I’ve got no future
I know my days are few
The presemt’s, not that pleasant
Just a lot of things to do
I thought the past would last me
But the darkness got there too.

I should’ve seen it coming
It was red behind your eyes
You’re young and it was summer
I just had to take a dive
Winning you was easy
But darkness was the price.

I don’t smoke no cigarette
I don’t drink no alcohol
I ain’t had much loving yet
But that’s always been your call
I don’t miss it baby
I got no taste for anything at all

I used to love the rainbow
And I used to love the view
Another early morning
I pretend that it was new
But I caught the darkness, baby
And I got it worse than you.

I caught the darkness
It was drinking from your cup
I caught the darkness
Drinking from your cup
I said, “Is this contagious?”
You said, “Just drink it up.”

随机日志

• 你永远都无法叫醒一个装睡的人
• 只是听着你的声音
• 他们把什么都屏蔽了
• Velvet Belly
• 有种感觉

你看到你脚下的路，别人走过的泥泞，你看前面和后面的人，你看见一切都还没有发生：故事里的报应还没有发生，逆转结局迟迟不来。灵感没有从天而降，那张揉烂的奖券也没有任何一个号码是幸运的。幸运在这里根本就不存在，书里充满了骗人的把戏。你开始怀疑，你所生活的世界是那本书的前半部分，还是会不断继续这样写下去？

你看到的答案，不因为问题而提出。你看到的回答，不应为回应而改变。

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• 假期快乐
• 用寒风洗脚
• 端午快乐
• 不眠不休
• 夏天又一次到了

Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am home again.
Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am whole again.

Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am young again.
Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am fun again.

However far away,
I will always love you.
However long I stay,
I will always love you.
Whatever words I say,
I will always love you;
I will always love you.

Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am free again.
Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am clean again.

However far away,
I will always love you.
However long I stay,
I will always love you.
Whatever words I say,
I will always love you;
I will always love you.

随机日志

• 旅行
• 网络
• 说故事的人
• 早晨不早
• Ne me quitte pas

还没有冬天的时候，于博鳌与海口。
最后应邀附送胖了后的照片一张。

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• 杭州
• 门头沟
• 大连
• 木兰围场
• 冲绳－4：海

现在在杭州机场等着不靠谱的厦航已经延误的航班改签的更不靠谱的山东航班是否能够准时到达。

去一个AL开头的公司提案，路上发生了无数奇异的巧合事件：昨天说的冷笑话转眼成真，出租车上的DM杂志刊名就是刚刚说的话，酒店恰巧是1688号房。希望一切如同这些巧合一样顺利和充满了惊奇感。

明天回厦门，又一年就这么过去了。转眼在北京两年时间。一切目前尚好。

相关日志

• 有个海岛
• 门头沟
• 大连
• 木兰围场
• 冲绳－4：海

LEONARD COHEN – HOW I GOT MY SONG

It is a great honour to stand here before you tonight. Perhaps, like the great maestro, Riccardo Muti, I’m not used to standing in front of an audience without an orchestra behind me, but I will do my best as a solo artist tonight.

I stayed up all night last night wondering what I might say to this assembly. After I had eaten all the chocolate bars and peanuts from the minibar, I scribbled a few words. I don’t think I have to refer to them. Obviously, I’m deeply touched to be recognized by the Foundation. But I have come here tonight to express another dimension of gratitude; I think I can do it in three or four minutes.

When I was packing in Los Angeles, I had a sense of unease because I’ve always felt some ambiguity about an award for poetry. Poetry comes from a place that no one commands, that no one conquers. So I feel somewhat like a charlatan to accept an award for an activity which I do not command. In other words, if I knew where the good songs came from I would go there more often.

I was compelled in the midst of that ordeal of packing to go and open my guitar. I have a Conde guitar, which was made in Spain in the great workshop at number 7 Gravina Street. I pick up an instrument I acquired over 40 years ago. I took it out of the case, I lifted it, and it seemed to be filled with helium it was so light. And I brought it to my face and I put my face close to the beautifully designed rosette, and I inhaled the fragrance of the living wood. We know that wood never dies. I inhaled the fragrance of the cedar as fresh as the first day that I acquired the guitar. And a voice seemed to say to me, “You are an old man and you have not said thank you, you have not brought your gratitude back to the soil from which this fragrance arose. And so I come here tonight to thank the soil and the soul of this land that has given me so much.

