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• 曾经有一分真挚的爱情放在我面前

  2007-7-07

  曾经有一分真挚的爱情放在我面前，我没有珍惜，等我失去的时候我才后悔莫及，
  人世间最痛苦的事莫过于此。你的剑在我的咽喉上割下去吧！不用再犹豫了！如果上天
  能够给我一个再来一次的机会，我会对那个女孩子说三个字：我爱你。如果非要在这份
  爱上加上一个期限，我希望是——一万年！

  True love used to be right in front of my eyes before, but i didn't value it. After i lost it,I regret it deeply. Is there anything more painful than this in this world? Slit my throat right now, don't hesitate. If heavens can give me another chance, i will tell that girl 3 words, I love you, if i have to add a limit onto this relation, it would be ten thousand years. (English)

  Il y avait un true amour pour moi,mais je l'ai pas choisi.Je suis si repenti quand je l'ai perdu. ;
  C'est le plus grand mal dans ma vie. Si il y aura une encore chance pour moi,je vais lui dire trois mots: Je t'aime. Si je dois l'ajouter une date contrainte, je souhaite que c'est dix milles ans. (French)

  Früher gab es eine echte Liebe vor mir, die ich aber leider nicht hochgesch&tzt habe.Als ich die verloren habe, habe ich ihren wertvollen Schatz eben erkannt.Die traurigste Dinge nenne ich sie.Wenn God mir noch eine Gelegenheit anbieten k&nnte, würde ich dem M&dchen drei W&rte sagen, "ich liebe Dich!".Wenn die Liebe zeitlich begrentzt werden müsste,hoffe ich 10000 Jahre. (German)

  c'è una amora davanti a me,ma io no ho capito cosa successo,poi no so dove c'è.allora,adesso io conosisco,se darmi occasione,io dico a la ragazza:"ti amo!"se tu poui aveare un tempo : cazzo! dieci mile EIrOT (Italian)

  かつて 纯洁な爱が俺の前に置いていたが 大切にしていなかった。あの爱を 失った时 どんなに后悔したか 分かってきた！世の中に一番つらいことは これしかないと思う。もし 神様から もう一度やらせる机会がくれれば 俺は あの女の子に そう言うのが决まっている――爱してる！もし この爱に期限を付けなければ ならなかったら 仆の希望は：一万年だ (Japanese)

  

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• 恋爱的砂－Sands in Love

  2007-7-06

  恋爱的砂

  很久很久以前，在寂静的海底躺着两粒砂。他们相距两尺。一粒砂爱上了另外一粒。他凝视着两尺开外的意中砂，平安幸福地过了好多年。水下风平浪静，砂粒觉得自己很幸福，因为他知道有自己爱的砂可以让自己凝视，不用管水面上的沧海桑田。

  沙滩上现出了恐龙的脚印。潮水涌来，脚印消失了，没有留下任何痕迹。这与海底的砂粒无关，但是在这一时刻他突然冒出了一个念头：要到自己所爱的砂粒面前对她说爱她。于是砂粒开始了漫长的旅途，他一点一点地滚动，不放过任何一点动力，不管是细如发丝的暗流还是鱼儿们搅起的微弱旋涡。每当有这种力量时，他总是觉得很感谢上苍。

   

  Sands in Love

  A long long time ago, two sands lie at the bottom of the tranquil ocean. They are about two feet away from each other, and one of the sands falls in love with the other. He spends many happy and quiet years gazing at his beloved sand who is two feet away. There is no wave or wind under the deep ocean, and the sand feels happy, because he knows that he can gaze at his beloved one without regarding the swift changes up there on the ocean surface.

  Dinosaur’s footprints begin to appear on the beach. When the tide comes, the footprints disappear and no trace whatsoever is left. Well, this has nothing to do with the sands at the bottom of the ocean, but at this particular moment, an idea crops up in his mind: he wants to stand in front of his beloved sand and tell her that he loves her. So he starts his endless journey. He rolls bit by bit, never letting go of any little motive fore, whether it is a hair-like undercurrent or a small whirl stirred by fishes. Whenever such a force comes his way, he feels very grateful to God.

