《曲线》（Curves） Concept Album 简介 《曲线》是一张以巴西现代主义建筑师奥斯卡·尼迈耶（Oscar Niemeyer）的一生为灵感创作的概念专辑。 从二十世纪五十年代到二十一世纪初，从建设巴西利亚到流亡巴黎，再回到里约热内卢，尼迈耶的建筑见证了一个国家的理想、动荡与重生。他曾说：“我不喜欢直角，我喜欢自由而性感的曲线。”这些曲线不仅存在于混凝土之中，也存在于山脉、海浪、音乐，以及每一个真实的人生里。 《曲线》并不是一张关于建筑的专辑，而是一张关于人的专辑。 八首歌曲，八位女性，八段发生在不同年代的生命故事。她们有人来自巴西东北部的旱地，有人站在新首都的工地，有人在巴黎记录流亡的岁月，有人在海边等待一座建筑落成。她们未必真正认识尼迈耶，却都生活在他的时代，也都被他的曲线所改变。 每一首歌对应一座建筑，每一座建筑对应一段人生；建筑成为记忆的容器，而Bossa Nova则成为时间流动的声音。 《曲线》试图在建筑、历史与音乐之间，寻找一种共同的节奏——一种属于巴西，也属于每一个普通人的温柔弧线。 CURVES Concept Album Introduction Curves is a concept album inspired by the life and work of Brazilian modernist architect Oscar Niemeyer. Spanning from the 1950s to the early twenty-first century, the album follows the arc of Niemeyer's journey—from the construction of Brasília to his years in exile in Paris, and finally his return to Rio de Janeiro. His architecture witnessed the dreams, upheavals, and reinvention of an entire nation. Niemeyer once said, "I am not attracted to straight angles or straight lines. I am attracted to free-flowing, sensual curves." Those curves exist not only in concrete, but also in mountains, waves, music, and the lives of ordinary people. Curves is not an album about architecture. It is an album about people. Across eight songs, eight women inhabit different moments in Brazilian history. One arrives from Brazil's drought-stricken Northeast to work as a draftswoman. Another watches a new capital rise from the plateau. One documents exile in Paris, while another waits beside the sea for a building to be completed. They may never truly know Niemeyer, yet each of their lives is quietly shaped by his work. Each song corresponds to one building, and each building becomes a vessel for memory. Through Bossa Nova, architecture and history dissolve into intimate human stories, where every curve is also a journey through time. -- 第一首：绘图员（The Draftswoman） 1957年，一位年轻女孩离开巴西东北部，来到刚刚动工的巴西利亚。 她成了尼迈耶事务所里的一名绘图员。 每天，她用墨水描绘一条又一条曲线，却不知道自己正在参与一个国家未来的诞生。她画过无数建筑，却从未留下自己的名字；她描绘别人的梦想，也把自己的青春留在了一张张蓝图之间。 这首歌对应的是尼迈耶设计的黎明宫（Palácio da Alvorada）——巴西利亚最早建成的重要建筑之一。"Alvorada" 在葡萄牙语中意为"黎明"，象征着一个新首都的开始，也象征着一个年轻女性人生的起点。 她来到这里寻找工作，却在一条条优雅的曲线中，慢慢学会了梦想、孤独，以及成长。 Track One: The Draftswoman In 1957, a young woman leaves Brazil's Northeast and travels to the vast plateau where Brasília is only beginning to exist. She is neither an architect nor an engineer. She is simply a draftswoman in Oscar Niemeyer's studio. Day after day, she traces graceful curves in black ink, unaware that she is helping draw the future of an entire nation. She gives form to buildings that will become icons, yet her own name never appears on the drawings. While sketching someone else's vision, she quietly leaves her youth between sheets of blueprint paper. The song is inspired by Niemeyer's Palácio da Alvorada (Palace of Dawn), one of the first major buildings completed in Brasília. "Alvorada" means dawn—the beginning of a new capital, and the beginning of a young woman's own journey. She arrives looking for work. Without realizing it, she begins to draw not only buildings, but the shape of her own future. -- Track 1 Red Earth (Terra Vermelha) (Bossa Nova, slow tempo) Verse 1 I was born where the morning opens slowly Where the sun paints gold across the plain Where my mother hung the white clothes in the wind And sang softly through the summer rain The river was a silver line in the distance The sky was a cathedral without walls Every stone beneath my little footsteps Held a story, held a voice, held it all Pre-Chorus Before I knew the world was wide Before I dreamed of leaving home I learned the language of the earth I learned I was never alone Chorus Oh, red earth beneath my feet Terra vermelha, meu coração You are the song I carry with me You are my first and oldest song Ô minha terra, minha vida Sertão de luz e solidão I may walk a thousand roads someday But I will carry you along Verse 2 My father kept his books beside the window He taught me every letter, every name He said, "A girl with a curious mind Can build a future from a flame" My mother smiled and touched my forehead "Menina, escuta o vento cantar" She said the wind remembers everything Every dream, every