Poem In October - Richard Burton/Yngwie Malmsteen (英格威·玛姆斯汀)

It was my thirtieth year to heaven

Woke to my hearing from harbour

And neighbour wood

And the mussel pooled and the heron

Priested shore

The morning beckon

With water praying and

Call of seagull and rook

And the knock of sailing boats

On the net webbed wall

Myself to set foot

That second

In the still sleeping town and set forth

My birthday began with the water

Birds and the birds of the

Winged trees flying my name

Above the farms and the white horses

And I rose

In rainy autumn

And walked abroad in a shower of all my days

High tide and the heron dived

When I took the road

Over the border

And the gates

Of the town closed as the town awoke

A springful of larks in a rolling

Cloud and the roadside bushe

S brimming with whistling

Blackbirds and the sun of October

Summery

On the hill's shoulder

Here were fond climates

And sweet singers suddenly

Come in the morning

Where I wandered and listened

To the rain wringing

Wind blow cold

In the wood faraway under me

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour

And over the sea wet

Church the size of a snail

With its horns through mist and the castle

Brown as owls

But all the gardens

Of spring and summer

Were blooming in the tall tales

Beyond the border

And under the lark full cloud

There could I marvel

My birthday

Away but the weather turned around

It turned away from the blithe country

And down the other air

And the blue altered sky

Streamed again a wonder of summer

With apples

Pears and red currants

And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's

Forgotten mornings

When he walked with his mother

Through the parables

Of sun light

And the legends of the green chapels

And the twice told fields of infancy

That his tears burned my cheeks

And his heart moved in mine

These were the woods the river and sea

Where a boy

In the listening

Summertime of the dead

Whispered the truth of his joy

To the trees and the stones

And the fish in the tide

And the mystery

Sang alive

Still in the water and singingbirds

And there could I marvel my birthday

Away but the weather turned around

And the true

Joy of the long dead child sang burning

In the sun

It was my thirtieth

Year to heaven stood there

Then in the summer noon

Though the town below lay leaved

With October blood

O may my heart's truth

Still be sung

On this high hill in a year's turning