Paroles et traduction V.K克 - 純白 (Live)

純白 (Live)

夜鶯聽懂了 男孩的哭泣
蝴蝶雛菊 充滿 許多好奇
純白的玫瑰 紅色在哪裡
是不是幸福就取決於
微不足道的差異
夜鶯想拯救 男孩的傷心
聖櫟樹上 思索愛的神秘
每夜把故事都講給繁星
不願 悲傷留下痕跡
勇敢的尋覓 拍打著羽翼
為何紅色玫瑰始終 杳無蹤跡
它決定用身體換 一朵緋紅的標記
用歌聲 迎接最後愛的晨曦
為愛而唱 才有意義
刺多鋒利 痛快窒息
血染紅一朵花是悲是喜
它的歌聲 有誰聆聽
到底珍貴是愛情還是生命
誰會憐惜 誰會銘記
愛散落在風中變成追憶
它的歌聲 有誰提起 是否被忘記
夜鶯想拯救 男孩的傷心
聖櫟樹上 思索愛的神秘
每夜把故事都講給繁星
不願 悲傷留下痕跡
勇敢的尋覓 拍打著羽翼
為何紅色玫瑰始終 杳無蹤跡
沒放棄 帶著對愛的憧憬
做什麼都願意
當黎明 破曉前 奮不顧身
愛到絕境 愛才美麗
刺多鋒利 痛快窒息
血染紅一朵花是悲是喜
它的歌聲 有誰聆聽
到底珍貴是愛情還是生命
誰會憐惜 誰會銘記
愛散落在風中變成追憶
它的歌聲 有誰提起 是否被忘記
愛難 靠近
也難 抗拒
刺多鋒利 痛快窒息
血染紅一朵花絢爛無比
它的歌聲 迴蕩在天空中 那麼美
如果是愛 該怎麼定義
誰會憐惜 誰會銘記
愛散落在風中變成追憶
它 用歌聲 吟唱生命旋律

Pure White (Live)

The nightingale understands the boy's sorrow.
Butterfly daisy, full of much curiosity.
Where is the red of a pure white rose?
Is happiness dependent on
insignificant differences?
The nightingale wants to heal the boy's sadness.
On the sacred oak tree, pondering the mystery of love.
Every night, she tells the stars a story.
Unwilling to leave a trace of sorrow.
Searching valiantly, flapping her wings,
why is a red rose always nowhere to be found?
She decides to exchange her body for a scarlet mark.
With her song, she welcomes the last morning of love.
It is meaningful to sing for love.
Thorns are sharp and pain is suffocating.
Is it sad or joyful when blood stains a flower red?
Who hears her song?
What is more precious, love or life?
Who will have compassion? Who will remember?
Love scatters in the wind, becoming a memory.
Who remembers her song? Is it forgotten?
The nightingale wants to heal the boy's sadness.
On the sacred oak tree, pondering the mystery of love.
Every night, she tells the stars a story.
Unwilling to leave a trace of sorrow.
Searching valiantly, flapping her wings,
why is a red rose always nowhere to be found?
Never giving up, with love's aspiration,
willing to do anything.
When dawn breaks, she acts without hesitation.
Love is beautiful when it reaches its limits.
Thorns are sharp, the pain suffocating.
Is it sad or joyful when blood stains a flower red?
Who hears her song?
What is more precious, love or life?
Who will have compassion? Who will remember?
Love scatters in the wind, becoming a memory.
Who remembers her song? Is it forgotten?
Love is hard to approach,
and hard to resist.
Thorns are sharp, the pain suffocating.
Blood stains a flower red, so magnificent.
Her song echoes in the sky, so beautiful.
If it is love, how should it be defined?
Who will show compassion? Who will remember?
Love scatters in the wind, becoming a memory.
With her song, she sings the melody of life.