國際中功總會* 中國反政治迫害同盟

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中國反政治迫害同盟

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nunia
9/23/2006 9:00:02 AM

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师母台湾籍人，50年代执意留在中央美院学雕塑。现身患癌症。

特寄函：
思念军君 Painters

Painters
from Jewel Album “Pieces of You”

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch /
Watching the clouds roll by /
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago. /
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait/
A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -- /
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go /
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves. /
A lovely world. /

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall /
He put water-colored roses in her hair /
He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you mountains, the sunshine, /
the sunset too /
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me /
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves. /
A lovely world /

So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by /
The painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child /
in the winter they were weavers of warmth, /
in summer they were carpenters of love /
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow /
'Casue they were were painters and they were painting themselves /
A lovely world /

CHANGE I: /
Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil /
And in her heart she knew something was wrong /
She went running /
through the orchard screaming, /
'No God, don't take him from me!" /
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone /
She got to where he lay, water-colored roses in his hands for her /
She threw them down screaming, 'Damn you man, don't leave me /
with nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits /
to remind me! /

CHANGE II: /
He said, 'Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand /
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands /
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still/
My body may die now, but these paintings are real' /
So many seasons came and many season went /
and many times she saw her love's face watering the flowers. /
talking to the trees and singing to his children /
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening. /
and how he seemed to laugh along, and how he seemed to hold her /
when she was crying /
'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves/
A lovely world. /

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch/
Watching the clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover /
how he left her and of times long ago, when she used to color carelessly. /
Painted his portrait a thousand times, or maybe just his smile./
and she and her canvas would follow him whereever he would go /
Yes, she and her canvas still follow /
Because they are painters and they are painting themselves /
A lovely world.

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