There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in his life,more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth.
From the moment it leaves the nest it searchs for a thorn tree,and does not rest until it has found one.
Then,singing among the savage branches,it impales itself upon the
largest ,sharpest spine.
And,dying,it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale.
One superlative song,existence the price.
But the whole world stills to listen,and God in His Heaven smiles.
For the best is only bought at the lost of great pain....
Or so says the legend.
The bird with the thorn in its breast ,it follows an immutable law;it is driven by it knows not what to impale itself,and die singing.
At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come;it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note.
But we,when we put the thorns in our breasts,we know.
We understand.
And still we do it.
Still we do it.

有一个传说，说的是有那么一只鸟儿，它一生只唱一次，那歌声比世上所有一切生灵的歌声都更加优美动听。
从离开巢窝的那一刻起，它就在寻找着荆棘树，直到如愿以偿，才歇息下来。
然后，它把自己的身体扎进最长、最尖的棘刺上，在那荒蛮的枝条之间放开了歌喉。
在奄奄一息的时刻，它超脱了自身的痛苦，而好歌声竟然使云雀和夜莺都黯然失色。
这是一曲无比美好的歌，曲终而命竭。
然而，整个世界都在静静地谛听着，上帝也在苍穹中微笑。
因为最美好的东西只能用深痛巨创来换取……
鸟儿胸前带着荆刺，它追寻着一个不可改变的法则，它被不知名的东西刺穿身体，被驱赶着，歌唱着死去。
在那荆棘刺进的一瞬，她没有意识到死亡的降临，她只是唱着、唱着，直到生命耗尽，再也唱不出一个音符。
但是，当我们把棘刺扎进胸膛时，我们知道。
我们明白。
然而，我们却依然要这样做。
我们依然要这样做。

出处：一个神秘的传说
翻译：参考百度资料 部分苹果亲自翻译
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