Fleur reached the flower market at four in the morning. The street was dark and cold. Only the lamps over the stalls glowed.
弗勒尔凌晨四点赶到花卉市场。街上又黑又冷，只有摊位上方的灯在发光。
Her stall was the last one in the row. Ismael sat on a crate by the counter. He held a small box.
她的摊位在这一排的最后一个。伊斯梅尔坐在柜台边的一只木箱上，手里拿着一个小盒子。
"You are late," he said.
“你迟到了，”他说。
"It is four o'clock," said Fleur. "Nobody is late at four."
“现在才四点，”弗勒尔说，“四点钟谁也不算迟到。”
"Look at this." Ismael opened the box. Inside lay a folded paper. "I found it under the counter."
“看看这个。”伊斯梅尔打开盒子，里面躺着一张折起来的纸，“我在柜台下面找到的。”
Fleur unfolded the paper. It was a recipe, written in pencil. The top said, "Wake-Up Water for Sleepy Flowers." The letters were small and soft. In some places the pencil was almost gone.
弗勒尔展开那张纸。那是一张配方，用铅笔写的。顶上写着：“唤醒瞌睡花朵的醒神水”。字迹又小又软，有些地方的铅笔印已经快要看不见了。
"Sleepy flowers?" She laughed. "Who writes a thing like that?"
“瞌睡的花朵？”她笑了，“谁会写这种东西？”
"Someone who knew this stall," said Ismael. "Come and see the buckets."
“一个熟悉这个摊位的人，”伊斯梅尔说，“来看看那些桶吧。”
Fleur turned around. Fifty buckets of roses stood in the dark. Every rose was shut tight. They looked like little fists.
弗勒尔转过身。五十桶玫瑰立在黑暗里，每一朵都紧紧闭着，像一个个小拳头。
"Oh no," she said. "The hotel van comes at six."
“糟了，”她说，“酒店的车六点就来。”
"What do they want?" asked Ismael.
“他们要什么？”伊斯梅尔问。
"Three hundred open roses for their tables. My mother promised them last week."
“三百朵盛开的玫瑰，摆在他们的餐桌上。我妈妈上周答应了人家。”
Ismael looked up at the black sky. "The sun comes up at seven."
伊斯梅尔抬头望着漆黑的天空。“太阳七点才出来。”
"Then we need help." Fleur looked at the paper again. "Or we try this."
“那我们就得找帮手，”弗勒尔又看了看那张纸，“要不，就试试这个。”
Ismael shrugged. "Why not? The roses cannot get any sleepier."
伊斯梅尔耸耸肩。“试试呗。反正玫瑰也不可能更瞌睡了。”
She read the list out loud. "One cup of warm water. Two spoons of honey. A handful of mint."
她大声念出清单：“一杯温水，两勺蜂蜜，一把薄荷。”
"We have honey," said Ismael. "The mint seller is next door."
“蜂蜜我们有，”伊斯梅尔说，“卖薄荷的就在隔壁。”
"There is a pinch of something too. The word is gone." Fleur held the paper under the lamp. "A white stain covers it."
“还有一小撮什么东西，那个词看不清了，”弗勒尔把纸举到灯下，“被一块白渍盖住了。”
"White powder," said Ismael. "It must be salt."
“白色的粉末，”伊斯梅尔说，“肯定是盐。”
"Or sugar."
“也可能是糖。”
"Sugar and honey are both sweet. It must be salt."
“糖和蜂蜜都是甜的，肯定是盐。”
"Salt, then." Fleur read the last line. "Hum one slow song. Pour. Wait."
“那就盐吧，”弗勒尔念出最后一行，“哼一首慢歌。倒下去。等待。”
Ismael ran to the next stall. The mint seller looked up from his chair. He did not look surprised. Ismael asked for a big handful of mint.
伊斯梅尔跑到隔壁摊位。卖薄荷的人坐在椅子上抬起头，一点也不惊讶。伊斯梅尔要了一大把薄荷。
"What for?" asked the man.
“要来做什么？”那人问。
"For sleepy roses," said Ismael.
“给瞌睡的玫瑰用，”伊斯梅尔说。
The man did not laugh. He gave Ismael two handfuls. "Take extra," he said. "It is early."
那人没有笑。他抓了两把给伊斯梅尔。“多拿点，”他说，“毕竟这么早。”
Back at the stall, Fleur lit the small stove. She warmed the water in a pot. She added the honey, the mint and one pinch of salt. The smell was sweet and strange.
回到摊位，弗勒尔点燃小炉子，在锅里把水烧温，加进蜂蜜、薄荷和一小撮盐。那气味又甜又怪。
Then she hummed a slow song. It was a soft song her mother sang. Ismael poured the water over every bucket.
然后她哼起一首慢歌，是她妈妈常唱的轻柔曲调。伊斯梅尔把水浇在每一只桶里。
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then a sound came from the nearest bucket. It was low and slow, like a tiny breath. Then it came again.
很长一会儿，什么也没有发生。接着，最近的那只桶里传来一阵声音，低低的，慢慢的，像一口小小的呼吸。过了一会儿，又响了一次。
"Ismael," whispered Fleur. "Are they snoring?"
“伊斯梅尔，”弗勒尔小声说，“它们是在打呼噜吗？”
Ismael leaned closer. The sound came from all the buckets now. Fifty buckets of roses snored together. The heads of the flowers dropped even lower.
伊斯梅尔凑近了听。现在，所有的桶里都在响。五十桶玫瑰一起打着呼噜，花头垂得更低了。
"We made it worse," he said. "We sang them a lullaby!"
