Lyrics and translation Jay Chou - 上海一九四三 (Live)

上海一九四三 (Live)

泛黃的春聯還殘留在牆上
依稀可見幾個字歲歲平安
在我沒回去過的老家米缸
爺爺用楷書寫一個滿
黃金葛爬滿了雕花的門窗
夕陽斜斜映在斑駁的磚牆
舖著櫸木板的屋內還瀰漫
姥姥當年釀的豆瓣醬
我對著黑白照片開始想像 爸和媽當年的模樣
說著一口吳儂軟語的姑娘緩緩走過外攤
消失的舊時光一九四三在回憶的路上時間變好慢
老街坊小弄堂是屬於那年代白牆黑瓦的淡淡的憂傷
消失的舊時光一九四三回頭看的片段有一些風霜
老唱盤舊皮箱裝滿了明信片的鐵盒裡藏著一片玫瑰花瓣
黃金葛爬滿了雕花的門窗
夕陽斜斜映在斑駁的磚牆
舖著櫸木板的屋內還瀰漫
姥姥當年釀的豆瓣醬
我對著黑白照片開始想像 爸和媽當年的模樣
說著一口吳儂軟語的姑娘緩緩走過外攤
消失的舊時光一九四三在回憶的路上時間變好慢
老街坊小弄堂是屬於那年代白牆黑瓦的淡淡的憂傷
消失的舊時光一九四三回頭看的片段有一些風霜
老唱盤舊皮箱裝滿了明信片的鐵盒裡藏著一片玫瑰花瓣

Shanghai 1943 (Live)

The yellowed Spring Festival couplets still remain on the wall
Vaguely can be seen a few words "May Peace be with You Year After Year"
In my old family home where I have not been back to the old rice bin
Grandpa wrote the Chinese character "full" in regular script
Pothos covers the carved door and window
The setting sun shines obliquely on the mottled brick wall
In the house paved with beech wood there is still the lingering fragrance of
Doubanjiang that grandma brewed back then
I start to imagine the appearance of my Mom and Dad back then looking at the black and white photos
A girl speaking in soft Suzhou dialect walks slowly past the street stall
The bygone old times, 1943, time passes so slowly on the road of memories
The old neighborhood alleyways belong to that era, the white walls and black tiles, and a touch of sadness
The bygone old times, 1943, looking back at the fragments that have a touch of hardship
Old gramophone records, old suitcases filled with postcards, in the tin box hides a rose petal
Pothos covers the carved door and window
The setting sun shines obliquely on the mottled brick wall
In the house paved with beech wood there is still the lingering fragrance of
Doubanjiang that grandma brewed back then
I start to imagine the appearance of my Mom and Dad back then looking at the black and white photos
A girl speaking in soft Suzhou dialect walks slowly past the street stall
The bygone old times, 1943, time passes so slowly on the road of memories
The old neighborhood alleyways belong to that era, the white walls and black tiles, and a touch of sadness
The bygone old times, 1943, looking back at the fragments that have a touch of hardship
Old gramophone records, old suitcases filled with postcards, in the tin box hides a rose petal