[00:00.00] 作曲 : Michael J. Moynihan/Robert Ferbrache
[00:11.28] Between Birds of Prey
[00:35.82] Who would here descend?
[00:38.73] How soon is he swallowed up by the depths?
[00:45.51] Thou, Zarathoestra, still lovesth the abysses
[00:49.05] Lovesth them as dosth the fur tree
[00:59.10] The fur flings its roots
[01:01.92] And the rock itself gazes
[01:05.94] Shuddering at the depths
[01:10.50] The fur pauses before the abysses where all around
[01:16.53] Would feign descent amid the impatience of wild, rolling, leaping torrents
[01:29.88] It waits so patient, stern, and silent
[01:42.69] Lonely...
[01:43.08] Lonely, who would venture here?
[01:46.32] To be guest, to be thy guest
[01:51.51] A bird of prey, per chance
[01:54.69] Joyous at other's misfortune
[01:58.29] Will cling persistent to the heir of the steadfast watcher
[02:04.68] With frenzied laughter, a vulture's laughter
[02:09.81] Wherefor so steadfast?
[02:19.11] Mocks he so cruel
[02:22.62] He must have wings who loves the abyss
[02:27.36] He must not stay on the cliff
[02:30.75] As thou, who hangesth there
[02:37.23] Oh Zarathustra
[02:39.39] Cruelest nimrod!
[02:40.65] Of late still a hunter of God
[02:46.77] A spider's web, to capture virtue
[02:53.04] An arrow of evil
[02:56.19] Now hunted by thyself
[02:59.73] Thine own prey
[03:04.23] Caught in the grip of thine own soul
[03:15.12] Now lonely to me and thee
[03:18.57] Twofold in thine own knowledge
[03:21.96] 'Mid a hundred mirrors
[03:24.36] False to thyself
[03:25.98] 'Mid a hundred memories
[03:31.05] Uncertain and weary from every wound
[03:36.48] shivering at every frost
[03:41.10] Throttled in thine own noose
[03:45.33] Self-knower
[03:47.40] Self-hangman
[03:54.51] Why didsth bind thyself
[03:56.85] with the noose of thy wisdom?
[04:00.48] Why luresth thyself
[04:02.70] To the old serpent's paradise?
[04:06.51] Why stowesth into thyself
[04:09.78] Thyself?
[04:18.03] A sick man now
[04:20.31] Sick of serpent's poison
[04:23.82] A captive now
[04:26.13] Who has drawn the hardest lot
[04:27.84] In thine own shaft
[04:33.87] Now doesth thou workesth
[04:35.34] In thine own cavern?
[04:39.51] Digging in thyself
[04:42.57] Helpless quite
[04:45.99] stiff, a cold corpse
[04:49.56] Overwhelmed with a hundred burdens
[04:53.04] Overburdened by thyself
[04:56.73] A knower, a self-knower
[05:08.04] The wise Zarathoestra
[05:08.55] Thou soughtesth the heaviest burden
[05:11.76] So foundesth thou thyself
[05:15.63] And cansth not shake thyself off
[05:26.58] Watching
[05:26.73] Crouching
[05:29.64] One that stands up right no more
[05:33.45] Thou with grow deformed
[05:35.31] Even in thy grave
[05:36.81] Deformed spirit
[05:40.98] And of late, still so proud
[05:44.01] On all the stilts of thy pride
[05:46.17] Of late, still the godless hermit,
[05:52.47] The hermit with one comrade, the devil
[05:58.32] The scarlet prince of every devilmen's
[06:01.38] Now between two nothings
[06:15.12] Huddled up a question mark
[06:20.22] A weary riddle
[06:24.03] A riddle for vultures
[06:27.99] They will solve thee
[06:31.41] they hunger already for thy solution
[06:36.48] They flutter already about their riddle
[06:42.45] About thee
[06:44.25] The doomed one
[06:47.70] Oh Zarathoestra
[06:48.60] Self-knower
[06:51.09] Self-hangman

作曲 : Michael J. Moynihan/Robert Ferbrache
Between Birds of Prey
Who would here descend?
How soon is he swallowed up by the depths?
Thou, Zarathoestra, still lovesth the abysses
Lovesth them as dosth the fur tree
The fur flings its roots
And the rock itself gazes
Shuddering at the depths
The fur pauses before the abysses where all around
Would feign descent amid the impatience of wild, rolling, leaping torrents
It waits so patient, stern, and silent
Lonely...
Lonely, who would venture here?
To be guest, to be thy guest
A bird of prey, per chance
Joyous at other's misfortune
Will cling persistent to the heir of the steadfast watcher
With frenzied laughter, a vulture's laughter
Wherefor so steadfast?
Mocks he so cruel
He must have wings who loves the abyss
He must not stay on the cliff
As thou, who hangesth there
Oh Zarathustra
Cruelest nimrod!
Of late still a hunter of God
A spider's web, to capture virtue
An arrow of evil
Now hunted by thyself
Thine own prey
Caught in the grip of thine own soul
Now lonely to me and thee
Twofold in thine own knowledge
'Mid a hundred mirrors
False to thyself
'Mid a hundred memories
Uncertain and weary from every wound
shivering at every frost
Throttled in thine own noose
Self-knower
Self-hangman
Why didsth bind thyself
with the noose of thy wisdom?
Why luresth thyself
To the old serpent's paradise?
Why stowesth into thyself
Thyself?
A sick man now
Sick of serpent's poison
A captive now
Who has drawn the hardest lot
In thine own shaft
Now doesth thou workesth
In thine own cavern?
Digging in thyself
Helpless quite
stiff, a cold corpse
Overwhelmed with a hundred burdens
Overburdened by thyself
A knower, a self-knower
The wise Zarathoestra
Thou soughtesth the heaviest burden
So foundesth thou thyself
And cansth not shake thyself off
Watching
Crouching
One that stands up right no more
Thou with grow deformed
Even in thy grave
Deformed spirit
And of late, still so proud
On all the stilts of thy pride
Of late, still the godless hermit,
The hermit with one comrade, the devil
The scarlet prince of every devilmen's
Now between two nothings
Huddled up a question mark
A weary riddle
A riddle for vultures
They will solve thee
they hunger already for thy solution
They flutter already about their riddle
About thee
The doomed one
Oh Zarathoestra
Self-knower
Self-hangman