The Sunflower Sutra Lyrics
| Song | The Sunflower Sutra |
| Artist | Allen Ginsberg |
| Album | Howl and Other Poems |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [00:00.000] | 作曲 : Ginsberg |
| [00:08.501] | |
| [00:10.853] | I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock |
| [00:13.649] | and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific |
| [00:17.743] | locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry. |
| [00:22.508] | Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, |
| [00:27.877] | we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, |
| [00:32.816] | surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery. |
| [00:37.488] | The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, |
| [00:44.453] | no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, |
| [00:48.682] | just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily. |
| [00:56.501] | Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, |
| [01:01.260] | big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust— |
| [01:05.760] | —I rushed up enchanted—it was my first sunflower, |
| [01:09.468] | memories of Blake—my visions—Harlem |
| [01:12.641] | and Hells of the Eastern rivers, |
| [01:14.774] | bridges clanking Joes Greasy Sandwiches, |
| [01:17.735] | dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, |
| [01:22.623] | the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, |
| [01:28.524] | only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past— |
| [01:33.572] | and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, |
| [01:36.612] | crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye— |
| [01:42.696] | corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, |
| [01:47.267] | seeds fallen out of its face, |
| [01:49.840] | soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, |
| [01:52.893] | sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb, |
| [01:57.552] | leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, |
| [02:00.690] | gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, |
| [02:06.201] | a dead fly in its ear, |
| [02:08.252] | Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, |
| [02:13.361] | I loved you then! |
| [02:15.772] | The grime was no man’s grime but death and human locomotives, |
| [02:20.138] | all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, |
| [02:24.734] | that smog of cheek, |
| [02:26.445] | that eyelid of black mis’ry, |
| [02:28.856] | that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt— |
| [02:33.071] | industrial—modern—all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown— |
| [02:39.406] | and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, |
| [02:45.042] | in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, |
| [02:50.963] | the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, |
| [02:54.161] | the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, |
| [02:57.842] | what more could I name, |
| [02:59.417] | the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, |
| [03:02.087] | the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, |
| [03:05.535] | wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos—all these |
| [03:08.316] | entangled in your mummied roots—and you there standing before me in the sunset, |
| [03:11.697] | all your glory in your form! |
| [03:14.237] | A perfect beauty of a sunflower! |
| [03:16.729] | a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! |
| [03:19.508] | a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, |
| [03:23.037] | woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze! |
| [03:29.903] | How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, |
| [03:32.936] | while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul? |
| [03:37.271] | Poor dead flower? |
| [03:38.990] | when did you forget you were a flower? |
| [03:42.302] | when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? |
| [03:46.811] | the ghost of a locomotive? |
| [03:48.565] | the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive? |
| [03:53.101] | You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower! |
| [03:57.029] | And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not! |
| [04:02.133] | So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter, |
| [04:07.830] | and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack’s soul too, and anyone who’ll listen, |
| [04:13.732] | —We’re not our skin of grime, |
| [04:16.002] | we’re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, |
| [04:19.502] | we’re golden sunflowers inside, |
| [04:22.288] | blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies |
| [04:26.974] | growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, |
| [04:31.016] | spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. |
| [04:40.949] | Berkeley, 1955 |
| [00:00.000] | zuo qu : Ginsberg |
| [00:08.501] | |
| [00:10.853] | I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock |
| [00:13.649] | and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific |
| [00:17.743] | locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry. |
| [00:22.508] | Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, |
| [00:27.877] | we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sadeyed, |
| [00:32.816] | surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery. |
| [00:37.488] | The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, |
| [00:44.453] | no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, |
| [00:48.682] | just ourselves rheumyeyed and hungover like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily. |
| [00:56.501] | Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, |
| [01:01.260] | big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust |
| [01:05.760] | I rushed up enchanted it was my first sunflower, |
| [01:09.468] | memories of Blake my visions Harlem |
| [01:12.641] | and Hells of the Eastern rivers, |
| [01:14.774] | bridges clanking Joes Greasy Sandwiches, |
| [01:17.735] | dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, |
| [01:22.623] | the poem of the riverbank, condoms pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, |
| [01:28.524] | only the dank muck and the razorsharp artifacts passing into the past |
| [01:33.572] | and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, |
| [01:36.612] | crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye |
| [01:42.696] | corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, |
| [01:47.267] | seeds fallen out of its face, |
| [01:49.840] | soontobetoothless mouth of sunny air, |
| [01:52.893] | sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb, |
| [01:57.552] | leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, |
| [02:00.690] | gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, |
| [02:06.201] | a dead fly in its ear, |
| [02:08.252] | Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, |
| [02:13.361] | I loved you then! |
| [02:15.772] | The grime was no man' s grime but death and human locomotives, |
| [02:20.138] | all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, |
| [02:24.734] | that smog of cheek, |
| [02:26.445] | that eyelid of black mis' ry, |
