關於 need you now lyrics meaning ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

In 2018, I will post more book reviews!
To all bookworms out there, stay tuned! <3

I am ready glad to see that a lot of people share the love for books with me 😍 Reading has always been one of my favorite hobbies since I was really young. In the summer holiday, my family and I would spend time at my grandma's house in the south and I would read and read all day, always having a book by my side. I would go to my cousin's house to borrow her books and enjoyed my time there.

During the school year, the library had been my favorite place to be, but my school didn't really have that many interesting books. I borrowed from my friends and cousins. I read fictions online. I started reading online articles and went on websites to find out more information about things I was interested in. Things like Harry Potter, lyrics meaning, and Avril Lavigne.

When I went to America for the first time at the age of 16, I was absolutely awestruck to see how big the school library was. The local library was amazing too. I borrowed so many fictions to read during that year. My host family also bought some books for me. I think that was around the time I actually started reading fictions in English. My reading speed improved significantly that year. I gave up using the dictionary and decided to just go with flow, trying to understand words according to the context. That year I finished reading the Twilight series and Percy Jackson. I read many more books for classes, including some classics like The Great Gatsby, Huckleberry Finn, and The Scarlet Letter. It was a challenging year, but I plowed through.

Now, many years later, my love for books still remains. But I don't need to borrow from anyone anymore. Now I work hard and save money so that I can buy all the books I would like to read. I am happy and proud that I can do that. They say that money can't by happiness, but it sure can buy you things that make you happy.

Now I read not only for my own happiness. I read to share. I read to reflect. I read to discuss. I read to connect. I read to grow as a person. And I read to show others that they too can do it.

I read to learn more about the world and about myself, one page at a time.

#ความสุขของอิซีม #booksmakemehappy
#dailyreflection #zeemisreadingthis

「獻給所有憂鬱症患者、所有找不到存在的意義的人們，你不是孤單的，希望我們的音樂能給你活下去的力量。」
"To all the people who suffer from depression, who can't find the meaning of living. We hope our music can give you the strength to live on."

高音質連結: https://youtu.be/MrLHYIv2x6A
"I'll Find You" 收錄於2016發行的專輯"Self"，欲購買可直接私訊粉絲專頁，或至各大數位平台。

Film || Akiradesu Cinema & Engineering
https://www.facebook.com/AkiradesuStudio/

Full Lyrics:
No they donʼt care
They want you to accomplish whatever fits their need
Yes live the pain
And none of this nausea would ever come to an end

You may have doubt
Maybe you donʼt know what life is about
no one can pour it out

Iʼve been there
Struggled with my past and now oh
I still survive

You turned away
Tried to ease yourself from pain stood in the middle of the roadway
Then the car came
The light so harsh the brake so loud a step forward and you’d be dead

Iʼve been there
Struggled with my past and now oh
I still survive

You are crying in the rain feel like your life is in vain
So you hide yourself
you run away away away
Iʼll find you
Iʼll find you
Iʼll find you
Iʼll find you

Iʼve been there
Struggled with my past and now oh
I still survive

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

《Midnight Sun》
Cold Sun / 冽日
作詞 / Lyricist：aimerrhythm
作曲 / Composer：横山裕章
編曲 / Arranger：玉井健二、大西省吾
歌 / Singer：Aimer
翻譯：夏德爾
English Translation: Thaerin

背景 / Background - danse solitaire - Hiten:
https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/78391247

版權聲明:
本頻道不握有任何音樂所有權，亦無任何營利，一切僅為推廣用途。音樂所有權歸原始創作者所有。請支持正版。

Copyright Info:
Be aware this channel is for promotion purpose only without any illegal profit. All music's ownership belongs to the original creators.
Please support the original creator.

すべての権利は正当な所有者/作成者に帰属します。あなたがこの音楽（または画像）の作成者で、この動画に使用されたくない場合はメッセージまたはこのYoutubeチャンネルの概要のメールアドレスにご連絡ください。私はすぐに削除します。

如果你喜歡我的影片，不妨按下喜歡和訂閱，你的支持就是我創作的最大原動力！
If you like my videos, please click like and subscribe! Thx :)

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中文翻譯 / Chinese Translation :
https://home.gamer.com.tw/creationDet...

英文翻譯 / English Translation :
https://www.lyrical-nonsense.com/lyri...

日文歌詞 / Japanese Lyrics :
重ねた言葉は何を守るため?
強くなれるだけでいい　答えはもういらない
例えば心は傷を負うだけで
それだけのものだとしたら　悲しいね
それでも空を見上げてる

行き場をなくした月の影　勢いを増した向かい風
知らないどこかで手にした何かは
音を立て　すぐに消えた

そう　世界の片隅で
祈りとか誓いすら意味をなさない
居場所すら忘れ　歩き続けてく

かざした刃は誰を守るため?
強くなれるだけでいい　答えはもういらない
例えば心は傷を負うだけで
それだけのものだとしても　かまわない
それでも空を見上げてる

うつむいたままの景色まで　目に映るものは痛みだけ
知らない誰かに望んだ全ては　今はもう風に消えた

そう　世界はまわるだけ
残された期待なら意味をなさない
求めたものは捨て　歩き続けてく

重ねた言葉は何を守るため?
弱さと向き合うなら　涙はもういらない
「さよなら」「さよなら」くりかえすだけで
それだけの日々だとしたら　悲しいね
それでも空を見上げてる
いまでも星を探してる

