Today’s post is brought to you by more Chinese pop music (Taiwanese by way of Singapore).
Tanya Chua is the singer. I was listening to some of her music and felt like sharing two of them. There are things I read in English and I feel like my heart and soul are being trampled upon or ignited or revived. There are things I hear and read in Chinese and it’s as if I can finally put words to ideas I’d always known but was reluctant to admit/accept or that I hadn’t contemplated. The stoic wants to be sappy, the sap wants to be still, the still wants to be silly, the silly wants to be sensual. The sensual wants to be seen, the seen wants to be serene, the serene wants to be satiated.
Translations by yours truly.
The habit of loneliness becomes natural
I walk on the big street, the entire night glorious with cars head lights
All that is left is flickering memories, they no longer clamor so much,
but it doesn’t mean I’m liberated.
I still undoubtedly look back,
Love is not accidental, it’s gone through so much preparation
It allows us to love so wildly, half tender, half sad, sigh, a brief encounter.
I still undoubtedly associate,
Separating isn’t inevitable; since self-respect is injured,
that’s why one is so sad and can’t forget.
(To me) How much talking
(To me) How many dreams
(To me) Right now, still haven’t said
(To you) How many nights
(To you) How many years still
(To you) Until I can be liberated
The me right now is still in regards to love full of doubt,
There’s no right or wrong, I still don’t want to offer a commitment
I sustain the silence, walk by myself through emptiness and loneliness, they accompany me.
I pretend to be carefree, actually I’m weak; there are too many excuses and in the end no results.
Whoever allows me to feel understands me the most, our eyes interlock and there’s no need for words.
He just holds me tightly and lets me experience that he loves me so much.
Whoever allows me to feel doesn’t need to hide anymore; past heartache from now on will be submerged.
He just holds me tightly and lets me experience how much he loves me,
and lets me believe that he loves, loves me.
The future me, being alone isn’t so bad,
Ice cold hands thrust into pockets are considered warm.
The sun rises, the sun sets, they’re pretty much the same; if someone were with me, passing the days would be much better.
The sky sparkles for me; using too many excuses, what am I rejecting?
Her English is very good.