Because I know that just as an identity card is not a man, a credit rating is not a country.

Now, you know of my deep association and confraternity with the poet Frederico Garcia Lorca. I could say that when I was a young man, an adolescent, and I hungered for a voice, I studied the English poets and I knew their work well, and I copied their styles, but I could not find a voice. It was only when I read, even in translation, the works of Lorca that I understood that there was a voice. It is not that I copied his voice; I would not dare. But he gave me permission to find a voice, to locate a voice, that is to locate a self, a self that that is not fixed, a self that struggles for its own existence.

As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice. What were these instructions? The instructions were never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity and beauty.

And so I had a voice, but I did not have an instrument. I did not have a song.

And now I’m going to tell you very briefly a story of how I got my song.

I was an indifferent guitar player. I managed a few chords. I only knew a few of them. I sat around with my college friends, drinking and singing the folk songs and the popular songs of the day, but I never in a thousand years thought of myself as a musician or as a singer.

One day in the early sixties, I was visiting my mother’s house in Montreal. Her house was beside a park and in the park was a tennis court where many people come to watch the beautiful young tennis players enjoy their sport. I wandered back to this park which I’d known since my childhood, and there was a young man playing a guitar. He was playing a flamenco guitar, and he was surrounded by two or three girls and boys who were listening to him. I loved the way he played. There was something about the way he played that captured me. It was the way that I wanted to play and knew that I would never be able to play.

And, I sat there with the other listeners for a few moments and when there was a silence, an appropriate silence, I asked him if he would give me guitar lessons. He was a young man from Spain, and we could only communicate in my broken French and his broken French. He didn’t speak English. And he agreed to give me guitar lessons. I pointed to my mother’s house which you could see from the tennis court, and we made an appointment and settled a price.

He came to my mother’s house the next day and he said, “Let me hear you play something.” I tried to play something, and he said, “You don’t know how to play, do you?’

I said, “No, I don’t know how to play.” He said “First of all, let me tune your guitar. It’s all out of tune.” So he took the guitar, and he tuned it. He said, “It’s not a bad guitar.” It wasn’t the Conde, but it wasn’t a bad guitar. So, he handed it back to me. He said, “Now play.”

I couldn’t play any better.

He said “Let me show you some chords.” And he took the guitar, and he produced a sound from that guitar I had never heard. And he played a sequence of chords with a tremolo, and he said, “Now you do it.” I said, “It’s out of the question. I can’t possibly do it.” He said, “Let me put your fingers on the frets,” and he put my fingers on the frets. And he said, “Now, now play.”

It was a mess. He said, ” I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He came back tomorrow, he put my hands on the guitar, he placed it on my lap in the way that was appropriate, and I began again with those six chords – a six chord progression. Many, many flamenco songs are based on them.

I was a little better that day. The third day – improved, somewhat improved. But I knew the chords now. And, I knew that although I couldn’t coordinate my fingers with my thumb to produce the correct tremolo pattern, I knew the chords; I knew them very, very well.

The next day, he didn’t come. He didn’t come. I had the number of his, of his boarding house in Montreal. I phoned to find out why he had missed the appointment, and they told me that he had taken his life. That he committed suicide.

I knew nothing about the man. I did not know what part of Spain he came from. I did not know why he came to Montreal. I did not know why he played there. I did not know why he he appeared there at that tennis court. I did not know why he took his life.

I was deeply saddened, of course. But now I disclose something that I’ve never spoken in public. It was those six chords, it was that guitar pattern that has been the basis of all my songs and all my music. So, now you will begin to understand the dimensions of the gratitude I have for this country.

Everything that you have found favourable in my work comes from this place. Everything , everything that you have found favourable in my songs and my poetry are inspired by this soil.

So, I thank you so much for the warm hospitality that you have shown my work because it is really yours, and you have allowed me to affix my signature to the bottom of the page.

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• 两个世界

Don’t matter if the road is long
Don’t matter if it’s steep
Don’t matter if the page is gone
It’s written that we’ll meet
I loved you when you opened
Like a lily to the heat
I loved you when you closes
A thousand kisses deep
I know you had to lie to me
I know you had to cheat
You learned it on your father’s knee
And at your mother’s feet
But did you have to fight your way
Across the burning street
When all our vital interests lay
A thousand kisses deep

相关日志

• 只是听着你的声音