laundry and laughed his head off.
Those girls who write novels for their first love tend to make everything vivacious in their own stories, no matter it’s a man-man or woman-man one. But in the real world, they even blushed for a glance of their idol.
Nevertheless, his poet Yata didn’t have to own a love story with women, and indeed he figured out those fabulous lines.
Just like all the love in the world has been preloaded in his mind.
Fushimi, who used to stay away from the world, wanted to lick the vigorous world like a church mouse.
They met each other at sunset, and naturally became friends, close friends.
‘Such delightful experience to compose with him.’ They said to themselves, silly smiles on their faces.
You know, two words of ‘kindred spirits’, without love or any other emotions, are content enough for us to abandon anything, as it’s so hard to meet a soulmate in your mayfly life.
It didn’t take Fushimi much effort to persuade his roommate to leave. And his request to Yata followed, ‘Would like to be my roommate? It’s so boring to live alone in a vacant room.
He lied to Yata shamelessly, while Yata trusted him wholeheartedly. Consequently he moved from crowded dorm of eight into Fushimi’s cosy apartment.
This is the most costly flat in campus, and the cost accords with its view. A large roof is large enough for them to enjoy the wind and kiss.
‘Why did you rent such a large apartment alone?’ Yata asked while cooling with Fushimi.
‘Cuz I’m waiting for you.’ They laughed ineffably in the warm spring night after Fushimi answered in a direct and shameless manner.
‘Well, my dad died when I was young, and my mum doesn’t care about me at all. The more she’s careless, the more I’m willing to spend her money.’ And you don’t know how much I want to live in a vacant house like this, so that you will come to be with me from nowhere.
Fushimi thought to himself, hiding his eyes behind the glasses, reflecting the calm night and the warm orange light.
‘Don’t be upset! I’ll be with you then!’ Yata suddenly grabbed his hand and yelled.
And I felt that for this I had been waiting long, my poet.
Fushimi turned to Yata, smiling in relief. His face seemed to be comely, with sophisticated calm and sharpness, with some melancholia belong to his age, dizzying Yata with a whiff of wind.
The poet wrote the passionate words on the roof.
‘A lifelong lie,
I wanna lie to my lover,
lying that love lasts lifelong,
because even I die,
the love never changes its life.’
Fushimi believed that it was the best of their times.
The presence of Yata brought a sense of ineffable vigor and vitality to his life.
Contrasting to his wild style, the mini poet was someone emphasizing on life quality. He cleaned the room frequently, converted used films into bookmarks and pen containers, morning called his cameraist violently with his fist, and cooked a variety of dishes full of homely circumstance. The only defect was that he liked vegetables and forced Fushimi to eat as well. It disappointed the carnivore to a large extent.
‘How could you possibly cook pineapple with lettuce? At least it should be with meat, shouldn’t it?’Fushimi tunked the plate and stared into his chef’s eyes, with affectionateness, grudges, and ‘I can really afford it’.
But the chef held his stand and took a large bite to model. ‘It’s good for health, you know.’
Fushimi had to threaten Yata to relieve. ‘Believe it or not, I will eat you if you cook again like a vegetarian.’
Yata acquiesced for a moment, and then he rose from his bowl and retorted with meaningless expression.
‘As your wish.’
Yata's expression, combining purity and sensuality, seduced Fushimi in a certain way. He swallowed and suddenly felt all of the dishes were delicacies.
Yata was panic-stricken to see him rose suddenly, disappeared for a moment and brought his camera back a moment after.
‘Now, repeat your expression again.’
Yata can’t help rolling his eyes towards him. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I wanna taste the wind, the rain, and you.
‘Cause the atmosphere was full of the taste of my love.’
The expert cook wrote such sensual lines in the kitchen, with rice and mushroom and pineapple, together into a dark cuisine, mixing with the flavor of courtship.
‘You’re in love.’ The dean of art department insisted Fushimi’s acceding, especially when he heard that Yata and Fushimi were composing together, he believed it was a waste of talent to let him go. Every week, he talked conscientiously with Fushimi.
‘It has nothing to do with my going to art department.’ Fushimi got the wrong point.
‘But you’re in love.’ The dean repeatedly unshakably. ‘And you are really talented, not only in photographing. If you come to art department, I can introduce you a lot of teachers in the society.’
‘Thanks a lot. I love computer science whole-heartedly.’ Fushimi refused him gently. He enjoyed the dean’s words, and walked back to the dorm with a stupid smile on his face.
It was their first peak of cooperation. They continued to use the blog ‘Misaki’ as Fushimi used before. They not only issued photos of poem, but also travel notes. They were willing to spend 4 hours on the tram and explore the seasons of the city, writing and photographing. They reaped a lot of fans. After all, Fushimi was not the only one who loved Yata’s poem, and Yata was not the only one who loved Fushimi’s photos. Their artistic photos and words enchanted a lot of people.
‘Let’s publish a book if we posted 100 blogs, shall we?’ Yata asked him
Freezing winter enveloped the suburb wilderness. Poems were written by a stick, turning into snow mud by chasing and pushing.
‘Sure.’
Fushimi handed over a bottle of juice to Yata, with black coffee in his own hand. He drew a shape of flame on the foggy window of the cafe with his fine fingers.
‘Brilliant!’ Yata exclaimed.
‘What about drawing one on yours?’ Fushimi mocked him.
It was undeniable that his talents were far more than photographing. He even started drawing and writing, because of his MISAKI.
Different from his sensual photos, his paintings were elegant and beautiful and his words were tasteful enough, surprisingly. On the contrary of his frenzy mind, his voice was soft and chilly, like it was never accustomed to any satirical remarks and was only for sweet talks.
Yata couldn’t even protest such whispers. He threw the manuscripts at Fushimi and yelled, ‘Work on it!’
It’s quite embarrassing that Fushimi had to write on Yata’s behalf for his travel notes section.
Oddly, poet Yata was not an expert at narrating. Every time they wrote an account for travels, Fushimi felt that he was conquered again by his narration style. The basic type was ‘First…Then…And…So…Finally…’
It is virtually emotionless. Fushimi was quite dumbfounding.
Or maybe, he was weary of writing such long-winded story. The poems, written when he wanted, were so glamorous that the paleness of narration could be fully forgiven, just like what he was.
He was short, bad-tempered, stupid, and was always forcing him to eat vegetables. Nevertheless, Fushimi could forgive all the above shortcomings when he saw the dynamic eyes and hearing Yata calling him.
‘Saruhiko!’
It was the best verse of all.