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最伟大的作品

哥穿着复古西装　拿着手杖　弹着魔法乐章
漫步走在　莎玛丽丹　被岁月　翻新的时光
望不到边界的帝国　用音符筑成的王座
我用琴键穿梭　1920错过的不朽

啊　偏执是那马格利特　被我变出的苹果
超现实的是我　还是他原本想画的小丑
不是烟斗的烟斗　脸上的鸽子没有飞走
请你记得　他是个画家　不是　什么调酒

达利翘胡是谁给他的思索　弯了汤匙借你灵感不用还我
融化的是墙上时钟还是乳酪　龙虾电话那头你都不回我

浪荡是世俗画作里最自由不拘的水墨
花都优雅的双腿是这宇宙笔下的一抹
飘洋过海的乡愁种在一无所有的温柔
寂寞的枝头才能长出　常玉要的花朵

小船静静往返　马谛斯的海岸
星空下的夜晚　交给梵谷点燃
梦美的太短暂　孟克桥上呐喊
这世上的热闹　出自孤单

花园流淌的阳光　空气摇晃着花香
我请莫内帮个忙　能不能来张自画像
大师眺望着远方　研究色彩的形状
突然回头要我说说我对我自己的印象

世代的狂　音乐的王　万物臣服在我乐章
路还在闯　我还在创　指尖的旋律在渴望
世代的狂　音乐的王　我想我不需要画框
它框不住　琴键的速度　我的音符　全部是未来艺术

日出在印象的港口来回　光线唤醒了睡着的花叶
草地正为一场小雨欢悦　我们彼此深爱这个世界
停在康桥上的那只蝴蝶　飞往午夜河畔的翡冷翠
遗憾被偶然藏在了诗页　是微笑都透不进的世界

巴黎的鳞爪　感伤的文法　要用音乐翻阅
晚风的灯下　旅人的花茶　我换成了咖啡
之后他就　爱上了苦涩这个复杂词汇
因为这才是挥手　向云彩道别的滋味

小船静静往返　马谛斯的海岸
星空下的夜晚　交给梵谷点燃
梦美的太短暂　孟克桥上呐喊
这世上的热闹　出自孤单

The Greatest Works of Art

In a vintage suit, holding a cane, I play a magical sonata
I stroll through La Samaritaine, renewed by the passage of time
An empire without limits, a throne paved from music notes
With my piano I travel to the timeless 1920s

With the apple I conjured, Magritte found obsession
Was I surreal, or was it the clown he was going to paint?
Ceci n’est pas une pipe; the dove in his face had not yet flown away
Please remember, he’s a painter, not a cocktail

Who gave Dalí and his curled moustache something to think about? I bent the spoon, lent the inspiration, no need to return it
What’s melting, is it cheese or the clock on the wall? You never return my calls on your lobster phone

Decadence is the free-flowing ink wash in a Chinese painting
Elegant crossed legs in the city of flowers are but a stroke of the universe’s brush
Homesickness across the ocean grows in the tenderness of having nothing to your name
The flowers Sanyu wants can only bloom on the loneliest branches

Boats travel quietly along Matisse’s seashore
Let Van Gogh light up this starry night
Beautiful dreams are too brief, Munch screams on the bridge
All the bustle of this world is born from loneliness

In a garden full of sunshine, the fragrance of flowers fills the air
I ask Monet for help, can he paint me a portrait?
The master gazes into the distance, studying the shapes of colour
Then he suddenly turns and asks me to tell me my impressions of myself

An era of madness, the king of music, the world is tamed by my symphony
The road is still winding, I’m still creating, the melody at my fingertips is yearning
An era of madness, the king of music, I think I don’t need a picture frame
No frame can capture the speed of the keys, all my music notes are the art of the future

The sun rises at the impressionists’ harbour, light awakens the slumbering flowers
The grass celebrates a shower of rain, we are both deeply in love with this world
The butterfly that rested at Cambridge flies to Florence along the river at midnight
Regrets are occasionally hidden in poetry, in the world that smiles cannot permeate

Paris’s scales and claws; melancholy writings; all need music to turn the page
Under the streetlamps I swapped the traveller’s tea with coffee
Afterwards he fell in love with the complexity of bitterness
Because that is the taste of bidding farewell to the clouds at sunset

Boats travel quietly along Matisse’s seashore
Let Van Gogh light up this starry night
Beautiful dreams are too brief, Munch screams on the bridge37
All the bustle of this world is born from loneliness

Submitted by osmanth

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