tear, every star Bridge There are cracks upon this land But flowers still grow through the stone There are seasons of waiting But nothing living waits alone Eu sou filha da terra Eu sou filha do sol Tenho raízes profundas Mesmo quando vou (I am a daughter of the earth I am a daughter of the sun I have deep roots Even when I leave) Final Chorus Oh, red earth beneath my feet Terra vermelha, meu primeiro amor You gave me strength, you gave me rhythm You gave me my own voice and color Ô sertão, guarda meu nome Não me deixe esquecer For wherever the road may take me I will always return to you Outro Red earth... Terra vermelha... My first home... Meu coração... 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第八曲 全剧终 -- 《Grandmother's River（外祖母的河）》 时间：2003年，第二次刚果战争结束后，和平协议签署之际。 恩萨拉已经离世两年。她的外孙女正值青春年华，即将步入婚姻。在村庄重新恢复平静的日子里，她一边编织嫁衣，一边唱起外祖母童年时教给她的歌。歌中没有战争，没有仇恨，只有河流、树木、飞鸟、雨季，以及一个普通女人对家庭、土地和未来最朴素的期盼。 然而，观众知道，这份来之不易的宁静只是短暂的停歇。远方再次传来的枪声预示着新的冲突即将降临。年轻的歌者仍沉浸在对婚姻和未来的憧憬中，正如半个世纪前的恩萨拉一样，相信生活终将胜过苦难。 《外祖母的河》既是一首献给恩萨拉的追忆之歌，也是一首献给刚果无数普通女性的歌。她们在时代的洪流中养育生命、守护家庭，把希望一代又一代地传递下去，如同奔流不息的刚果河。 Grandmother's River Set in 2003, shortly after the signing of the peace agreement that formally ended the Second Congo War. Nsala has been gone for two years. Her granddaughter, now a young woman preparing for marriage, sits weaving her wedding cloth and softly sings the simple song her grandmother taught her as a child. It is a song of rivers, birds, mango trees, rain, and home—a song untouched by politics, spoken in the language of ordinary life. Yet the audience knows what she does not: the peace is fragile. Beyond the village, the echoes of violence have not disappeared. As the melody unfolds, memories of Nsala's youth merge with the granddaughter's dreams, revealing how hope survives from one generation to the next, even as history threatens to repeat itself. Grandmother's River is both a remembrance of Nsala and a tribute to countless Congolese women whose quiet resilience has carried families, communities, and memories through decades of conflict. Like the Congo River itself, their stories continue to flow long after they are gone. -- Grandmother's River Grandma said, wash with the river. Grandma said, sing with the birds. Grandma said, never count sorrow. Count the children. Count the stars. Chorus River, carry me home. River, carry my name. If I forget, you remember. River, remember me. Grandma laughed under the mango tree. Grandma danced before the rains. Grandma loved one quiet man. She made a home with empty hands. (Chorus) Now I weave my wedding cloth. Now I dream my wedding song. I wear her beads. I wear her smile. I think the road is kind. (Chorus) But the birds fly all at once. Mothers listen. Dogs grow still. Somewhere far, the earth remembers another gun. (The chorus returns very softly.) River, carry me home. River, carry my name. If I forget, you remember. River... remember me. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第七曲 -- 《Little Weaver（小织巢鸟）》是一首温柔而安静的摇篮曲，由恩萨拉的小女儿唱给自己已渐渐恢复健康的孩子。夜深人静时，她一边轻轻哄着孩子入睡，一边回忆起几年前那个改变整个村庄命运的下午：当一位前来研究怪病的医生被愤怒的村民包围时，她的母亲恩萨拉第一个站了出来，卷起衣袖，请医生先抽自己的血，用自己的勇气为科学与信任打开了一条道路。如今，身为母亲的她更加懂得了当年母亲勇敢的做法。在她心中，母亲是一只总能在困苦中歌唱、为他人编织希望的“小织巢鸟”。 "Little Weaver" is a gentle lullaby sung by Nsala's daughter to her own child, who has finally been saved and is beginning to recover. As she rocks the child to sleep, her thoughts drift back to a day several years earlier, when her mother, Nsala, stood before an angry crowd that had surrounded a doctor seeking to study the mysterious illness affecting the village. Rolling up her sleeve, Nsala became the first to offer her blood, transforming fear into trust and opening the way for the research that would one day bring hope to their children. Now a mother herself, Nsala's daughter understands the courage behind that quiet act. To her, Nsala is more than a courageous woman—she is the "Little Weaver," a village nickname evoking the African weaver bird, tirelessly weaving nests and hope even in times of hunger and fear. -- Little Weaver Little Weaver, little Weaver, Who stitched the morning to the trees? Little Weaver, little Weaver, Who laughed before