下午，在临摹一幅画，豆瓣电台忽然推荐了这首歌曲给我。Black Box Recorder, 是多少年前的记忆了。
不论是最早的 Girl Singing In The Wreckage，England Made Me 还是三年之后在《The worse of BBR》里面的这首歌，这种源于4AD公司的英伦小调总是在某个午后让人感觉沉迷。“标准英式的对于沉着从容而易使人心迷神乱的情节的酿造，厌世并避世的幽雅的童话故事及绝望疯癫的金斯勃格与不安的叶芝的融合体。”
这是我第几次在这里提到英伦的音乐了？很长时间，我都不喜欢看那种长篇累牍，很学院派的介绍某种类型音乐的写作特点。慢慢的，一点点认真的记录下某一首歌曲带给自己最本质的冲击和内心的感觉，这样才是我喜欢的方式。
曾经和一个朋友说，那种不停的翻滚涌动着狂暴情绪的文字或者音乐是我承受不来的，这么多年来，每当艺术作品能够轻易的抓住读者或者听众的心，能够让人这么容易的就陷进去，会让我满心充斥着不安。你看，我本就是个缺乏安全感的人。三岛和JAY JAY JONHANSON的东西我怎么都觉得有些许不安，而川端康成和4AD的东西却让人看到了一篇宁静的大海或茫茫的雪花覆盖原野。
hunterso同学和我分享了他几年前的照片。每天我都会浏览大量的照片，在GOOGLE Reader或者Flickr里面。可是，有些作品仿佛能够呼吸一般，有一丝冰凉的空气一点点的涌入血液。来吧，一起呼吸吧。一起跳舞吧。一起奔向远方吧。
Seasons in the Sun
Black Box Recorder
goodbye to you, my trusted friend.
weve known each other since we were nine or ten.
together weve climbed hills and trees,
learned of love and abcs,
skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.
goodbye, my friend.
its hard to die
when all the birds are singing in the sky.
now that spring is in the air
pretty boys are everywhere.
think of me and ill be there.
goodbye, papa, please pray for me.
i was the black sheep of the family.
you tried to teach me right from wrong.
too much wine and too much song.
wonder how i got along.
goodbye, papa.
its hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky.
now that the spring is in the air,
ltherere children everywhere.
when you see them, ill be there.
goodbye, michelle, my precious one.
you gave me love and helped me find the sun.
and every time that i was down,
you would always come around,
and get my feet back on the ground.
goodbye, michele.
its hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky
now that spring is in the air,
with the flowers everywhere,
i wish that we could both be there.
we had joy, we had fun,
we had seasons in the sun,
but the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.
we had joy, we had fun,we had seasons in the sun,
but the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach.
写了首小诗，送给今天过生日的朋友。
你让周身燃起
朝圣者的火焰
宁静的夜空涌动着
万马千钧的力量
你让肮脏的子弹
进入自己的身体
洁净的鲜血
淹没了整个民族
若世间有一物
能让灵魂忘乎所以
那一定是自由
如今的广场弥散的
层层的雾
草木的芳香被恐惧遮掩
手挽着手
我们不至于失去
任何一位兄弟
我们一无所有
只有幻想
漫长的雨季何时会过去
光明就要到来
这么多年了，照片不多。
