《Over Sir John’s Hill》歌词

歌曲： Over Sir John’s Hill

所属专辑：Reading His Complete Recorded Poetry

歌手： Dylan Thomas

时长： 04:30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wars[00:00:25]

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

Dusk in wrangling hedges[00:00:30]

And blithely they squawk[00:00:34]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There[00:01:15]

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

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

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

Come and be killed[00:01:28]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wing and blest shall[00:01:57]

Young[00:02:00]

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

Come let us die[00:02:06]

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

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

The heron and I[00:02:14]

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

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

Crystal harbour vale[00:02:28]

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt[00:02:48]

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

Have Mercy on[00:02:53]

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

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

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

Through windows[00:03:08]

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

Heron mirrored go[00:03:13]

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

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

Only a hoot owl[00:03:22]

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

In the looted elms[00:03:28]

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

Shout[00:03:35]

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

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

Lowlands of the waves[00:03:42]

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

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

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

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