| 作词 : Lorca | |
| I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries | |
| I want to sleep the dream of that child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas | |
| I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood | |
| That the putrid mouth goes on asking for water | |
| I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass | |
| Nor of the moon with the serpent's mouth that labors before dawn | |
| I want to sleep a while | |
| A while, a minute, a century | |
| But all must know that I have not died | |
| That there is a stable of gold in my lips | |
| That I am the small friend of the west wind | |
| That I am the immense shadow of my tears | |
| Cover me at dawn with a veil | |
| Because dawn will throw fists full of ants at me | |
| And wet with hard water my shoes | |
| So that the pincers of the scorpion slide | |
| For I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth | |
| For I want to live with that dark child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas |
| zuo ci : Lorca | |
| I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries | |
| I want to sleep the dream of that child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas | |
| I don' t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood | |
| That the putrid mouth goes on asking for water | |
| I don' t want to learn of the tortures of the grass | |
| Nor of the moon with the serpent' s mouth that labors before dawn | |
| I want to sleep a while | |
| A while, a minute, a century | |
| But all must know that I have not died | |
| That there is a stable of gold in my lips | |
| That I am the small friend of the west wind | |
| That I am the immense shadow of my tears | |
| Cover me at dawn with a veil | |
| Because dawn will throw fists full of ants at me | |
| And wet with hard water my shoes | |
| So that the pincers of the scorpion slide | |
| For I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth | |
| For I want to live with that dark child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas |
| zuò cí : Lorca | |
| I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries | |
| I want to sleep the dream of that child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas | |
| I don' t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood | |
| That the putrid mouth goes on asking for water | |
| I don' t want to learn of the tortures of the grass | |
| Nor of the moon with the serpent' s mouth that labors before dawn | |
| I want to sleep a while | |
| A while, a minute, a century | |
| But all must know that I have not died | |
| That there is a stable of gold in my lips | |
| That I am the small friend of the west wind | |
| That I am the immense shadow of my tears | |
| Cover me at dawn with a veil | |
| Because dawn will throw fists full of ants at me | |
| And wet with hard water my shoes | |
| So that the pincers of the scorpion slide | |
| For I want to sleep the dream of the apples | |
| To learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth | |
| For I want to live with that dark child | |
| Who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas |
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