Paroles et traduction 溫嵐 - 海灘

海灘

口白: 嘿 時間是 下午兩點 很熱喔 聯絡不到妳 嗯 所以我決定

Rap: 一個人 開車離開 到哪裡 看心情吧 最好是 很遼闊的地方
例如說 有一整片天空跟海的地方 反正我巳經厭倦這裡

風經過臉頰 還帶著鹹鹹的細沙 車子裡的空氣 聞起來有一點Paris
連吹亂的頭髮 都十分野獸派的畫 愛上這種變化的自己

都市的擁擠 從照後鏡慢慢遠離
方向盤的右邊 只有一本哥德詩集
這條路這條路 一個人奢侈的孤獨
身體在漂浮 嗚 耶 隨便我要 怎麼走 都可以 穿過這片寂靜防風林 破爛的收音機 雜訊當復古的歌劇
怎麼做 都可以 穿著洋裝躺在浪花裡 對天空輕輕哼 我最喜歡的旋律

車子還在前進 方向我沒有要決定 就像那本詩集 從哪裡開始都可以
午後的旅行 我不喜歡給它標題 反正就是 喔 隨性

Rap: 那瓶冰過的啤酒 水珠凝聚的很Italy 金色的托斯卡尼 只適合低音大提琴
普羅旺斯的雨季 聽說有薰衣草的氣息 戴上墨鏡 聽著破爛的收音機
就讓一切從照後鏡慢慢慢慢慢慢的遠離 遠離
午後的旅行 突然有一種心情 想要找妳和我 一起尋找達文西 在我的詩集上簽名

吹亂的頭髮 飄在風裡 像野獸派的畫 耶 而沿途的浪花 進退之間 什麼都沒留下耶 隨便我要 怎麼走 都可以 穿過這片寂靜防風林 破爛的收音機 雜訊當復古的歌劇
怎麼做 都可以 穿著洋裝躺在浪花裡 對天空輕輕哼 我最喜歡的旋律
怎麼想 都可以 旁人連批評都 很規律 脖子上的砂礫 是我跟海風的豔遇
一直的 往前進 暫時還沒想到目的地 一個人 踩油門 慢慢穿過了邊境
慢慢穿過了邊境 還沒想到目的地 哼著自己的旋律

Beach

Dialogue: Hey, it's 2 PM, and it's really hot. I can't reach you, so I decided to...

Rap: Drive off on my own. Where to? I'll decide when I get there. Somewhere with a great view,
like a place with a vast sky and ocean. I'm tired of this place.

The wind brushes my cheek, carrying salty grains of sand. The air in my car smells a bit like Paris.
Even my windblown hair looks like a Fauvist painting. I'm loving this new, carefree me.

The city's hustle and bustle slowly recedes in my rearview mirror.
On my right, I have a book of Gothic poetry.
This road trip is a beautiful indulgence in solitude.
My body feels weightless. Yes! I can do whatever I want, go wherever I want, through this silent windbreak forest. The broken radio plays static like a retro opera.
I can do whatever I want, lie in the waves in my dress, and hum my favorite tune to the sky.

The car keeps moving, but I don't care where I end up. It's like that poetry book. I can start reading from anywhere.
I don't like labels for my afternoon trips. They're just, well, spontaneous.

Rap: That ice-cold beer, its condensation is very Italian. The golden Tuscany is only fit for a double bass.
The rainy season in Provence is said to have the scent of lavender. I put on my sunglasses and listen to the broken radio.
I let everything fade away in my rearview mirror, slowly, slowly.
On this afternoon trip, I feel like finding you and searching for Da Vinci together, and having him sign my poetry book.

My windblown hair dances in the wind like a Fauvist painting. The waves ebb and flow, leaving nothing behind. I can do whatever I want, go wherever I want, through this silent windbreak forest. The broken radio plays static like a retro opera.
I can do whatever I want, lie in the waves in my dress, and hum my favorite tune to the sky.
I can think whatever I want. Even critics have a routine in their disapproval. The sand on my neck is a memento of my affair with the sea wind.
I keep moving forward, not thinking about the destination yet. I step on the gas and slowly cross the border.
I cross the border, still without a destination, humming my own tune.