[FR评论社]——[CM319]等待天青
[color=Silver]2008年5月17首发于风软论坛 ID:senninha＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝＝[/color]
[b][i]Simple Plan：There's only hate。There's only tears。There's only pain。There is no love here。so what will you do?[/i][/b]
实在非常喜欢这一集的CM。终于，BAU用将犯罪心理学发挥到了极致。
[color=White]（有一点不满的是……还记得Reid怎么进FBI的么？对，就是Gideon，4年前的案子却没有爷爷的身影，哎～）[/color]
Hotch在法庭上的表现。Reid直面受害人家属时的敏感。JJ和Emliy排查医院的细心。Garcia天才的小幽默。Mogan那不容置疑的正义感。这才是我们爱着的BAU！
也许你在心理也会动摇。一个完全不记得自己做过什么的凶手。还是那个该被审判的凶手么。
你的心，变成BAU的两个部分。
一边，说，他不再对社会有害，他那么柔和，如果法律就是用来感化，为何要剥夺这个重新做人的机会？
另一边，却狠狠的告诉自己，不能因为失去了记忆就可以不去偿还欠下的债！
其实，他肯接受测试。会流泪。会回到案发现场。会去自首。都是为了了解自己。而不是找回自己。就像失忆后，你发现自己完全不记得和最好的朋友间的故事，而拼命去回想过去。但找回来的记忆也许让友谊终结。
没有什么是不能放下的。没有什么是不会过去的。
最后受害人的父亲，在Reid的提醒下，才念出那首诗，才发现句子里的深意。
深夜，他的天空却好象突然放晴。4年的伤痛没有嘎然而止，只是他明白了该如何面对。面对离去的女儿，面对未来的人生。
最近看什么都觉得很赈灾……最后的诗，正像刻在所有华人心上的信念。
[b][i]陈信宏：地球那麼小。我們那麼近。傷在你身。也痛在我心。就算。這傷痕也許。永遠無法抹去。不怕。不哭。不孤單。等待天青。只願我們因此更近。[/i][/b]
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转载请注明出处作者及请勿删改,谢谢合作![/color]
PS：付上那首诗……其实特别长，但是很美。[color=Red]红色是剧中引用的部分。[/color]
[quote][b][i][u][size=1][align=center]Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. [/size][/u][/i]
[size=3][u]William Wordsworth. 1770–1850 [/u][/size]
[b][size=1][i]536. Ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood [/i][/size][/b]
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!
Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:—
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
—But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
Mighty prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a master o'er a slave,
A presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thought where we in waiting lie;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest—
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
[color=Red]What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; [/color]
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. [/b] [/quote][/align]
[[i] 本帖最后由 senninha 于 2008-5-17 11:46 编辑 [/i]] 自沙……
希望灾区的父老乡亲们一切安好。 We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind
希望这次灾难，可以让我们国家更加团结
Bless China~ 想问下楼主的头像是？？？？？ andy roddick和他未婚妻……呃＝ ＝＋ 这集是Gideon走后最精彩的一集 非常喜欢这一集，Hotch在法庭上不动声色把律师糗一顿时，我兴奋地不行：“哼哼，敢刁难我们Hotch老妈！！让你死～”
还有可爱的REID，4年前居然更可爱，挖咔咔，让姐姐调戏一下吧。:call:44 你一定知道我之所以现在才来回是因为看不顺眼你沙发坐的这么无稽。。。
找回忆。。。你也是看多了CC的人。。。拜托。。。那等着被找回来的记忆还有什么可值得惦记。。。要杀自己的不是父母爱人亲朋好友就是姐妹兄弟。。。除非宠物也智能了。。。远目。。。 法庭上hotch太帅了:call:46 :call:8 拜下8L的 这一集是最好看的，hotch的魅力都在这儿了。
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