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¨º³¡¤ù¬O"·¤¤©_½t"¡A¨ºººq¬O"colors of the wind·¤§±m"¡A¨º¬qºqµü¬O"How high does the sycamore grow? If you cut it down, then you'll never know.±ï®ä¾ð¯àªø¨ì¦h°ª? ¦pªG§A§â¥¦¬åË¡A¨º§A¥Ã»·¤£ª¾¹D"°Ú¡A¨º®É¡A§Ú¬ðµM·Q¨ì¡A¦pªG§Ú©ñ±ó§ï²©M§ïÅÜ¡B§ïµ½¡B§ï³y¬ü¾v·~ªº¨M¤ß¡A¦pªG®Ç¤H¤]³£©ñ±ó¤F¥¦¡A¨º§ÚÌ¥i¯à¥Ã»·¤]¤£ª¾¹D¬ü¾v·~¥H«á¥i¯à¦³ªºµLµo®i»P¦¨ªø....·í®É¡A¯uªº«Ü¦³·Pı........
²{¦b¡A§ÚÁÙ¬O«Ü³ßÅw³oººq¡A´N±N¥¦§ä¥X¨Ó¸ò¡u¥Í²z®z»Ä©Ê¬V¿S¾v·~¡vªº¹Ù¦ñ¤À¨É¤@¤U¡G
Colors of the wind¡@¡@
You think you own whatever land you land on §A¥H¬°¦ý¤Z§A½ñ¤Wªº¤g¦a³£¥i¥H¦û¬°¤w¦³
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim §A©Ò¾Ö¦³ªº¥u¤£¹L¬O§N¦B¦Bªºªd¤g¦a
But I know every rock and tree and creature ¦Ó§Ú»{ÃѨC¤@¶ô¥ÛÀY¡A¨C¤@´Ê¾ð©M¨C¤@Ó¬¡µÛªºªF¦è
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name ¥L̦³¥Í©R¡A¦³ºë¯«¤]¦³¦W¦r
You think the only people who are people §A¥H¬°¥u¦³¨º¨Ç¤H¤~¬O¤H
Are the people who look and think like you ¥L̪ø±o¸ò§A¤@¼Ë¡A·Qªk¤]¤@¼Ë
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger ¦ý¦pªG§A¸òÀH¤@Ó¯¥Í¤Hªº¸}¨B«e¶i
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew §A±N¾Ç¨ì±q¨Ó¤£ª¾¹D¡A±q¨Ó¤£ª¾¹Dªº¨Æ
Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon §A¥i´¿Å¥¹L¯T¦VµÛÂŤë¶ç¥s
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? ©Î°Ý¹L«¨¼Lªº¤s¿ß¬°¦ó¦Ó¯º
(Or let the eagle tell you where he's been) ©ÎÅý¦ÑÆN§i¶D§A¨e¿¬¹C¹L¦ó¤è
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? §A¯à¤£¯à°Û¸òµÛ¸s¤s¸UÅ£»ô°Û
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind? §A¯à¤£¯à±N©Ò¦³·ªºÃC¦âµe¦¨¹Ïµe
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind? §A¯à¤£¯à±N©Ò¦³·ªºÃC¦âµe¦¨¹Ïµe
Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest ¶]¦bªL¤¤´ËªQÁô¬ù³Bªº¤p®|¤W
Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth «~À|ÆA¶§¤j¦a¤W´þ¨ý²¢¬üªº¯ó²ù
Come roll in all the riches all around you ºÉ±¡Â½ºu¡A¤j¦ÛµMªºÂ׬ü¥]³òµÛ§A
And for once, never wonder what they're worth ·P¨ü¤@¤U¡Aµ´¤£nÃhºÃ¥¦Ìªº»ùÈ
The rainstorm and the river are my brothers ¼É·«B©Mªe¬y¬O§Úªº¥S§Ì
The heron and the otter are my friends »aÆO©M¤ôá¬O§ÚªºªB¤Í
And we are all connected to each other §ÚÌ©¼¦¹¤ß¤â¬Û³s
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends ³ò¦¨¤@Ó¶ê¡A¤@Ó°é¡A¥Ã¤£¤À´²
How high does the sycamore grow? ±ï®ä¾ð¯àªø¨ì¦h°ª
If you cut it down, then you'll never know ¦pªG¥¦³Q§A¬åË¡A¨º§A¥Ã»·¤£ª¾¹D
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon §A¤]¥Ã»·Å¥¤£¨ì¯T¦VµÛÂŤë¶ç¥s
For whether we are white or copper skinned ¤£½×§Ú̪º¥Ö½§¬O¥Õ¬O¬õ
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain §Ú̳£»Ýn¸òµÛ¸s¤s¸UÅ£»ô°Û
We need to paint with all the colors of the wind »Ýn±N©Ò¦³·ªºÃC¦âµe¦¨¹Ïµe
You can own the earth and still §A¤´µM¯à°÷¾Ö¦³¤g¦a
All you'll own is earth until §A©Ò¯à¾Ö¦³ªº¤]¥u¦³¤g¦a
You can paint with all the colors of the wind ª½¨ì§A¯à±N©Ò¦³·ªºÃC¦â³£µe¦¨¹Ïµe
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