“我们把事情搞砸了，”他说，“我们给它们唱了一首摇篮曲！”
"The paper said a slow song!"
“纸上写的是慢歌！”
"The paper also forgot a word!" Ismael checked his phone. "It is five o'clock. We have one hour."
“纸上还漏了一个词呢！”伊斯梅尔看了一眼手机，“已经五点了。我们只剩一个小时。”
Fleur sat down on the crate. She put her face in her hands. The roses snored in the quiet.
弗勒尔在木箱上坐下，双手捂住了脸。玫瑰们在寂静中呼呼打着鼾。
"My mother will lose the hotel," she said. "They will buy their flowers somewhere else."
“我妈妈会丢掉酒店这笔生意的，”她说，“他们会去别处买花。”
Ismael did not answer at first. He stood and looked at the pot. Steam rose from the warm water. It smelled of mint and honey.
伊斯梅尔起先没有回答。他站起来，看着那口锅。热水冒着蒸汽，散发着薄荷和蜂蜜的味道。
"At my house, an alarm clock never works," he said. "Nobody gets up for it."
“我家的闹钟从来不管用，”他说，“没人听它的。”
"So?"
“那又怎样？”
"We get up when we smell breakfast." He grinned. "Nothing wakes my family faster."
“我们都是闻到早饭的香味才起床，”他咧嘴一笑，“再没有什么比这更能叫醒我们一家人了。”
Fleur looked up. "You want to give the roses breakfast."
弗勒尔抬起头。“你是想给玫瑰们吃早饭。”
"Everything else failed. Why not?"
“别的办法都失败了，何不试试？”
They worked fast. They threw away the salty water. Ismael made a new pot with only honey and mint. They poured it into a wide pan. They put it between the buckets. Fleur waved her hat over the steam. The sweet smell drifted over the roses.
他们动作飞快。他们把咸水倒掉，伊斯梅尔重新煮了一锅，这次只放蜂蜜和薄荷。他们把它倒进一只宽口平底锅，放在几排桶的中间。弗勒尔用帽子朝蒸汽扇着风，甜香飘过了玫瑰丛。
"Now we need a fast song," said Ismael. "A happy one."
“现在我们需要一首快歌，”伊斯梅尔说，“要欢快的。”
"Not a lullaby?"
“不要摇篮曲了？”
"Never again."
“再也不要了。”
Ismael sang the silly song from his school football games. Fleur clapped the beat. The song was loud and bad. But it was certainly a morning song.
伊斯梅尔唱起了他在学校足球赛上唱的那首傻乎乎的歌，弗勒尔拍手打着节拍。歌声又响又难听，可它无疑是一首早晨的歌。
At first nothing happened. Then one rose near the front gave a small shake. Its petals opened a little. They moved like someone stretching in bed.
起初什么也没发生。然后，前排的一朵玫瑰轻轻抖了一下，花瓣微微张开了一点，动作就像有人在床上伸懒腰。
"Look!" said Fleur.
“看！”弗勒尔说。
Another rose opened. Then another. Soon the whole row stirred. Petals opened with soft sounds, like paper. The roses leaned toward the warm pan. Some of them glowed a little, pink in the lamplight.
又一朵玫瑰绽开了。接着又是一朵。很快，整排花都骚动起来。花瓣张开时发出轻轻的声响，像纸一样。玫瑰们朝着那口温热的平底锅倾过身来，有几朵在灯光下微微发亮，透出粉红。
By half past five, the first buckets were open. At a quarter to six, three hundred roses were open and perfect. The market smelled like a garden. Even the mint seller clapped from his chair.
五点半的时候，最前面的几桶已经开了。差一刻六点，三百朵玫瑰全都盛开了，完美无缺。整个市场闻起来像一座花园。就连卖薄荷的人也坐在椅子上鼓起了掌。
The hotel van stopped at six. A tall woman climbed out with a list. She walked down the row and touched the flowers.
酒店的车六点准时停下。一位高个子女士拿着清单下了车，沿着那一排走过去，伸手摸了摸花。
"These are beautiful," she said. "They look so awake."
“真漂亮，”她说，“它们看起来这么精神。”
"Thank you," said Fleur. "They had breakfast."
“谢谢，”弗勒尔说，“它们吃过早饭了。”
The woman smiled as if it was a joke. She paid, and two men loaded the buckets into the van. Then the van drove away down the empty street.
女士笑了笑，当这是个玩笑。她付了钱，两个男人把桶搬上车，然后车子驶进空荡荡的街道。
Fleur took the recipe from her pocket. The first sun now lit the stall. She held the paper up to the light. At the bottom, new pencil letters showed in the light.
弗勒尔从口袋里掏出那张配方。第一缕阳光已经照在摊位上。她把纸举到光下，底部有新的铅笔字迹在光里显了出来。
"Listen to this," she said. "P.S. A loud friend works better than salt."
“听听这个，”她说，“附言：嗓门大的朋友，比盐管用。”
Ismael took a deep bow. "I am the loud friend."
伊斯梅尔深深鞠了一躬。“我就是那个嗓门大的朋友。”
"You are," said Fleur. "And I owe you for the morning."
“没错，”弗勒尔说，“今天早上我欠你一个人情。”
"Then I want my pay. Two big spoons of honey."
“那我要我的报酬。两大勺蜂蜜。”
"One spoon," said Fleur. "Your singing was terrible."
“一勺，”弗勒尔说，“你唱得太难听了。”
"But it worked," said Ismael. "Roses love breakfast."
“可是管用啊，”伊斯梅尔说，“玫瑰就爱吃早饭。”
