《Over Sir John’s Hill》歌词

[00:00:00] Over Sir John's Hill - Dylan Thomas

[00:00:09] Over Sir John's hill

[00:00:11] The hawk on fire hangs still

[00:00:14] In a hoisted cloud at drop of dusk

[00:00:16] He pulls to his claws

[00:00:18] And gallows up the rays of his eyes

[00:00:21] The small birds of the bay

[00:00:23] And the shrill child's play

[00:00:25] Wars

[00:00:26] Of the sparrows and such who swansing

[00:00:30] Dusk in wrangling hedges

[00:00:34] And blithely they squawk

[00:00:36] To fiery tyburn over the wrestle of elms until

[00:00:40] The flash the noosed hawk

[00:00:43] Crashes and slowly the fishing holy stalking heron

[00:00:49] In the river Towy below bows his tilted headstone

[00:00:56] Flash and the plumes crack

[00:00:59] And a black cap of jack

[00:01:00] Daws Sir John's just hill dons

[00:01:03] And again the gulled birds hare

[00:01:07] To the hawk on fire the halter height over Towy's fins

[00:01:12] In a whack of wind

[00:01:15] There

[00:01:16] Where the elegiac fisherbird stabs and paddles

[00:01:20] In the pebbly dab-filled

[00:01:22] Shallow and sedge and dilly dilly calls the loft hawk

[00:01:28] Come and be killed

[00:01:31] I open the leaves of the water at a passage

[00:01:33] Of psalms and shadows among the pincered sandcrabs prancing

[00:01:40] And read in a shell

[00:01:42] Death clear as a bouy's bell

[00:01:46] All praise of the hawk on fire in hawk-eyed dusk be sung

[00:01:52] When his viperish fuse hangs looped with flames under the brand

[00:01:57] Wing and blest shall

[00:02:00] Young

[00:02:00] Green chickens of the bay and bushes cluck dilly dilly

[00:02:06] Come let us die

[00:02:09] We grieve as the blithe birds

[00:02:11] Never again leave shingle and elm

[00:02:14] The heron and I

[00:02:17] I young Aesop fabling to the near night by the dingle

[00:02:21] Of eels saint heron hymning in the shell-hung distant

[00:02:28] Crystal harbour vale

[00:02:31] Where the sea cobbles sail

[00:02:34] And wharves of water where the walls dance

[00:02:37] And the white cranes stilt

[00:02:41] It is the heron and I under judging Sir John's elmed

[00:02:45] Hill tell-tale the knelled

[00:02:48] Guilt

[00:02:49] Of the led-astray birds whom God for their breast of whistles

[00:02:53] Have Mercy on

[00:02:55] God in his whirlwind save who marks the sparrows hail

[00:03:02] For their souls' song

[00:03:05] Now the heron grieves in the weeded verge

[00:03:08] Through windows

[00:03:09] Of dusk and water I see the tilting whispering

[00:03:13] Heron mirrored go

[00:03:16] As the snapt feathers snow

[00:03:19] Fishing in the tear of the Towy

[00:03:22] Only a hoot owl

[00:03:24] Hollows a grassblade blown in cupped hands

[00:03:28] In the looted elms

[00:03:31] And no green cocks or hens

[00:03:35] Shout

[00:03:36] Now on Sir John's hill

[00:03:39] The heron ankling the scaly

[00:03:42] Lowlands of the waves

[00:03:43] Makes all the music and I who hear the tune of the slow

[00:03:51] Wear-willow river grave

[00:03:54] Before the lunge of the night the notes on this time-shaken

[00:04:01] Stone for the sake of the souls of the slain birds sailing