the honeybees? The cooking pot was empty then. The cassava came too soon. My husband counted hungry days By the shape of the moon. My baby held the dust for toys. She dreamed of running free. Each dawn I rubbed her silent legs— Little Weaver, sing to me. Little Weaver, little Weaver, Who can quiet frightened men? Iron flashed like silver fish. Dust forgot the rain. A white-faced stranger held his breath. No one heard his name. Only you walked through the shouting, Carrying no spear, Only those old laughing eyes That never learned fear. You said, "Did medicine fall from trees? Did healing grow like grass? Someone must ask why children fall. Someone must let him pass." Then like peeling cassava, Slow, Without hurry, Without shame, You rolled your sleeve. The whole village Forgot its anger. Little Weaver, teach me still. My child is five. She cannot run. Every night I stretch her feet Toward tomorrow. Every morning The same sun rises, The same hunger waits, The same road stays long. But I remember— You never argued with fear. You fed it your courage Until it starved. Little Weaver, laugh once more. Laugh over dry fields. Laugh over empty pots. Laugh over sleeping legs. If laughter can cross the hills, Perhaps One morning My daughter Will follow it. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第六曲 -- 时间：1985年 地点：扎伊尔（今刚果民主共和国）一个普通村庄。 经历了1983—1984年的严重干旱之后，雨水终于重新降临。田地开始恢复生机，但对于许多家庭来说，灾难并没有真正结束。粮食歉收、贫困和长期的经济衰退早已改变了村庄的命运。许多农民因为土地无法维持生计，被迫离开农田，前往矿山谋生。 恩萨拉（Nsala）四十多岁了。旱灾期间，她已经年迈的丈夫为了养活家人，不得不离开世代耕种的土地，到矿山做一名矿工，却最终死于一次矿难，再也没有回到家乡。 如今，恩萨拉的女儿再次怀孕。前两个孩子都在饥荒岁月中夭折，这个即将出生的孩子，承载着整个家庭重新开始生活的希望。 歌曲中，恩萨拉一边准备一家人的晚饭，一边依旧乐观地唱着简单而轻快的劳动歌。 歌词里还夹杂着几分朴素的讽刺——远方的人们谈论国家的财富和繁荣，而村庄里的人们依然守着空空的锅灶，等待一条迟迟没有修好的道路。 Time: 1985 Place: A small village in eastern Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo). The great drought of 1983–1984 has finally ended, and the rains have returned. Green shoots rise from the fields once more. Yet for many families, the disaster has not truly passed. Years of crop failure, poverty, and economic decline have driven countless farmers away from their land and into dangerous work in the mines. Nsala is one of those who remain. A hardworking and optimistic village woman in her mid-forties, she has endured more than most. During the drought, her husband, already in his fifties, could no longer support the family through farming. With no harvest left to sustain them, he left for the mines in search of wages. He never came home, losing his life in a mining accident. Now Nsala's daughter is expecting another child. Her first two children were lost during the years of famine and hunger. This unborn baby has become the family's promise that life may begin again. As she grinds dried cassava into flour to prepare the evening meal, Ensala sings a simple work song. She remembers her husband, but refuses to surrender to despair. The rhythm of the mortar keeps time with her hope that the rains have truly returned and that a new generation will survive. Hidden beneath the song's cheerful melody is a quiet irony. Far away, officials speak of the nation's wealth, while in the village the cooking pot is still nearly empty and the long-promised roads have never arrived. -- Song 6 (1985, A village in Zaire) (Nsala grinds dried cassava into flour. The pestle keeps the beat.) VERSE 1 The rain is back. The dust is gone. The little stream Is singing on. Grind the cassava, White as the day. Cook it slow, We'll eat today. CHORUS Grind and sing, Sing and grind. Leave the hungry days behind. Rain above, Fire below. Little child, Come and grow. (Repeat) VERSE 2 My old man Went for stone. The field was empty, He walked alone. The mountain kept him. He came no more. Now I hear His feet in the mortar's roar. CHORUS Grind and sing, Sing and grind. Leave the hungry days behind. Rain above, Fire below. Little child, Come and grow. VERSE 3 My daughter smiles. Her hands are warm. A baby waits Beyond the storm. Two little stars Went up too soon. Now one comes back With the rainy moon. CHORUS Grind and sing, Sing and grind. Leave the hungry days behind. Rain above, Fire below. Little child, Come and grow. BRIDGE They say we're rich. Where is the road? They count the copper. We carry the load. They praise the nation. We stir the pot. The rain remembers. The rulers do not. FINAL CHORUS Grind and sing, Sing and grind. Hope is small, But hope can shine. Rain above, Fire below. Little one, You're coming home. Grind and sing, Sing and grind. Morning comes One day at a time. Rain above, Fire below. We are still here. We are still here. