Highlands
Well my heart's in the Highlands, gentle and fair
Honeysuckle blooming in the wildwood air
Bluebells blazing where the Aberdeen waters flow
Well my heart's in the Highlands
I'm gonna go there when I feel good enough to go
Windows were shakin' all night in my dreams
Everything was exactly the way that it seems
Woke up this morning and I looked at the same old page
Same ol' rat race
Life in the same ol' cage
I don't want nothing from anyone, ain't that much to take
Wouldn't know the difference between a real blonde and a fake
Feel like a prisoner in a world of mystery
I wish someone would come
And push back the clock for me
Well my heart's in the Highlands wherever I roam
That's where I'll be when I get called home
The wind, it whispers to the buck-eyed trees in rhyme
Well my heart's in the Highlands
I can only get there one step at a time
I'm listening to Neil Young, I gotta turn up the sound
Someone's always yelling turn it down
Feel like I'm drifting
Drifting from scene to scene
I'm wondering what in the devil could it all possibly mean?
Insanity is smashing up against my soul
You can say I was on anything but a roll
If I had a conscience, well, I just might blow my top
What would I do with it anyway
Maybe take it to the pawn shop
My heart's in the Highlands at the break of dawn
By the beautiful lake of the Black Swan
Big white clouds like chariots that swing down low
Well my heart's in the Highlands
Only place left to go
I'm in Boston town, in some restaurant
I got no idea what I want
Well, maybe I do but I'm just really not sure
Waitress comes over
Nobody in the place but me and her
It must be a holiday, there's nobody around
She studies me closely as I sit down
She got a pretty face and long white shiny legs
She says, “What'll it be?”
I say, “I don't know, you got any soft boiled eggs?”
She looks at me, says, “I'd bring you some
But we're out of 'm, you picked the wrong time to come”
Then she says, “I know you're an artist, draw a picture of me!”
I say, “I would if I could, but
I don't do sketches from memory”
“Well,” she says, “I'm right here in front of you, or haven't you looked?”
I say, “All right, I know, but I don't have my drawing book!”
She gives me a napkin, she says, “You can do it on that”
I say, “Yes I could, but
I don't know where my pencil is at!”
She pulls one out from behind her ear
She says, “All right now, go ahead, draw me, I'm standing right here”
I make a few lines and I show it for her to see
Well she takes the napkin and throws it back
And says, “That don't look a thing like me!”
I said, “Oh, kind Miss, it most certainly does”
She says, “You must be jokin'.” I say, “I wish I was!”
Then she says, “You don't read women authors, do you?”
Least that's what I think I hear her say
“Well,” I say, “how would you know and what would it matter anyway?”
“Well,” she says, “you just don't seem like you do!”
I said, “You're way wrong”
