English Original
When I was a child in the Netherlands, I often begged my mother to tell me this story about her family at the end of World War II.
During the last harsh winter of the German occupation, food was desperately scarce. People began eating tulip bulbs to survive. My mother's family, the Van der Veldes, had run a successful tulip business for centuries in Ridderkerk. The war shut it down. My grandfather, Arnoldus, donated almost all his bulbs to feed the hungriest villagers.
He kept only a few irreplaceable bulbs. For years, he had been trying to cultivate a black tulip, a gardener's dream. He was close, having created a rare dark-purple tulip through careful selection. He guarded these last bulbs fiercely, believing they were the key to restarting his business and rebuilding the village after the war.
When the war ended, celebrations were short-lived. Retreating German soldiers looted and caused destruction. Seeing his children pale and thin, Arnoldus agonized over whether to feed them the precious bulbs. He decided it was time and went to the garden with a shovel. There, he found his seven-year-old daughter, Albertha, looking agitated.
"Papa! I must tell you something!" she said. Over her shoulder, Arnoldus saw drunken German looters approaching. He told Albertha to run inside and frantically dug for his bulbs—only to find them gone.
Enraged, he ran into the street, screaming, "They have stolen my tulip bulbs!" From the doorway, Albertha cried out and ran to stop him. A German soldier raised his pistol and shot Arnoldus for violating the curfew.
Arnoldus survived but recovered slowly, full of regret. One day, sitting outside, he noticed green shoots sprouting from the rubble of their neighbor's bombed house. He pointed them out to Albertha.
Suddenly, she broke down in hysterical tears. Between sobs, she confessed: those were his black tulip bulbs. She told him how, just before he was shot, a friendly German soldier named Carl Meier had warned her that looters were coming. He urged her to hide the remaining bulbs. With no time to get her father, Albertha dug them up with her bare hands and reburied them in the neighboring rubble.
When she returned, she found her father digging and tried to tell him, but he was too intent. After he was shot, she tried to retrieve the bulbs to cheer him but found them buried under a collapsed wall. Heartbroken, she decided never to tell.
Over winter, ice formed in the wall's cracks, gently forcing them apart. In spring, the ice melted, and the tender shoots pushed toward the sun.
Arnoldus had survived, and so had his bulbs. Starting with those few bulbs, he rebuilt his business. The rare dark-purple tulips became a great source of income and jobs for Ridderkerk, symbolizing hope and renewal for the village and the Netherlands.
The family never found Carl Meier. To honor his courage and kindness, they named my mother's newborn brother Karel—the Dutch version of Carl.
中文翻译
小时候在荷兰，我常央求母亲讲述她家在二战末期经历的这个故事。
在德军占领的最后一个严冬，食物极度匮乏。人们开始靠吃郁金香球茎维生。我母亲的家族——范德维尔德家，在里德凯尔克村经营郁金香生意已有数百年，十分成功。战争使生意停滞。我的外祖父阿诺德斯几乎捐出了所有的球茎来喂养最饥饿的村民。
他只留下了几个无可替代的球茎。多年来，他一直试图培育一种黑郁金香，这是园艺家的梦想。通过精心选育，他已培育出一种罕见的深紫色郁金香，离成功很近。他拼命守护着这最后几个球茎，相信它们是战后重振家业、重建村庄的关键。
战争结束时，欢庆是短暂的。撤退的德军士兵一路抢劫破坏。看着孩子们苍白瘦弱，阿诺德斯痛苦地挣扎是否该用珍贵的球茎喂饱他们。最终他下定决心，拿起铁锹走进花园。在那里，他发现了七岁的女儿阿尔贝塔，她看起来焦虑不安。
“爸爸！我必须告诉你一件事！”她说。阿诺德斯从她肩头望去，看见一群醉醺醺的德国抢劫者正沿街走来。他让阿尔贝塔跑进屋里，然后发疯似地挖掘他的球茎——却发现它们不见了。
他愤怒地冲上街道，大喊：“他们偷了我的郁金香球茎！”门口的阿尔贝塔哭喊着跑过去想拦住他。一名德国士兵举枪射击，罪名是阿诺德斯违反了宵禁。
阿诺德斯活了下来，但恢复缓慢，心中充满悔恨。一天，他坐在屋外，注意到邻居被炸毁房屋的瓦砾堆中冒出了绿色的嫩芽。他指给阿尔贝塔看。
突然，她歇斯底里地大哭起来。她抽泣着坦白：那就是他的黑郁金香球茎。她讲述了经过：就在父亲中枪前，一位名叫卡尔·迈尔的友善德国士兵警告她抢劫者要来了，催促她把剩下的球茎藏起来。来不及通知父亲，阿尔贝塔用双手挖出球茎，重新埋在了隔壁的瓦砾堆里。
她回来时，发现父亲正在挖掘，想告诉他却被他忽略了。父亲中枪后，她想取回球茎让他振作，却发现它们被一堵倒塌的墙压住了。心碎之下，她决定永远不说出这个秘密。
冬天，冰在墙缝中形成，轻轻地将缝隙撑开。春天，冰雪消融，柔嫩的芽苗向着阳光生长出来。
阿诺德斯活了下来，他的球茎也幸存了。从这几个球茎开始，他重建了事业。这种罕见的深紫色郁金香为里德凯尔克村带来了巨大的收入和就业机会，象征着村庄乃至荷兰的希望与重生。
家人始终未能找到卡尔·迈尔。为了纪念他的勇气与善良，他们为我母亲次年出生的弟弟取名“卡雷尔”——荷兰语的“卡尔”。