《邂逅在迷宫》女神的冥界之旅全结局事件路线介绍 女神的冥界之旅攻略大全，邂逅在迷宫攻略秘籍

鲍勃·迪伦17分钟长歌：纯真被终结，会走向疯狂吗？

鲍勃·迪伦

在这样的特殊时刻（美国当地时间3月27日午夜），78岁的鲍勃·迪伦在YouTube上发布了一首近17分钟（16’55”）的长歌。翻唱了那么多老掉牙的歌曲，用靴子腿翻起池底的宝石之后，《Murder Most Foul》是八年来迪伦首次发表的原创歌曲。（文末附歌词）

人类从来没有过这样的经验。一次蔓延全球的瘟疫，所有人都能“看”见他者在瘟疫中的境况，至少能接收到每天滚动跳跃在屏幕上的数据。禁足，紧缩，不安，希望和失望交替，工业文明建立起的强大自信被深深撼动。一次危机到来，一场大水漫灌，贫富差距将进一步拉大。异常年轻的美国梦更远了吗？美国人的天真终将被打碎吗？

“我说，一个国家的灵魂被撕碎/她将慢慢腐烂”。

“谢谢你们多年的真诚相伴。这是一首我们录好有一阵的歌，你们可能会有点兴趣。” 鲍勃·迪伦在留言区向粉丝和追随者致意。

他选择在绝佳的时刻发布。若非现在，除了死忠粉、怀旧者和文化人，还有谁会对这样一首死长，如同配乐诗朗诵般的歌曲感兴趣。如果不是感到无助，谁会有耐心在17分钟的迷宫中追随往日遗迹，重新回忆起1963年11月22日12时30分，肯尼迪总统在德州达拉斯的迪利广场遇刺的肮脏往事。心中则隐怀希望，在迪伦的歌/诗中找到预兆和告诫。

像一个缓慢的梦，绵延不绝，无法醒来。诗人在梦中变换身份，从叙事者变为遇刺的总统，又从总统的身躯逃逸，进入自我意识的心灵。

生者和死者轻易跨越冥界的河流，身姿之轻盈几乎像在嘲笑我们：“很遗憾地告诉你，先生，只有死者才能获得自由。”

约翰·肯尼迪总统在达拉斯被枪击前大约一分钟从汽车里挥手。来源：新京报书评周刊

中枪的总统倒在妻子腿上失去生命，妻子身着满是鲜血的衣服哭泣着参加继任者（林登·约翰逊）的就职仪式。杀了总统的奥斯瓦尔德和杀了奥斯瓦尔德的鲁比先后进了地狱，而总统的大哥早就在地狱等他（肯尼迪的哥哥约瑟夫·肯尼迪二世在二战中死于空难）。兄弟二人重逢后，就在地狱共同等待罗伯特·肯尼迪和马丁·路德·金的到来（二人均于1968年遇刺）。

谋杀的连锁反应冷酷地展开，如同恐龙的骨骼泛着幽黯的光。恐龙的血肉是嵌入词中的74首歌和众多电影、艺术、音乐、名人的吉光片羽。它们是教父级的彩蛋，已有太多人津津有味地投入搜寻行列。《滚石》杂志为此制作了一份肯尼迪被刺杀后的歌曲创作清单。鲍勃·迪伦粉丝网站“Expecting Rain”每天搜集整理世界各大媒体对这首歌的新闻报道和评论文章。对歌中所涉细节、史实、解读、歌曲感兴趣的人不难获得这些信息。早有勤劳的游戏玩家把经验秘籍整理上传，待君采撷。

有个喜欢报名字的朋友，问他一个问题，他可以像电脑吐出一长串人名和史实，并详述他们之间互相勾连的因果。有强大记忆力的人喜欢拿自己当凹地，储存纷纷雨落的记忆，希望借梳理找到世事隐秘的关联。鲍勃·迪伦早就是这样的凹地。虽然未来不在过去之中（但谁能确定呢），陈旧的蛛网中一定存在适用于未来的规律和因果。死亡是它最重要的捕获物，流行文化作为集体记忆的结晶像宝石般光彩。《Murder Most Foul》正是织了这样的一张网。

出自《哈姆雷特》的歌名是世人对这桩总统谋杀案的共识—毫无廉耻和尊敬，终结了丹麦王子和美国人民的纯真年代。纯真被突然终止，必将走向疯狂。国王/总统死于卑鄙手段，及题放纵的病态使日常黯然失色。一股力量把西方社会推向从未到达的浪颠，鲍勃·迪伦本人也在六十年代投入幻觉世界，险些丧命于一场凶险的摩托车车祸。

年轻时的鲍勃·迪伦

诗人都像先知，鲍勃·迪伦想在长诗中吐露未来的秘密吗？或者他只是老了，“永不停止”巡演被疫情中止，一首老歌，一部老电影起了念头，牵扯出连绵不断的旧絮。也有可能，快要八十岁的鲍勃·迪伦和我们一样，对年轻时的缤纷难以忘怀。年轻时，酒精和致幻剂让眼前的世界清晰至发光。年老后，光鲜褪色，音乐抽离，只有淬炼过的语言更加凸显。

诗是用来读的，考据的兴头过去之后，试试朗读这首长诗吧。只有在自己的朗读中，阿里巴巴才会洞开神秘的大门。诗歌有自己的生命力。在影像技术完全可以造出梦境的今天，诗歌的魅力依然无可替代。

连接歌中所有纷繁碎片的不是逻辑，也不是时间。是拥有独立生命的词语自己找到了彼此。它们自由地变形，新鲜柔软，丝毫不像出自老人之口。词语们伪装成六十年代的流行文化名词，从一首歌中幻化出另一首，肢端生出硕大的头颅，头颅中喷出黑色的血。歌为杰克·鲁比演奏（杀了李·哈维·奥斯瓦尔德的脱衣舞俱乐部老板），为我，为玛丽莲·梦露，为所有人演奏。

“演奏黑暗/死亡终将会降临。” 诗人发出警告，随后又温情提示：“注意安全，保持洞察，愿上帝与你们同在”。

歌词全文：

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 Highland

I’m gonna go there when I feel good enough to go

Windows were shaking’ 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 oil’ 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 buckeyed trees in rhyme

Well my heart’s in the Highland

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 joking’.” 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