The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping on your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos.
Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,
Help to make the season bright.
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.
They know that Santa's on his way;
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh.
And every mother's child is going to spy,
To see if reindeer really know how to fly.
And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to ninety-two,
Although its been said many times, many ways,
A very Merry Christmas to you.
I wonder how it all got started, this business
about seeing your life flash before your eyes
while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
could startle time into such compression, crushing
decades in the vice of your desperate, final seconds.
After falling off a steamship or being swept away
in a rush of floodwaters, wouldn't you hope
for a more leisurely review, an invisible hand
turning the pages of an album of photographs-
you up on a pony or blowing out candles in a conic hat.
How about a short animated film, a slide presentation?
Your life expressed in an essay, or in one model photograph?
Wouldn't any form be better than this sudden flash?
Your whole existence going off in your face
in an eyebrow-singeing explosion of biography-
nothing like the three large volumes you envisioned.
Survivors would have us believe in a brilliance
here, some bolt of truth forking across the water,
an ultimate Light before all the lights go out,
dawning on you with all its megalithic tonnage.
But if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish,
a quick blur of curved silver darting away,
having nothing to do with your life or your death.
The tide will take you, or the lake will accept it all
as you sink toward the weedy disarray of the bottom,
leaving behind what you have already forgotten,
the surface, now overrun with the high travel of clouds.
The Art of Drowning (animation version) by Diego Maclean
本文摘錄自：波特萊爾《巴黎的憂鬱》(Le Spleen de Paris de Charles Baudelaire)
Il n'est pas donné à chacun de prendre un bain de multitude: jouir de la foule est un art; et celui-là seul peut faire, aux dépens du genre humain, une ribote de vitalité, à qui une fée a insufflé dans son berceau le goût du travestissement et du masque, la haine du domicile et la passion du voyage.
Multitude, solitude: termes égaux et convertibles pour le poète actif et fécond. Qui ne sait pas peupler sa solitude, ne sait pas non plus être seul dans une foule affairée.
Le poète jouit de cet incomparable privilège, qu'il peut à sa guise être lui-même et autrui. Comme ces âmes errantes qui cherchent un corps, il entre, quand il veut, dans le personnage de chacun. Pour lui seul, tout est vacant; et si de certaines places paraissent lui êtres fermées, c'est qu'à ses yeux elles ne valent pas la peine d'être visitées.
沒想到能在YouTube搜到The Real Six.Pack 2005年來台灣表演的影片，立刻貼上來部落格分享暨留念。
2005台灣國際重唱藝術節（Taiwan International Contemporary A Cappella Festival）於10月17日假國家音樂廳舉行一場國際音樂會，表演團隊是先前由重唱比賽國際組所選出的前兩名隊伍，冠軍是來自德國的女聲團體Niniwe，而獲得亞軍的男聲隊伍The Real Six.Pack同樣也是來自於德國。
The Real Six.Pack由六位大男生組成的A Cappella團體，不同於Niniwe主攻女性聲線的柔性魅力，他們所走的路線比較偏向活潑的演出，表演渲染力極佳，逗趣中卻又不失重唱應有的團隊默契，無論是節奏韻律、舞台效果都具有一定的熟練度和默契。
成員Marc David Schmolling（影片中最左邊那位），他無論是表情或肢體都很逗趣搞笑，但在團體裡的聲音角色卻是最舉足輕重的，負責主節奏的部分，低身的聲音富有磁性，傑出的表現讓他獲得當年的「最佳人聲打擊獎」。而另一位值得介紹的是Florian Ziach Helgath（影片中的第二位），是本團最年輕的團員，有著如偶像歌手般的俊俏外型（可惜不夠高XD），音質清亮高亢，在團體中非常鮮明搶眼（因為旁邊都是大叔級的人物）。The Real Six.Pack如此異質性極高的團員組合，卻能呈現出絕佳團體默契，一首接著一首使觀眾沉醉其中，可惜時間流逝飛快，表演已進入尾聲。全場安可聲、尖叫聲不斷，因此又加碼了一小段，最後表演結束，全場熱烈的掌聲迴盪在音樂廳內，不絕於耳。
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