歌曲 | Slouching Towards Bethlehem |
歌手 | Joni Mitchell |
专辑 | A Day in the Garden |
作词 : Mitchell, Yeats | |
(Based on a poem by W.B. Yeats) | |
Turning and turning | |
Within the widening gyre | |
The falcon cannot hear the falconer | |
Things fall apart | |
The center cannot hold | |
And a blood dimmed tide | |
Is loosed upon the world | |
Nothing is sacred | |
The ceremony sinks | |
Innocence is drowned | |
In anarchy | |
The best lack conviction | |
Given some time to think | |
And the worst are full of passion | |
Without mercy | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it's the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Hoping and hoping | |
As if by my weak faith | |
The spirit of this world | |
Would heal and rise | |
Vast are the shadows | |
That straddle and strafe | |
And struggle in the darkness | |
Troubling my eyes | |
Shaped like a lion | |
It has the head of a man | |
With a gaze as blank | |
And pitiless as the sun | |
And it's moving its slow thighs | |
Across the desert sands | |
Through dark indignant | |
Reeling falcons | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it's the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Raging and raging | |
It rises from the deep | |
Opening its eyes | |
After twenty centuries | |
Vexed to a nightmare | |
Out of a stony sleep | |
By a rocking cradle | |
By the Sea of Galilee | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it's the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born |
zuò cí : Mitchell, Yeats | |
Based on a poem by W. B. Yeats | |
Turning and turning | |
Within the widening gyre | |
The falcon cannot hear the falconer | |
Things fall apart | |
The center cannot hold | |
And a blood dimmed tide | |
Is loosed upon the world | |
Nothing is sacred | |
The ceremony sinks | |
Innocence is drowned | |
In anarchy | |
The best lack conviction | |
Given some time to think | |
And the worst are full of passion | |
Without mercy | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it' s the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Hoping and hoping | |
As if by my weak faith | |
The spirit of this world | |
Would heal and rise | |
Vast are the shadows | |
That straddle and strafe | |
And struggle in the darkness | |
Troubling my eyes | |
Shaped like a lion | |
It has the head of a man | |
With a gaze as blank | |
And pitiless as the sun | |
And it' s moving its slow thighs | |
Across the desert sands | |
Through dark indignant | |
Reeling falcons | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it' s the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Raging and raging | |
It rises from the deep | |
Opening its eyes | |
After twenty centuries | |
Vexed to a nightmare | |
Out of a stony sleep | |
By a rocking cradle | |
By the Sea of Galilee | |
Surely some revelation is at hand | |
Surely it' s the second coming | |
And the wrath has finally taken form | |
For what is this rough beast | |
Its hour come at last | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born | |
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born |