   

  

   

   

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• Gloomy Sunday

  2007-7-05

  Gloomy Sunday 

  by Rezső Seress (original title "Szomorú Vasárnap")

  Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless
  Dearest the shadows I live with are numberless
  Little white flowers will never awaken you
  Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you
  Angels have no thought of ever returning you
  Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?

  Gloomy Sunday

  Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all
  My heart and I have decided to end it all
  Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad I know
  Let them not weep let them know that I'm glad to go
  Death is no dream for in death I'm caressing you
  With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you

  Gloomy Sunday

  Dreaming, I was only dreaming
  I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here
  Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you
  My heart is telling you how much I wanted you

  Gloomy Sunday

   

  If you would like to download this song, go to http://www.tocnwest.com/music/gloomysunday.mp3.

   

  

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• Confession of a Book Lover

  2007-7-04

  Locked up with my reading, I am completely alone. It's just my book and me. What a delight! No one can read this text, or this page, in my place. Moreover, no one knows what I’m reading. It’s a purely selfish pleasure. In the morning, I’m happier and fresher. I feel renewed. Like an athlete, I’m better at some moments than at others. This morning I’m the best at reading.

   

  My attention is clear and strong.

   

  I’ve always had a close relationship with the written page. It speaks to me, brings me to life, and I respond. Playing a game of give and take, of sensibility and confrontation, I make notes on the pages. My school teachers taught me this method of working, and I’ve never given it up. It’s my way of conversing with the author. All of a sudden I will stop the flow of printed words to intervene with my pencil to pass judgment on or underline a sentence. During the time I hosted “Apostrophes”, I would spend several hours before each show, reviewing my marginal notes. Thus a few minutes sufficed to revive a reading done days earlier.

   

  But the most important part of this method lies elsewhere: making notes in a book is a way of introducing oneself into the text, putting one’s mark on it. It’s a thrilling intellectual business: as a reader, I use the same tools as the author.

   

  Up until the age of 18 I read very little. I limited myself to what was necessary for a secondary-school diploma. I was always busy either playing soccer or falling in love. Then came the day when, as a young columnist, my main responsibility was to read. And I got to like it. My head spun! An unknown passion took hold of me. What happened? For me, it was the intrusion of a new state of being in love. I began to take possession of books and to annotate them. Thus I would tell them, in an only slightly contorted way, how much I liked them or didn’t. Today, 25 years later, I thumb through my books from those days and it’s magic, finding myself face to face with the young man I once was. Sometimes I understand him. Other times I find him hopeless. Certain remarks seem stupid to me now. Others make me happy. I was right about that, I sometimes say to myself.

   

  Twenty-five years later I find the living trace of my thoughts, my sensibilities of that time. That’s why I never lend out my books. I give away the ones of which I have two copies and the ones I’ve never read. But the ones I’ve marked up cannot circulate: they have become my journals, my confessions. To let someone read them would be opening myself up to scrutiny. I would be allowing others to break into me like a burglar breaks into a house.

   

  When I hosted “Apostrophes” I did nothing but read. Today books have serious competitors—theater, film, expositions—that appeal and seduce me. When I retired from the show about a year ago, I started going to films again. I enjoyed them all. They aroused my curiosity and gave me great pleasure. This is no longer always the case. My critical spirit has returned. But what record do I have of my emotions? I can’t make notes on a piece of film. And a movie will never tell me who I was in my youth.

   

  If I were a book, I would hate the pleasure that other forms of art provide. The pleasure that distracts men, women, and children from the pleasure that I, a book, could give. But would I really have all that much to worry about? After all, going to the theater is a little complicated. Seeing a film involves a lot of running around. And watching TV requires that one stay home, and keep zapping. But I, a book, can go anywhere—in my reader’s pocket, when he gets on a bus, takes a train, waits in line for a haircut. In fact, my only real competition is the Walkman, which can also be taken anywhere and provides a one-on-one relationship.

   

  Dangerous, this Walkman? Yes and no. Everything comes in cycles. One day people will have had enough noise. They’ll be brave. And, I’m certain, they’ll take a good ballpoint pen and start making notes in books!

   

  

   

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