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作曲 : Mike Scott/William Butler Yeats/Freddie Stevenson
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
Far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be
For the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
a sadness that may not die
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the foam: I and you!
to white birds on the foam: I and you!
Bend low, that I may crown you, flower of the branch
silver fish my hands have taken from the running stream,
morning star, trembling in the heavens like a white fawn on the border of a wood
Bend that I may crown you, that I may crown you.
For the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
Far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be
Were we only white birds, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea,
white birds on the foam of the sea.!
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