耶誕節唱頌之際，感謝好友分享喀爾特(Celtic)吟唱,互祝平安。憶昔日午夜低迴，恩雅(Enya)美聲或任何一位民謠吟唱詩指尖下的琴弦，似乎與大地共生。生平神遊嚮往，除了紐西蘭南阿爾卑斯山 和 布拉格建築博物館老街，就想坐在蘇格蘭高地，體驗憂傷而堅韌的喀爾特靈魂，聆聽世界邊緣音樂之鄉愁，莫讓蓋爾語的靈魂消失，保存民族記憶的方舟--一如布農族的八部合音；排灣族的鼻笛或喀爾特風笛啊! 給予祖靈和山風的囈語; 離散(The Diaspora)遷徙的感受,悲歌恰似客家老山歌的尊嚴。如果我為一沙鷗飛向天際,是否大海也會為我伴奏呢?!高貴的憂鬱呢? 我如何與你共振?
https://youtu.be/c9gcr9Kqdvk?si=2qkM3pbWAryP5FHI
While Christmas carols drift upon the air, many thanks to my friend for Celtic songs shared deep.
A wish for peace between our kindred souls. I recall those midnights, lost in quiet youth
As Enya’s voice, or some wandering bard’s thin strings
Seemed born from earth itself, a living pulse.
My spirit roams to places far and wide:
The Southern Alps where New Zealand’s peaks arise,
The ancient streets where Prague’s stone museums dream.
Yet most, I long to sit on Scottish Highlands--To feel the Celtic soul, both sad and strong
And hear the nostalgia from the world’s shrunk edge.
Let not the Gaelic spirit fade to mist,
That sacred ark where tribal memories dwell in Taiwan—
Like Bunun voices joined in eight-part chords, The Paiwan’s flute, or pipes that keen and wail, A whisper meant for winds and ancestral ghosts. This grief of wandering, the Diaspora’s weight,
Is held with dignity in Hakka Laoshange.
If I, a fleeing gull, fly toward the void,
Will the great sea provide my company?
O noble melancholy, deep and pure--
How shall I find the chord to ring with thee?
