原文
A Vigil, On Birds and Glass. By Gerard Way.“I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.
It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.
The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.
My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013
We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-

Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.
Fatalism.
That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.
To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.
I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-
When it’s time, we stop.
It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.
You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.
At this point, I take a break to receive a visit from old friends, all of which were instrumental in some way to the beginnings of the band. We talk about the old days, and we talk about music, we talk about new things. We laugh and drink diet soda. We say goodbyes, I go to bed, to resume my letter in the morning, which is->
Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.
There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…
I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.

We get the cue to hit the stage.
The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.
All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.
What it said is between me and the voice.
I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.
Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.
There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-
That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?
With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.

译文: 为鸟和玻璃守夜 By Gerard Way ( 翻译: 布丁) “我早上醒来的时候还在做梦，或者说只是还没有充分认识到自己。太阳透过窗户，触碰着我的脸，然后我就感到深深的难过，突然间，一切把我拉回了现时,我意识到,My Chemical Romance 已不复存在了。
走下楼我能想到做的唯一的事情，便是像往常一样煮咖啡。
咖啡就这么一滴滴下来，是这样的沉默地,发生在这个早晨，在这个只有我起了床的早晨.我走到屋子外，身后的门开着。环顾四周，我吸了口气。一切看起来就像和往常一样---是美好的一天。
当我转过身来回屋时，听到从一阵啁啾声和沙沙的声音，而且我注意到一只棕色的小鸟儿飞进了的书房。本能反应，我惊了一下。我想我必须去看看鸟儿是否安全健康，也不能让他在我家里弄乱点什么，毕竟他不可能就这么呆在我们家了。我追着他（就这么假定他是一只雄鸟）进了我的办公室，在那里有非常大的窗户。
就在这时，幸运的是，我听到了Lindsey下楼的脚步声，好像自然地就洞悉了这一切 ，她抓起一条毯子，走进办公室。可是小鸟应该是不可能被抓住的吧，于是我打开窗户，往Lindsey的方向看过去，发现，他被挡在了那边的玻璃里面。小鸟开始飞向玻璃，一遍又一遍，往各个不同的方向。
撞击。
撞击。
撞击！
我又听到了一阵脚步声，是Bandit，她跑下楼，又开始她满怀欣喜的新的一天。她在这边瞎闹又只为我添加了一些新的混乱，（她看到小鸟很兴奋），我们追着鸟追进了客厅。我感觉着像游击持久战，高高的天花板和横梁上他更容易躲着栖息，我打开了前门，Lindsey则使出浑身解数，把我们的新朋友往门外引。经过了一系列的嗥叫，乱飞，鸣叫和一个又飞到书房的错误过程后，在Bandit那边又折腾了一小下，他一下子跳出前门，扑哧了五下，飞走了。
我们欢呼了下。
我忽然感到不再悲伤。
不知道为什么，但是刚在小鸟出现在我眼前的那一刻，我就一下子不那么难过了，因为我知道有些事要去做，一个慰抚，也是一个交代。我关上了门。我决定写这封我知道迟早都会写的信。
我的本性往往是很抽象的吧，不过众目睽睽下隐藏着，却彰显地更加厉害。我一直觉得我（单独或与朋友一起）创作的东西包含了我所有的想法和情感，完满的把它表现出来，因此，你们都懂，我就不多做解释了。我一点都不擅长找借口，辩解或者去想我所采取的行动会有怎样的结果，所以我的思维很直接，以我是非观的真理为准则。
我一直都觉得这种形式下，乐队的解散会不太一样，可不幸的是，它真的发生了。乐队还在的时候，我会对这事儿保持神秘的缄默，但最终还是由我打开来宣布它的逝去。
最坦白的行动出自真相，而不是义务。而事实的真相是，我爱你们每个人。
因此，如果你被我的这些所打动，你感受到了什么，像一束光照亮了你心中所有的地方，或对我的情感或者思想感同身受，那么我告诉你，这就是一种爱，相爱扶持，而不是责任。
爱。
这一直是我简单的意图。
My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013
我们是蔚为壮观的。
我知道，这每场演出，每场演出我觉得它都反馈给我外界的认可抑或是不认可。
有时候，我们的二手齿轮坏了，还是有一些旧车可以换。有时候我没有发言权，可我们依然很棒。这种信念造就了我们，但也有许多其他的因素，这所有都十分重要，也是我们乐队兴衰荣辱的历史的关键词。 摩擦。创作。销毁。反对。侵略。野心。真心。恨意。勇气。精力。美貌。无奈。爱。恐惧。魅力。弱点。希望。
宿命。
这最后一个是非常重要的。My Chemical Romance ，建立在其核心，安逸中的消亡。就像是世界末日装置，在某些事件发生或不再发生时，终会引爆。乐队成立以来，在短短几周之内，我就把这个理念告诉了大家。

