《掌中春秋》 (The Chronicles in Hand)

歌曲標題：《掌中春秋》

“Some Images generated by Grok from xAI”
地點：永樂市場8F 布袋戲、皮影戲布偶圖片，由Grok修改相片成為會動的作品。
@suno_ai_ on rumble
@Lyrics written with Grok
部分影片來源：
8/30 鶯藝歌劇團：守娘願（謝幕）
感謝劇團精彩的演出

Title: The Chronicles in Hand
Verse 1
In the palm, dukes and generals weave the chronicles of time,
On stage, strings and pipes echo through eternity.
Aspirations soar as high as the heavens, not mere boasts of valor,
Daring to climb the skies to saw the dragon’s horn,
Bold enough to pluck the tiger’s whisker from its maw.
Shadow puppets dance, controlled by rods in light and shade,
In glove puppetry, hands slip into forms to bring them alive.
At the Taipei Theater, tales are passed through ages,
Heroes bear swords, carrying a wild fame for fifteen years.
Chorus
One flute, one sword, to settle a lifetime’s will,
Bearing a wild fame for fifteen years.
The flute’s strings hide tender love,
The sword’s edge bears blood-soaked vengeance.
When tides surge fierce, the sword must swing,
When paths grow tender, the flute may sing.
Traveling ten thousand miles afar, beneath moonlight and drifting clouds,
The heart of home writes a single word on plain paper;
Right and wrong, merits and faults, judged through the ages,
Heroes are weighed for eternity.
Verse 2
Children’s words stir the wildest winds,
Grown-ups hear and their heads start to spin.
Running to the shore to let out a fart,
Blasting four dragon kings to their doom.
Paired sparrows perch across the desk,
Specks of willow fluff drift into the inkstone pool.
By the cold window, reading the Book of Changes,
Unaware that spring has long since passed.
Following the heart’s desire, stepping free as truth itself,
Puppets dance, their legacy enduring through the ages.
From Quanzhou’s roots, Taiwanese glove puppetry spreads wide,
In the palm’s world, dukes and generals bend to my will.
Bridge
Traveling ten thousand miles afar, beneath moonlight and drifting clouds,
The heart of home writes a single word on plain paper;
Right and wrong, merits and faults, judged through the ages,
Heroes are weighed for eternity.
The chronicles in hand, on stage for all time,
Heroic passion, following the heart’s desire.
Chorus
One flute, one sword, to settle a lifetime’s will,
Bearing a wild fame for fifteen years.
The flute’s strings hide tender love,
The sword’s edge bears blood-soaked vengeance.
When tides surge fierce, the sword must swing,
When paths grow tender, the flute may sing.
Traveling ten thousand miles afar, beneath moonlight and drifting clouds,
The heart of home writes a single word on plain paper;
Right and wrong, merits and faults, judged through the ages,
Heroes are weighed for eternity.
Outro
In the palm, dukes and generals weave the chronicles of time,
On stage, strings and pipes echo through eternity.