In his hands, the material changed. From what he discovered in heirloom and scrap, in banal rhyme and quick wit, in curses and pious prayers, sweet nothings and crude jokes, he panned poetry gold, whether on purpose or by accident is irrelevant; all creativity begins in imitation.
在他的手中,这些素材发生了变化。从别人的传家宝与废弃之物中、从陈腐的韵律与机灵妙语中、从邪恶的诅咒和虔诚的祷告中、从甜言蜜语和粗鄙玩笑中,他淘出了诗歌的黄金。是有心还是无意,都无关紧要。所有的创作都始于模仿。
Even after fifty years of uninterrupted exposure, we are yet to absorb music's equivalent of the fable's Flying Dutchman. He makes good rhymes, said a critic, explaining greatness. And it is true. His rhyming is an alchemical substance that dissolves contexts to create new ones, scarcely containable by the human brain.
即使在50年的不断聆听之后,我们还未能完全领悟迪伦那些在音乐领域能与《漂泊的荷兰人》相媲美的歌曲。“他的旋律朗朗上口,”一位评论家如是解释他的伟大。没错。他的韵律就像是一剂炼金秘方,溶解现有的语境创造出人类大脑所难以容纳的新内容。
It was a shock. With the public expecting poppy folk songs, there stood a young man with a guitar, fusing the languages of the street and the bible into a compound that would have made the end of the world seem a superfluous replay.
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