[00:00.00] 作词 : Wilfred Owen[00:01.00] 作曲 : Benjamin Britten[00:28.32]She sleeps on soft, last breaths; but no ghost looms[00:39.50]Out of the stillness of her palace wall,[00:50.99]Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms.[01:01.90][01:08.24]She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms,[01:23.37]Not marvelling why her roses never fall[01:36.71]Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms.[01:49.11][01:59.98]The shades keep down which well might roam her hall.[02:09.92]Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms[02:24.61]And she is not afraid of their footfall.[02:46.53][02:48.14]They move not from her tapestries, their pall,[02:59.24]Nor pace her terraces, their hecatombs,[03:13.21]Lest aught she be disturbed, or grieved at all.