| [02:28.856] | that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worsethandirt |
| [02:33.071] | industrial modern all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown |
| [02:39.406] | and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, |
| [02:45.042] | in the homepile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, |
| [02:50.963] | the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, |
| [02:54.161] | the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, |
| [02:57.842] | what more could I name, |
| [02:59.417] | the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, |
| [03:02.087] | the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, |
| [03:05.535] | wornout asses out of chairs sphincters of dynamos all these |
| [03:08.316] | entangled in your mummied roots and you there standing before me in the sunset, |
| [03:11.697] | all your glory in your form! |
| [03:14.237] | A perfect beauty of a sunflower! |
| [03:16.729] | a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! |
| [03:19.508] | a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, |
| [03:23.037] | woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze! |
| [03:29.903] | How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, |
| [03:32.936] | while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul? |
| [03:37.271] | Poor dead flower? |
| [03:38.990] | when did you forget you were a flower? |
| [03:42.302] | when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? |
| [03:46.811] | the ghost of a locomotive? |
| [03:48.565] | the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive? |
| [03:53.101] | You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower! |
| [03:57.029] | And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not! |
| [04:02.133] | So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter, |
| [04:07.830] | and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack' s soul too, and anyone who' ll listen, |
| [04:13.732] | We' re not our skin of grime, |
| [04:16.002] | we' re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, |
| [04:19.502] | we' re golden sunflowers inside, |
| [04:22.288] | blessed by our own seed hairy naked accomplishmentbodies |
| [04:26.974] | growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, |
| [04:31.016] | spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. |
| [04:40.949] | Berkeley, 1955 |
| [00:00.000] | zuò qǔ : Ginsberg |
| [00:08.501] | |
| [00:10.853] | I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock |
| [00:13.649] | and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific |
| [00:17.743] | locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry. |
| [00:22.508] | Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, |
| [00:27.877] | we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sadeyed, |
| [00:32.816] | surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery. |
| [00:37.488] | The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, |
| [00:44.453] | no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, |
| [00:48.682] | just ourselves rheumyeyed and hungover like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily. |
| [00:56.501] | Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, |
| [01:01.260] | big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust |
| [01:05.760] | I rushed up enchanted it was my first sunflower, |
| [01:09.468] | memories of Blake my visions Harlem |
| [01:12.641] | and Hells of the Eastern rivers, |
| [01:14.774] | bridges clanking Joes Greasy Sandwiches, |
| [01:17.735] | dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, |
| [01:22.623] | the poem of the riverbank, condoms pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, |
| [01:28.524] | only the dank muck and the razorsharp artifacts passing into the past |
| [01:33.572] | and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, |
| [01:36.612] | crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye |
| [01:42.696] | corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, |
| [01:47.267] | seeds fallen out of its face, |
| [01:49.840] | soontobetoothless mouth of sunny air, |
| [01:52.893] | sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb, |
| [01:57.552] | leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, |
| [02:00.690] | gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, |
| [02:06.201] | a dead fly in its ear, |
| [02:08.252] | Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, |
| [02:13.361] | I loved you then! |
| [02:15.772] | The grime was no man' s grime but death and human locomotives, |
| [02:20.138] | all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, |
| [02:24.734] | that smog of cheek, |
| [02:26.445] | that eyelid of black mis' ry, |
| [02:28.856] | that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worsethandirt |
| [02:33.071] | industrial modern all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown |
| [02:39.406] | and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, |
| [02:45.042] | in the homepile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, |
| [02:50.963] | the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, |
| [02:54.161] | the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, |
| [02:57.842] | what more could I name, |
| [02:59.417] | the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, |
| [03:02.087] | the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, |
| [03:05.535] | wornout asses out of chairs sphincters of dynamos all these |
| [03:08.316] | entangled in your mummied roots and you there standing before me in the sunset, |
| [03:11.697] | all your glory in your form! |
| [03:14.237] | A perfect beauty of a sunflower! |
| [03:16.729] | a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! |
| [03:19.508] | a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, |
| [03:23.037] | woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze! |
| [03:29.903] | How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, |
| [03:32.936] | while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul? |
| [03:37.271] | Poor dead flower? |
| [03:38.990] | when did you forget you were a flower? |
| [03:42.302] | when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? |
| [03:46.811] | the ghost of a locomotive? |
| [03:48.565] | the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive? |
| [03:53.101] | You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower! |
| [03:57.029] | And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not! |
| [04:02.133] | So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter, |
| [04:07.830] | and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack' s soul too, and anyone who' ll listen, |
| [04:13.732] | We' re not our skin of grime, |
| [04:16.002] | we' re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, |
| [04:19.502] | we' re golden sunflowers inside, |
| [04:22.288] | blessed by our own seed hairy naked accomplishmentbodies |
| [04:26.974] | growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, |
| [04:31.016] | spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision. |
| [04:40.949] | Berkeley, 1955 |
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