就个人而言，我再一次拥抱审视它，因为，是它让我们完美。一个完美的机器，美丽的，但也有自己的思想意识。在它快爆炸之前就自我终止以避免带来更多的伤害。我会保护的这理念，不惜一切代价。这可能听起来像四格漫画书里的感觉，这就是我想表达的。
没有妥协。没有投降。没有不堪的垃圾。
对我来说，这就是摇滚乐。我相信深爱摇滚乐。
我不羞于告诉你我到底是在对谁说这段话。不是做新闻，不是对哪个粉丝，也不是对那个家人朋友说。我想表达的都在歌词里，它是在一种暗语。我经常看着记者窃笑着提到它，觉得我是煽情或滥情（好像我是最有可能在世界末日打扮成一个撕开医院袍子的疯子，脸上充斥着夸张的表情带着乐队进行演出，所以他们这么想也没什么不对）。
我还是不懂如果一个机制正常运行，是出于它不是立马就爆炸，而是一个缓慢的过程。但还是结果是一样的，而且还出于同样的原因，
是时候，我们就解散了。
重要的是要明白，对我们来说，这真的是很难把这个决定告诉大家，告诉你们。再者，也想保护你们心中那没有崩塌的梦想。很多乐队都会等外界播报解散的事，通过门票销售，图表统计，嘘声或是满瓶子的尿来结束这一切。认为不会动摇这事儿对我们来说，往往为时已晚，终究是要走向解散的。
你应该知道,这天终会到来，你心底的那个声音也是这么告诉你的。内心的力量会比音乐的力量来得更加强大。
对于这一点，刚才闲余之时陆陆续续有老朋友来看我，几乎都是在乐队成立的时候就认识的老友。我们谈论过去，谈论音乐，谈谈新事物。我们笑着喝喝助减肥的苏打水。道别之后，我去睡觉了，第二天早上我继续写这封信，就是 - >
现在，
My Chemical Romance 的解散有很多原因。到底是什么事触发的已不重要，循序渐进的都有些消息透露出来,在歌词里或是别的什么,这才是重要的。但重申，这是我的个人考量，我自身的原因和我的感情。而且我可以向你保证,没有离婚，吵架，失败，意外事故，犯小人，或是被人背后捅刀子之类的事情，所以到今天这个地步并不是谁错了，我把这些个秘密悄悄地藏在了作品中，不论到底告清楚了与否，反正和任何追求轰动效应啦，丑闻，或谣言扯不上边。
甚至不是那种在枪林弹雨中杀出个荣耀什么的感觉...
我在Asbury Park，新泽西州进行一次演出。这是星期六，2012年5月19日，我缓慢地在舞台黑色大幕帘的背后闲步。我感到微微的海风在我身边吹拂，低头看了下我的手臂，看着因热疹而包着的新纱布，这一直是最近几个月很困扰我的问题。我通常在演出之前不会太紧张，但是，总感觉很混乱的样子。这次感觉却不同 - 我的第六感传达出一种不寻常的焦虑，我只感觉这就像是我最后活着的时刻一样。我的粉丝们都会散去，我已经不再闪耀。我的体温是冰冷的。
之后我们被指引着上了台,表演。
这次的演出......挺好的。不是很棒，不是很烂，只是好。我感到很诧异我注意到的第一件事情不是在我眼前的人群,而是感觉到我的左边是海岸和浩瀚的海洋。比我孩提时代脑子里的海还要来得蓝。天空还是一样充满活力。我演出着，像半自动化这么个状态，感觉到有什么在崩塌。
我在演戏而已。我从来都是自我发挥并没有像今天一样可以表演控制，甚至当我之前一个人独白,想说点什么也是感由心生。突然间，我高度意识到什么，就像是从梦中醒了过来。我跑跳着，更加疯狂，鲁莽，试图摆脱这个念头，但是只能让沉默变得更加的沉默。扩音器，欢呼声，都开始褪了色。
最后所有剩下的就是最内在声音，我可以听得很清楚。它没有叫喊，低声地，简要地，明白地，亲切地对我说着话。
我和我的声音。
我本预备无视它，接下来的几个月却感觉更加痛苦，对我来说，就像是被掏空了，停止听音乐，不再创作，开始陷入旧习惯中。我曾经看到的所有的活力都到了饱和。然后不见了。我曾经看到的一切，尤其是艺术或脱俗,令人惊叹的能力,也被埋在了残骸里。

