[00:00.000] 作曲 : 韩鼎睿
[00:00.000] 编曲 : 韩鼎睿
[00:00.000]Most of the big shore places were closed now
[00:05.001]and there were hardly any lights
[00:07.761]except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound.
[00:14.261]And as the moon rose higher
[00:16.998]the inessential houses began to melt away
[00:19.721]until gradually I became aware of the old island here
[00:24.292]that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes
[00:27.446]—a fresh, green breast of the new world.
[00:32.196]Its vanished trees,
[00:35.294]the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house,
[00:38.048]had once pandered in whispers
[00:40.591]to the last and greatest of all human dreams;
[00:44.020]for a transitory enchanted moment
[00:48.353]man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent,
[00:53.748]compelled into an aesthetic contemplation
[00:57.841]he neither understood nor desired,
[00:59.408]face to face for the last time in history
[01:02.205]with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
[01:06.673]
[01:07.972]And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world,
[01:12.707]I thought of Gatsby’s wonder
[01:14.900]when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock.
[01:19.624]He had come a long way to this blue lawn
[01:23.424]and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it.
[01:29.170]He did not know that it was already behind him,
[01:35.166]somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city,
[01:38.000]where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
[01:41.937]
[01:43.596]Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future
[01:49.256]that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but
[01:54.202]that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out
[02:00.593]our arms farther…. And one fine morning——
[02:02.681]
[02:04.055]So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back
[02:08.490]ceaselessly into the past.

作曲 : 韩鼎睿
编曲 : 韩鼎睿
Most of the big shore places were closed now
and there were hardly any lights
except the shadowy, moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound.
And as the moon rose higher
the inessential houses began to melt away
until gradually I became aware of the old island here
that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes
—a fresh, green breast of the new world.
Its vanished trees,
the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house,
had once pandered in whispers
to the last and greatest of all human dreams;
for a transitory enchanted moment
man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent,
compelled into an aesthetic contemplation
he neither understood nor desired,
face to face for the last time in history
with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world,
I thought of Gatsby’s wonder
when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock.
He had come a long way to this blue lawn
and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it.
He did not know that it was already behind him,
somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city,
where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future
that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but
that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out
our arms farther…. And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back
ceaselessly into the past.