本家：
鷹食蛇。
https://weibo.com/1789152110/MunyL7Tyb

詩歌：
《夢中的塞巴斯蒂安》
格奧爾格·特拉克爾 (Georg Trakl)
林克 譯
Will Stone 譯

練習(xí)Stable Diffusion的第二作，大概算是里德嵐x塞巴斯蒂安的二次創(chuàng)作？

原本是想搞得更像游戲中的3D建模的，不過硬件機(jī)能有限不能充分運(yùn)用Controlnet的全部特性，不過這樣在原風(fēng)格的基礎(chǔ)上精細(xì)化一番效果也還不錯。

prompts中間增減過多次并Photoshop過幾次，最終配置大概是這樣的：

最后還是做成了視頻，語音部分用的是微軟 (Github上的edge-tts項目)：

裝好后找英國口音的發(fā)音引擎，得到兩個男聲的。

用edge-playback試聽后確定用Ryan，再用edge-tts把摘錄好的詩詞txt轉(zhuǎn)成mp3。

最后將生成的mp3用Adobe Audition調(diào)音到類似游戲中的效果。

BGM選的是Aireey - Revelations，篝火聲非常動聽。

最近在讀海德格爾并被他安利了格奧爾格，最后貼下全詩：

夢中的塞巴斯蒂安
——獻(xiàn)給A·洛斯

1
悄悄在昏暗的窗前；祖祖輩輩的
老家當(dāng)
已經(jīng)朽壞；愛情與秋天的夢幻。

年的那一天于是黯淡，憂傷的童年，
當(dāng)男童悄悄蹚入清冽的湖水，銀色的魚，
安息與面孔；
那一刻，他木然迎向瘋狂的黑馬，
陰森的夜里他的命星臨照頭頂；

或者當(dāng)他牽著母親冰涼的手
在傍晚穿過圣彼得秋天的墓園，
柔軟的尸體默默躺在幽暗的墓穴，
那人冷眼注視著他。

可他是一只枯枝里的小鳥，
十一月的晚鐘久久回蕩，
父親的沉默，當(dāng)他在夢中走下暮沉沉的旋梯。

2
靈魂的安寧。寂寞的冬日黃昏，
古老的湖畔牧人昏暗的身影；
草棚里的孩子；哦，那張臉
在黑色的迷狂中悄悄沉失。
神圣的夜。

或者當(dāng)他牽著父親堅硬的手
默默爬上幽暗的各各他，
在朦朧的壁龕中
人的藍(lán)色形象穿過那座山的傳說，
從心下的傷口流出紫色的血。
哦，十字架在昏暗的靈魂里悄悄站起。

愛；那一刻雪融于黑色的角落，
一絲藍(lán)風(fēng)欣喜地吹拂古老的接骨木
和胡桃樹的拱影；
男童薔薇色的天使悄悄蒞臨。

歡樂；那一刻小夜曲在清涼的房間響起，
棕色的柱頂盤上
銀色的蛹化為一只藍(lán)蝴蝶。

哦，死亡的臨近。石墻里
垂下黃色的頭顱，孩子默默無語，
當(dāng)月亮凋殘在那個三月。

3
黑夜的墓拱里薔薇色的復(fù)活節(jié)鐘聲
和星星的銀色聲音，
昏暗的癲狂終于震顫墜離長眠者的前額。

哦，靜靜走下藍(lán)色的河流
想起遺忘之物，在綠樹枝頭
烏鶇鳥曾將一個異物喚入沉淪。

或者當(dāng)他牽著老人枯槁的手
在傍晚走近坍塌的城墻，
那人黑袍里抱著一個薔薇色的嬰兒，
惡魔出現(xiàn)在胡桃樹的陰影里。

在摸索中越過夏天綠色的臺階。
哦，秋天褐色的寂靜里花園悄悄凋敝，
古老接骨木的芬芳和憂郁，
那一刻，天使的銀色聲音
漸漸消失在塞巴斯蒂安的影子里。

英文全詩：

Sebastian in Dream
For Adolf Loos

I
Mother bore the babe in the white moon,
In the walnut’s shadow, the ancient elder,
Drunk on poppy sap, the lament of the thrush;
And silently

In sympathy a bearded face bowed over her
Quiet in the dark of windows; and old household tools
Of the fathers
Lay mouldering; love and autumnal reverie.
Dark too was the day of the year, mournful childhood,
When softly the boy descended to cool waters, silver fishes,
Calm and countenance;

When stonily he launched himself before black horses raving,
In the grey night his star rose over him;
Or holding the icy hand of his mother at evening

He passed through St Peter’s autumn churchyard,
A delicate corpse lay still in the darkness of the chamber
And the other raised cold lids over him.
But he was a little bird in bare branches,
Into November evening long the bell sounded,
The Father’s stillness, when in sleep he descended the darkening spiral stair.

II
Peace of the soul. Lonely winter evening,
The dark shapes of shepherds by the ancient pond;
Infant in the hut of straw; O how softly
Into black fever his face sank down.
Holy night.

Or, holding the father’s hard hand, in silence
He ascended dark Calvary.
And in shadowy rock niches
The blue form of man passed through his legend,

From the wound beneath his heart the crimson blood flowed out.
O how softly rose the cross in the darkness of his soul.
Love; when in black corners the snow melted,
Cheerfully a blue breeze caught in the ancient elder,
In the walnut’s vault of shadow;
And gently to the boy appeared his rosy angel.
Joy; when in cool rooms an evening sonata sang out,
From brown beams of wood
A blue moth crept from its silver chrysalis.

O the nearness of death. From stony walls
A yellow head bowed down, silent the child,
As in that March the moon decayed.

III
Rosy Easter bell in the burial vault of night
And the silver voices of the stars,
As in shudders, a sombre madness sank from the sleeper’s brow.

O such calm a stroll down the blue river
Musing on that forgotten, when from verdant boughs
The thrush calls a stranger into decline.

Or in the bony hand of the old man
He went at evening to the decayed city walls
And in a black coat the other bore a rosy babe,
In the walnut’s shadow the spirit of evil appeared.

Groping over the green steps of summer. O how softly
The garden decayed into brown autumn stillness,
Fragrance and melancholy of the ancient elder
When in Sebastian’s shadow the silver voice of the angel died.