慢慢地，我对自己做了足够的伤害，开始爬出了这个洞穴。理理思路。当我想清楚后，又只剩下了那个声音，在我生命中第二次出现，我不再理会它，因为这是我自己的声音。
在这场解散的结局中,我们都充当着不同的角色。我们可以是祝福者，抚慰者，同情者，诽谤者，喜剧演员，另你伤心的角色，或是受害者.
这最后一个，又是重要的。我从来没有想过自己是个受害者，我的兄弟们不是，我的粉丝们，你们更加不是我想伤害的。对于我们来说，我们会做好自己从而也反驳外界小报评论我们的种种。更重要的是，这些流言完全忽略了我们乐队的核心。所以，我们学到了什么？
荣誉感，正直，封闭，并没有在别的什么条件下促使，但这扇门是时候关上了。
但这并不意味着结束。
今天早上，我醒来得早。赶紧刷牙，扔在一些宽松的牛仔裤，跳上了我的车。我慢慢地减速了405,在晨雾中把它停在了Palo Verde的一个随机的停车场，在那里我遇见了一个不错的名叫Norm的绅士。他年纪大了，自称“嬉皮士”，但他在一个车库摇滚乐队中演出时就像回到了十六岁。这次见他是因为购入扩音器的事儿。最近我从他那里购买扩音器，我们都一致认为，航运会积压到内部的线管，所以他挺好的,来当面交给我。
一个1965年产的Fender Princeton Amp ，混响扩音器。真是漂亮的小设备。
他向我展示了细节，扬声器，接地插头，原来的标签和不知道是之前男人还是女人写上去的粉笔记号，
“这个扩音器会说话哦。”他说到。
我笑了。
我们买了咖啡，从金箔皮卡谈到生活。我们坐在车上，放着彼此的音乐。之后便分道扬镳，承诺会保持联系，之后我开车回了家。
我最先有成立My Chemical Romance念头的那会儿，还坐在我父母的地下室里，拿起一个刷吉他的小东西，只前早就被我丢弃的小东西吧。这是一个90年代墨西哥的小挡板，普莱西德湖蓝色，但在幼时的我眼里它简直是太干净，太漂亮了，所以我玩了起来，直至它露出红色油漆下的蓝色，它本应该有的颜色。在后面贴上块胶布，觉得还是可以接受的。我把它插入到这一个小小的木箱扩音器，内置失真，并开始了奏出第一个Skylines和Turnstiles的和弦。
这把吉他我到现在还保存着，就放在普林斯顿那把的旁边。
他也是会说话的，我很乐意听听它的点拨。
最后，我要感谢每一个粉丝。我从你们身上学到的，也许比你们认为从我这儿学到的还要多。我唯一感到遗憾的是，我的名声和这仓促的告别。但我永远不会忘记的你们每个人的脸，或是从你们这儿得到的所有情感。
我感受到爱,我爱你们。
我爱你，爱我们的工作人员，我们的团队，还有每一个和乐队走过荣辱兴衰的你们---
Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.
我不擅长告别,所以我们就不说这个了吧。但是我要离开之时告诉你最后这件事-
My Chemical Romance解散了。但它永远不会死去。
他活在我心中，在大家心中，在你们每一个人心中。
我一直都坚信这一点，我想你们也是。
因为他是不仅仅是一个乐队
他是一种信念。
爱你，
Gerard。"

翻译难免会有个人情感色彩 时间仓促，
有问题欢迎各位MCRmy指正
在此以译文感谢一路支持MCR的你们
最近很忙,搞合唱的事还有自己学校里面的功课
长推太长
所以有错误的话请见谅

在微博看到就赶紧跑来顶贴了

看到最后直接哭QAQ【明明很想说什么又有说不出是……

布丁好厉害！果然我这个英文渣准备有时间翻翻字典的计划不需要了～虽然看到这个有难过不过更多的还是释然吧，起码我理解了解散的原因

亲娘这么多字儿-0-

MCR终于走到这一步了～～慢慢看完文，真心的，也有点懂小G的心情了～不论还是不是MCR了，依旧爱他们～

This is our destiny

胖子想让MCR永存~~

而且我可以向你保证,没有离婚，吵架，失败，意外事故，犯小人，或是被人背后捅刀子之类的事情，所以到今天这个地步并不是谁错了，我把这些个秘密悄悄地藏在了作品中
没人在意这段话吗？

永别了>_<

马克

LOVE U

beacause it is not a band，it is an idea
其实前面那一段描写，真心感到很欣慰，不管怎么说，他的生活还是很幸福的...