Vernadsky 歌词

There in the meadow, he worked at a fast tempo Breathing as he wrote, Carbon like blood from his lips --invisible ships-- Sailing out of the docks Tapping veins in the rocks And capsizing in the seven seas. And the ink pooled on the page As he dreamed his arms turned to stone That children could play on His chest a small boulder that incense was laid on To pray for the breaths that carry the skies And for the blurred sight of the mad and the wise. The earth is a zen garden of rocks and men Conceived in meditation, Inscribed by his pen And now a toast to both halves of the sphere Blood and water to drink til their colors run clear.