Lo! ’t is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
🎵 LRC歌词版本
[00:19.686]Lo! ’t is a gala night
[00:22.057]Within the lonesome latter years!
[00:24.667]An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
[00:26.742]In veils, and drowned in tears,
[00:29.609]Sit in a theatre, to see
[00:34.074]While the orchestra breathes fitfully
[00:39.268]
[00:58.867]Mimes, in the form of God on high,
[01:00.951]Mutter and mumble low,
[01:02.784]And hither and thither fly—
[01:04.624]Mere puppets they, who come and go
[01:07.533]At bidding of vast formless things
[01:09.887]That shift the scenery to and fro,
[01:13.013]Flapping from out their Condor wings
[01:17.199]Invisible Wo!
[01:18.475]
[01:36.799]That motley drama—oh, be sure
[01:39.386]It shall not be forgot!
[01:40.968]With its Phantom chased for evermore
[01:43.846]By a crowd that seize it not,
[01:46.417]Through a circle that ever returneth in
[01:51.931]And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
[01:54.827]And Horror the soul of the plot.
[01:55.619]
[01:56.655]But see, amid the mimic rout,
[01:58.498]A crawling shape intrude!
[02:00.309]A blood-red thing that writhes from out
[02:03.177]The scenic solitude!
[02:05.266]It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
[02:08.172]The mimes become its food,
[02:10.274]And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
[02:12.652]In human gore imbued.
[02:14.722]
[02:15.251]Out—out are the lights—out all!
[02:19.663]And, over each quivering form,
[02:48.919]The curtain, a funeral pall,
[02:51.530]Comes down with the rush of a storm,
[02:54.920]While the angels, all pallid and wan,
[02:59.093]Uprising, unveiling, affirm
[03:04.068]That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
[03:09.559]And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
Lo! ’t is a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly—
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
🎵 LRC歌词版本
[00:19.686]Lo! ’t is a gala night
[00:22.057]Within the lonesome latter years!
[00:24.667]An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
[00:26.742]In veils, and drowned in tears,
[00:29.609]Sit in a theatre, to see
[00:34.074]While the orchestra breathes fitfully
[00:39.268]
[00:58.867]Mimes, in the form of God on high,
[01:00.951]Mutter and mumble low,
[01:02.784]And hither and thither fly—
[01:04.624]Mere puppets they, who come and go
[01:07.533]At bidding of vast formless things
[01:09.887]That shift the scenery to and fro,
[01:13.013]Flapping from out their Condor wings
[01:17.199]Invisible Wo!
[01:18.475]
[01:36.799]That motley drama—oh, be sure
[01:39.386]It shall not be forgot!
[01:40.968]With its Phantom chased for evermore
[01:43.846]By a crowd that seize it not,
[01:46.417]Through a circle that ever returneth in
[01:51.931]And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
[01:54.827]And Horror the soul of the plot.
[01:55.619]
[01:56.655]But see, amid the mimic rout,
[01:58.498]A crawling shape intrude!
[02:00.309]A blood-red thing that writhes from out
[02:03.177]The scenic solitude!
[02:05.266]It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
[02:08.172]The mimes become its food,
[02:10.274]And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
[02:12.652]In human gore imbued.
[02:14.722]
[02:15.251]Out—out are the lights—out all!
[02:19.663]And, over each quivering form,
[02:48.919]The curtain, a funeral pall,
[02:51.530]Comes down with the rush of a storm,
[02:54.920]While the angels, all pallid and wan,
[02:59.093]Uprising, unveiling, affirm
[03:04.068]That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”
[03:09.559]And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
The Woman I am no mirror can see,
My breast are still small and my voice is so deep.
The Woman I am unable （she cannot） feel love,
I wish to cut my ge...
Tongue of silence, lick my lips,
steal my thoughts, and steal my pride.
My soul lies offered as I'm waiting,
intoxicate me when you step inside...
Hol...
La prima vez que te ví
de tuz ojos me enamorí
La prima vez que te ví
de tuz ojos me enamorí
de aquel momento te ami
fina la tomba te amaré.
Acércate m...
The undeniably straght acher is dead.
Sadly masculine his naked body lies beside me.
Streched out on the pale sheets of my otherwise deserted bed
I do...
I once made a Confession,
it won't happen again,
I've killed all my Desires after that fateful Day...
I once had an Erection, well... sort of... at th...
When I was a little child
We often walked the country-side
in brightest sunlight, or in rain
my mother took me by the hand
and as she had me in her to...