She says, “Which ones have you read then?” I say, “I read Erica Jong!”
She goes away for a minute
And I slide up out of my chair
I step outside back to the busy street but nobody's going anywhere
Well my heart's in the Highlands with the horses and hounds
Way up in the border country, far from the towns
With the twang of the arrow and a snap of the bow
My heart's in the Highlands
Can't see any other way to go
Every day is the same thing out the door
Feel further away than ever before
Some things in life, it gets too late to learn
Well, I'm lost somewhere
I must have made a few bad turns
I see people in the park forgetting their troubles and woes
They're drinking and dancing, wearing bright-colored clothes
All the young men with their young women looking so good
Well, I'd trade places with any of them
In a minute, if I could
I'm crossing the street to get away from a mangy dog
Talking to myself in a monologue
I think what I need might be a full-length leather coat
Somebody just asked me
If I registered to vote
The sun is beginning to shine on me
But it's not like the sun that used to be
The party's over and there's less and less to say
I got new eyes
Everything looks far away
Well, my heart’s in the Highlands at the break of day
Over the hills and far away
There’s a way to get there and I’ll figure it out somehow
But I’m already there in my mind
And that’s good enough for now
高地
[美]鲍勃·迪伦
李皖 译
哦我的心在高地，温雅而美好
金银花在原始林的空气中绽放
蓝铃在阿伯丁水流经过处发光
哦我的心在高地
我将前往，当我的心情好到足以前往
睡梦中窗户摇了一晚上
一切正是它们该是的模样
今早醒来我看着还是那一样景致
还是那样你争我夺
生活还是在一样的囚笼里
我不想要任何人的东西，没那么多要拿的
不知道真的金发女郎和冒充的有什么区别
感觉就像是神秘世界里一个囚徒
我希望有人来
将时钟为我拨回去
哦我的心在高地无论在哪儿漂游
当回家的呼唤响起我就要归去
风，对着七叶树悠扬低语
哦我的心在高地
只有一步一个脚印我才能到达那里
我听着尼尔·扬，我得开大音量
有人老嚷嚷开得太响
感觉我正在漂
从一个场景漂向另一个场景
我寻思着这到底是什么鬼意思？
精神错乱在捣毁我的灵魂
你可以说除了走运我事事有份
如果我有良心，哦，我会冲冠一怒
究竟我该如何处置这良心呢
也许该把它送进当铺
我的心在高地正值晨光初现
在美丽的黑天鹅湖边
硕大的白云像敞篷马车低低摆荡
哦我的心在高地
这唯一剩下要去的地方
我在波士顿城，在一家餐馆
不知道要来点什么
哦，也许我知道但是真的不确定
女招待走过来了
整个地方只有我和她
应该是个假日，四周没一个客人
当我坐下来她很仔细地打量我
她有张漂亮的脸和又白又亮的长腿
她说：“要点什么？”
我说：“不知道，有溏心蛋吗？”
她看着我，说：“我倒想送上来
不过卖完了，你来的不是时候”
她又说：“我知道你是个艺术家，给我画张像！”
我说：“可能的话我会画，但是
我不凭记忆写生”
“噢，”她说，“我就在你面前，难道你没看见？”
我说：“好吧，我知道，可是我没带图画册”
她给我一张餐巾纸，说：“可以画在这上面”
我说：“是的可以，但是
我不知道哪有铅笔！”
她从耳后抽出笔来
说：“好了，来吧，画我，我就站这儿”
我画了几笔拿给她看
哦她接过餐巾纸又扔回来
一边说：“没一点像我！”
我说：“啊，善心的小姐，当然很像”
她说：“你开玩笑吧。”我说：“我倒希望是！”
她又说：“你不读女作家，是吧？”
至少我认为我听到她是这么说的
“好吧，”我说，“你怎么知道这很重要吗？”
“嗯，”她说，“你看起来不像读过！”
我说：“你大错特错”
她说：“那你都读过谁？”我说：“我读了埃丽卡·容！”
她走开了一会儿
我溜下座儿
走回外面，街上熙熙攘攘但人人漫无方向
哦我的心在高地跟马和猎犬一起
远远地在边境乡野，远离市镇
与箭的嗖嗖和弓的啪啪一起
我的心在高地
看不到有别的路可行
门外每一天都是老样子
感觉离本心越来越远
生活中有些事，要学已太晚
唉，我在何处迷失
一定是错转了几个弯
我看见公园里的人忘记了烦恼和问题
他们喝酒跳舞，穿着鲜艳服饰
年轻男人和他们的年轻女人真是赏心悦目
哦，我愿和他们中任一位调换位置
如果我可以，请立刻
我横穿过马路躲避一条癞皮狗
自己跟自己唠叨
我想我需要的也许是件全长皮大衣
有人刚才问我
有没有登记去投票
太阳开始照在我身上
但不像是一直以来的那个太阳
聚会结束了越来越无话可谈
我有了新的眼睛
一切看起来都很远
哦，我的心在高地正值晨光初现
在山那边并且很远
有条道通向那儿而我会把它琢磨透
而在心里我已经到了那里
现在来说这就够好的了
注1：这首歌词副歌段落运用了苏格兰诗人罗伯特·彭斯诗歌《我的心在高地》的部分原型。
注2：尼尔·杨，与迪伦差不多同时期的加拿大著名歌手。
注3：埃丽卡·容（1942－ ），美国女作家、诗人，其小说《怕飞》在第二波女性主义运动中有重要地位。
（本篇译词参考了陈震先生的精彩译稿，致谢。）
出自专辑《被遗忘的时光》
发行于1997年
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