所以当我从母亲那里等到一本记满红歌乐谱的文件夹时一点都不觉得惊讶。
I wasn't surprised when I came across a folder with red song sheet music from my mother.
像其他专辑一样，听众被推动着窥探歌者的愁苦：听每一首歌都好像是在读一本日记，在久婚之后被遗弃的床边凋谢，又被不断翻开乃至破烂不堪。
As in other albums, the listener is promoted to voyeur of miserablism: each track has a feel of a torn out diary entry, left to wilt on adeserted marital bed for our perusal.
我说过，我文学生涯中的第一本书随着我写完《晨歌》而告终。
I have said that the first book of my literary life came to an end with the Morning Songs.
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