夜明けを求めた旅人は
真夜中輝く　青い太陽
傷ついたこと　傷つけたこと
すべて体温(ねつ)にかえるまで　ずっと歩いてく

重ねた言葉は何を守るため?
強くなれるだけでいい　答えはもういらない
かざした刃は誰を守るため?
弱さと向き合うなら　涙はもういらない

心は 心は 傷を負うだけで
それだけのものだとしても　かまわない
それでも空を見上げてる

中文歌詞 / Chinese Lyrics :
那些持續說服自我的話語，是為了堅持什麼？
只要能變得更堅強就好，我們不需要知道那會有什麼結果
假如說，擁有心靈只會背負更多的傷痛
如果心靈真的僅是這樣的東西，那真是令人哀傷
但即使哀傷，我們仍只能仰望著這片天空

失去藏身之所的月影，昏暗的是漸漸加劇的逆風
在不知名的地方，落入手中的那些未知之物
也僅是留下聲音的殘影，轉瞬飛散了

是的，無論是祈禱甚至是誓言
在這角落的世界裡都沒有任何作用
而我們只能一面忘卻自己的棲身之所，一面持續向前

武裝了自己的信念，是為了守護什麼人？
只需變得堅強，答案什麼的就通通捨棄吧
假如說，擁有心靈也只會讓我們背負更多的傷痛
而就算心靈真的僅是這樣的東西，那也無所謂了
我們也僅是追尋著這片天空

從遠處一直到低頭、映入眼簾的都只有痛苦的風景
對著不知名的某人所渴求的那些願望，現在，也全消散在風中了

沒錯，這個世界僅是前進著
若是那些被遺留於身後的期望，那都已經失去意義
捨棄那些曾經追求過的東西，我們，僅須向前

持續鼓舞自己的話語，是為了堅持什麼？
若是要面對自己的懦弱，就捨棄我們的眼淚吧
僅是重複著「再見」與「再見」
若走過的日子僅有這些離別的話，那真是讓人感傷
但即使如此，我們仍追求著這片天空
如今，我們也仍在尋找著星斗

那些追尋黎明的旅人
是於午夜中燃燒青焰的烈日
無論是受了傷的過去，還是傷害了他人的過往
直至將這一切全化作自己的體內的炙熱，他們將一直、一直走下去

累積下來的千言萬語，究竟是為了堅持什麼？
只要能變得更堅強就好，堅強的結果是什麼我們並不需要知道
而武裝了自己的信念，到底是為了與什麼人抗衡？
若是要對抗自己的脆弱，眼淚什麼的我們也已經不再需要

就算，心靈的傷痕只會不斷、不停的增加
縱使心靈就是如此的東西，那都無足畏懼
因為無論如何，我們，都只會持續追尋著這片天空

英文歌詞 / English Lyrics :
Just what are the words I’ve piled up meant to protect?
I’d be satisfied with them merely making me stronger; I don’t need an answer anymore.
But if it were really nothing more,
Than something to cause me pain, it would be so sad;
Nonetheless, I’m still looking up to the sky.

Like the moon’s shadow when it has nowhere left to run, or a headwind increasing in strength,
An unknown thing obtained, in an unknown place, made an audible noise before vanishing.

That’s right: in the corners of the world, prayers and oaths exercise no meaning,
Forgetting where they belong only to walk on endlessly.

Just who is the blade we hold aloft meant to protect?
I’d be satisfied with it merely making me stronger; I don’t need an answer anymore.
But even if it was really nothing more,
Than something to cause me pain, I wouldn’t mind;
I’m still looking up to the sky.

Everything that reflects in my eyes is full of pain, even the scenery I see lying face down,
As the entirety of some unknown person’s desires gets carried away by the wind.

That’s right: just by the world spinning ’round, any hopes still left will exercise no meaning,
Leaving all who sought them to walk on endlessly.

Just what are the words I’ve piled up meant to protect?
If I can face my weaknesses, I’ll no longer have need for tears.
But if these days are to consist of nothing more,
Than repeating, “Farewell!”, “Farewell!”, it would be so sad;
Nonetheless, I’m still looking up to the sky.

Even now, I’m still searching for the stars.

The travelers who sought after the dawn,
Are a pale sun shining at midnight,
Walking on and on,
Until all the pain exchanged to and fro converts to heat.

Just what are the words I’ve piled up meant to protect?
I’d be satisfied with them merely making me stronger; I don’t need an answer anymore.
Just who is the blade we hold aloft meant to protect?
If I can face my weaknesses, I’ll no longer have need for tears.
Even if the only real purpose for this heart,
Is to be wounded, I wouldn’t mind;
I’m still looking up to the sky.

Composer: Dizzy Dizzy / Theodora Lau
Lyrics: Dizzy Dizzo
————————————————————
Some day some where
I dreamed of you with me
Chillin' and laughing away

I'll hold you close
Whenever you need me
Watching the sunsets go by

Slowly you showed me
The meaning of enough
Painted over my scars

All I know is I feel
My world has been lifted
Know that I'll be here with u

When it gets rough bae hold on
We'll get through it all
Don't be scared now
I'll wash away them fears

White blankets, cotton candy
Is what I wanna fill in your dreams
And I'll be here holding you

Slowly you showed me
The meaning of enough
Painted over my scars

All I know is I feel
My world has been lifted
Know that I'll be here with u
Know that I'll be here with u
————————————————————
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