[00:00.000] 作曲 : Numericalword
[00:00.000] 编曲 : Numericalword
[00:00.000]作词∶Albert Camus/Matthew Ward
[00:00.000]口白∶Echoes
[00:00.306]1. (page 3)
[00:01.248]Maman died today.
[00:03.752]Or yesterday maybe, I don't know.
[00:07.425]I got a telegram from the home:
[00:10.727]"Mother deceased.
[00:12.745]Funeral tomorrow.
[00:14.939]Faithfully yours."
[00:17.516]That doesn't mean anything.
[00:19.751]Maybe it was yesterday.
[00:22.839]2. (page 59)
[00:25.328]The sea carried up a thick, fiery breath.
[00:28.601]It seemed to me as if the sky split open from one end to the other to rain down fire.
[00:36.485]My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver.
[00:42.495]The trigger gave;
[00:45.796]I felt the smooth underside of the butt;
[00:49.381]and there, in that noise,
[00:52.473]sharp and deafening at the same time,
[00:55.107]is where it all started.
[00:57.741]I shook off the sweat and sun.
[01:01.342]I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day,
[01:05.495]the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy.
[01:11.075]Then I fired four more times at the motionless body
[01:15.061]where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace.
[01:18.631]And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.
[01:24.796]3. (page 122-123)
[01:26.825]So close to death,
[01:29.605]Maman must have felt free then
[01:32.021]and ready to live it all again.
[01:34.741]Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her.
[01:39.114]And I felt ready to live i t all again too.
[01:42.556]As if that blind rage had washed me clean,
[01:46.079]rid me of hope;
[01:48.525]for the first time,
[01:50.392]in that night alive with signs and stars,
[01:53.335]I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.
[01:57.412]Finding it so much like myself
[02:00.980]- so like a brother, really
[02:03.678]- I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.
[02:09.021]For everything to be consummated,
[02:12.106]for me to feel less alone,
[02:14.689]I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators
[02:18.517]the day of my execution
[02:20.592]and that they greet me with cries of hate.
[02:25.655]
[02:28.349]"The stranger. 1942." Trans. Matthew Ward.
[02:31.160]New York: Vintage International (1989).>

作曲 : Numericalword
编曲 : Numericalword
作词∶Albert Camus/Matthew Ward
口白∶Echoes
1. (page 3)
Maman died today.
Or yesterday maybe, I don't know.
I got a telegram from the home:
"Mother deceased.
Funeral tomorrow.
Faithfully yours."
That doesn't mean anything.
Maybe it was yesterday.
2. (page 59)
The sea carried up a thick, fiery breath.
It seemed to me as if the sky split open from one end to the other to rain down fire.
My whole being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver.
The trigger gave;
I felt the smooth underside of the butt;
and there, in that noise,
sharp and deafening at the same time,
is where it all started.
I shook off the sweat and sun.
I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day,
the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy.
Then I fired four more times at the motionless body
where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace.
And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.
3. (page 122-123)
So close to death,
Maman must have felt free then
and ready to live it all again.
Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her.
And I felt ready to live i t all again too.
As if that blind rage had washed me clean,
rid me of hope;
for the first time,
in that night alive with signs and stars,
I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.
Finding it so much like myself
- so like a brother, really
- I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.
For everything to be consummated,
for me to feel less alone,
I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators
the day of my execution
and that they greet me with cries of hate.
"The stranger. 1942." Trans. Matthew Ward.
New York: Vintage International (1989).>