Nyra

I love this song. One of my favourites. Your voice makes it sounds so amazing. ❤️

街角的晚风

👍姐姐真棒

Nyra

I love the beautiful, poetic imagery in this passage. And I love it even more hearing you sing these lyrics… it makes them even more poignant.

Nyra

This passage is one of the emotional peaks of 《十年人间》. It moves from surviving hardship, to remembering the magnificence of what was once shared, and finally to the realization that the moments others might consider extraordinary were simply ordinary life to the people who lived them. 到最后竟庆幸于夕阳 In the end, I find myself grateful for the setting sun. The word 竟 is important. It means unexpectedly, after all that. After everything that has happened—the breaking, the wounds, the struggles—the speaker discovers that what remains is not bitterness, but gratitude. And it is not gratitude for some great triumph. It is simply gratitude for 夕阳, the setting sun. The sunset naturally carries two meanings. It is something beautiful, but it also represents something approaching its end—a day, a period of life, perhaps even youth or a relationship. The speaker has learned to appreciate beauty even when that beauty is disappearing. 仍留在身上 Réng liú zài shēnshang Its light still remains upon me. This makes the previous line much more moving. The sun is setting, but its last light is still touching the speaker’s body. Metaphorically, something may already belong to the past, yet its warmth remains with us. People leave. Years disappear. Experiences end. But something of them can remain “on us”—in who we have become, in our memories, in the way we see the world. So these two lines together carry a very gentle acceptance: Even if the sun is setting, I am grateful that its warmth once reached me—and that some of that warmth still remains. 来不及讲 故事多跌宕 There isn’t enough time to tell how many twists and turns the story has known. 跌宕 describes dramatic rises and falls, twists, upheavals and reversals. There has been so much living—so many encounters, losses, adventures, joys and sorrows—that there is simply too much to tell. It gives the sense of looking back over many years and thinking: How could I possibly explain everything that brought me here? And rather than recounting every hardship, the song suddenly gives us a series of beautiful images. 有最奇崛的峰峦 成全过你我张狂 There were extraordinary mountain peaks that once gave you and me the freedom to be wild. 奇崛 means extraordinary, rugged, striking, almost fantastical. And 张狂 here doesn’t have to mean arrogance. In this poetic context, it suggests being bold, unrestrained, passionate, fearless—living without holding oneself back. But the particularly beautiful word is 成全. The mountains 成全过你我张狂—they allowed, fulfilled, or made possible the wildness of “you and me.” It creates an image of two people standing amid enormous mountains, young in spirit and completely alive. The vastness of nature gave their hearts enough space to be free. So beneath the landscape is really a memory: There was once a time when you and I lived fearlessly together. 海上清辉与圆月 盛进杯光 The pure radiance over the sea and the full moon were poured into the gleam of our cups. This is an exceptionally classical Chinese image. 清辉 is not simply “light.” It is the pure, cool radiance associated especially with moonlight. Imagine a full moon hanging above the sea. Two people are drinking together, and the moonlight is reflected in their cups. Poetically, however, the song does something larger: the moon itself seems to have been poured into the wine. The enormous universe is suddenly contained within a tiny cup. It recalls the spirit of classical Chinese poetry—especially poets such as Li Bai—where wine, moonlight, friendship, landscape and the fleeting nature of life often become intertwined. For one brief moment, the people drinking beneath the moon seem to possess the whole world. 有最孤傲的雪山 There were the proudest and loneliest snow mountains. 孤傲 is beautiful here. 孤 = solitary. 傲 = proud, lofty, refusing to bow. The mountain stands alone, ancient and magnificent, untouched by the noise of ordinary human life. Against something so enormous and timeless, individual human lives seem tiny. And then comes the beautiful contrast. 静听过你我诵章 They quietly listened as you and I recited our verses. Suddenly the lonely snow mountain becomes a silent witness to the lives of these two people. The mountain does not speak. It simply listens. There is something intimate about 你我 — you and I here. Against the enormous landscape, there are simply two people sharing words, poetry, thoughts, perhaps dreams. The image makes their moment feel both tiny and eternal. Tiny because they are only two human beings beneath an ancient mountain. Eternal because the mountain itself seems to remember that they were once there. 世人惊羡的桥段 不过寻常 The scenes that would make the world marvel with admiration were, to us, nothing more than ordinary. I think this is the line that gives meaning to everything before it. 惊羡 combines astonishment with admiration or envy. 桥段 literally refers to a scene or episode in a story, film or drama—one of those memorable moments people talk about afterward. So from the outside, someone might hear about these experiences— the extraordinary mountains, the moon over the sea, drinking beneath the moonlight, reciting verses before snow-covered peaks— and think: What an extraordinary life. What a beautiful story. But the speaker simply says: 不过寻常. It was nothing unusual. Because when those two people were actually living those moments, they weren’t legendary scenes in a story. They were simply their life. And I think that is where this passage becomes deeply moving. We often recognise the extraordinary nature of our lives only after the moment has passed. While something beautiful is happening, it may feel completely ordinary: sitting beside someone, hearing their voice, sharing a song, looking at the moon together, travelling somewhere, talking late into the night. Years later, those ordinary moments may become the very memories we treasure most. So the whole passage moves through a beautiful progression: I have been broken → yet I am grateful for the remaining sunlight → there is too much of our story to tell → we once lived wildly beneath mountains and moonlight → even the snow mountains witnessed us → and what the world might call extraordinary was simply our ordinary life. And that makes 世人惊羡的桥段，不过寻常 almost bittersweet. It suggests that perhaps one of life’s greatest privileges is not necessarily to experience something spectacular, but to have something so beautiful become ordinary—to live inside it so naturally that, for a while, you don’t even realise how precious it is.