一个国家的好坏，不在于它如何对待那些有功之人，而在于它如何对待那些有罪之人。—有感于最近发生的一些事情。
自由的钟声
词曲：鲍勃·迪伦
翻译：袁越
太阳已经落山，午夜的钟声还未敲响
外面雷声隆隆，我们躲进了走廊
那雷声好似威严的钟声
这自由之钟把暗夜照亮
照亮了那些真正勇敢的士兵，他们拒绝向人民开枪
照亮了那些流亡的人，他们手无寸铁走在逃难的路上
这自由的钟声为在黑夜中向命运抗争的斗士们带来了希望
此刻我们正凝视着这自由之钟的光芒
在这个城市火炉般炎热的夜晚，眼前的景象完全出乎意料
我们躲在墙后，四周的墙壁正越来越紧地把我们环绕
暴雨前那婚礼的钟声刚刚还余音未绝
现在已完全消失在闪电的钟声里，再也听不到
那钟声敲给所有反叛的人，敲给所有的浪子
敲给所有倒霉的人和所有被命运遗忘的男女老少
还有那些被抛弃的人，他们正被绑在火刑柱上忍受煎熬
这自由的钟声在我们的耳边萦绕
巨大而神秘的冰雹正凶猛地砸向地面
好像是老天写下的一部真正奇妙的诗篇
教堂的钟声早已随风远去
留下的是洪亮如钟的雷鸣和闪电
这钟声敲给所有和善而友好的人们
敲给那些思想解放的保护人
这钟声敲给所有那些过时或者前卫的贫穷的画家们
这自由的钟声一直回响在我们的耳边
这闪电把黑夜照得如同大教堂一般明亮
大雨正在对台下所有无名的小人物演讲
这钟声敲给所有那些不能自由地表达意见的人们
这个世界好像理应如此，多少年都一样
这钟声敲给所有聋哑人和失明的人们
敲给那些被冤枉的人、单身母亲和所有落入风尘的姑娘
敲给所有被追捕的犯了轻罪的人，社会已经把他们抛弃
这自由的钟声一直在我们耳边回响
虽然一丝白云在天的尽头显现
无边而浓重的迷雾正慢慢消散
那闪电仍然像一支支利剑
射给那些失去自由的人，和无家可归的流浪汉
这钟声敲给那些探索者，他们默默地走在寻找真理的路上
敲给那些孤独的恋人，他们每个人的故事都不一样
还有那些被关在监狱中的无辜而善良的灵魂
这自由之钟正在为我们敲响
回想起来，刚下雨时我们还随意说笑着，盲目乐观
一转眼已经在雨中困了很久，不知道过了多长的时间
终于云消雾散，我们面向天空看最后的一眼
我们被眼前的景象迷住了，直到那如钟的雷声，渐渐走远
这钟声敲给所有那些痛苦的人，他们孤立无援还有那无数个困惑的、被控告的、被误解的、吸毒的，以及所有境况更糟糕的人们
这钟声敲给所有需要帮助的人，不管他生活在哪个世界
这隆隆作响的自由之钟就出现在我们所有人的眼前
Chimes of Freedom
By Bob Dylan
Far between sundown’s finish and midnight’s broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
And for each and every underdog soldier in the night
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden while the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowing rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned and forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burning constantly at stake
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
And the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for-granted situations
Tolling for the deaf and blind, tolling for the mute
Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased and cheated by pursuit
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
And the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
And for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
Starry-eyed and laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time and we watched with one last look
Spellbound and swallowed until the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones and worse
And for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.
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