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第五曲 -- 20世纪70年代中后期。故事地点仍然是开塞河（Kasai River）岸边的村庄。这时，恩萨拉已经三十五六岁。她24岁结婚，比她大十几岁的丈夫是一位善良、勤劳的农民，虽然腿有些跛，却是种地的一把好手。婚后，她生下四个孩子，但长子因疟疾和长期营养不良去世，只剩下三个孩子。为了让一家人活下去，恩萨拉每天都要到河边清洗木薯、晾晒、捣成粉，再做成木薯饼。这首歌便诞生于妇女们一起劳动的节奏之中。 1965年，蒙博托发动政变上台。1971年，他将国家改名为扎伊尔（Zaire），并推行"Authenticité（真实性）"运动，要求人民放弃欧洲名字，恢复非洲身份。他本人也将名字改为： Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga （意为："无敌的勇士，凭借坚定的意志，从胜利走向胜利，所到之处烈火燃烧。"） 对于生活在偏远乡村的恩萨拉来说，这些口号既遥远又荒诞。她不反对非洲名字；她只是觉得，无论国家叫什么，无论总统的名字有多长，村里的土地依旧贫瘠，孩子依旧挨饿，木薯还是要一杵一杵地捣。 这首歌是一首充满幽默和生命力的欢快歌谣。恩萨拉一边干活，一边调侃那些高高在上的政治形式主义，把普通妇女的智慧、乐观和坚韧化作朗朗上口的歌声。这种笑声，也是普通人在艰难岁月中最顽强的抵抗。 Pound the Cassava – Song Notes (English) "Pound the Cassava" takes place in the mid-to-late 1970s in a small village on the banks of the Kasai River. Nsala is now about thirty-five or thirty-six years old. She married at twenty-four. Her husband is an honest and hardworking farmer whose leg was injured, yet he continues to cultivate the land with determination. They once had four children, but their eldest died from malaria and chronic malnutrition. Three children remain, and every day Nsala struggles to keep them alive by preparing cassava—the staple food of the village. The song is built around the rhythm of women pounding dried cassava into flour, turning daily labor into music. During this period, Mobutu Sese Seko ruled the country after taking power in 1965. In 1971 he renamed the nation Zaire and launched the Authenticité campaign, encouraging Africans to abandon European names and reclaim African identity. Mobutu himself adopted the famously long name: Mobutu Sese Seko Kuku Ngbendu wa Za Banga —often translated as "the all-powerful warrior who goes from conquest to conquest, leaving fire in his wake." For Nsala, however, these grand political gestures feel distant from everyday reality. She does not reject African identity. Instead, she quietly questions whether changing names can change empty bowls. While leaders debate symbols, village women still pound cassava, bury children lost to disease, and hope the next harvest will be kinder. Rather than an angry protest song, "Pound the Cassava" is a lively work song filled with humor, resilience, and quiet irony. Through laughter, rhythm, and shared labor, Nsala reminds us that ordinary people survive history not through slogans, but through work, courage, and an unbreakable will to live. -- Song 5 — Pound the Cassava (Women's Work Song, late 1970s) Verse 1 I pound. You pound. Dust in the air. The river runs. The children wait. The pot is bare. One child gone. Three still cry. So lift again. The sun is hot. The hands are hard. Tomorrow then. Pre-Chorus New words. New flags. New names to say. Old hunger finds us every day. Chorus Pound, pound, don't stop now. Pound till the flour is white. Laugh, laugh, don't fall down. Morning will come tonight. River flow. Children grow. If they eat, we sing. Pound, pound, don't stop now. Life is a stubborn thing. Verse 2 The chief says, "Use African names!" Good. The river never cared. The cassava never cared. Can a long name fill a bowl? Can a speech feed a soul? Bridge (spoken over rhythm) His name grows longer. My hoe stays the same. His papers grow thicker. My children stay thin. Well— Give me short names. Give me full bowls. Then I'll clap for everyone. Final Chorus Pound, pound, don't stop now. Pound till the flour is white. Laugh, laugh, don't fall down. Morning will come tonight. River flow. Children grow. Hands are strong again. Pound, pound, don't stop now. We'll start again. Again. Again. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第四曲 -- 1964年，刚果独立战争后的第四年。恩萨拉24岁。她结婚了。 时间：1964年 地点：开赛河流域一个偏远村庄 刚果于1960年获得独立，但独立并未带来和平。随后的几年里，军队哗变、地方分裂、武装冲突和政治斗争席卷全国。虽然战火主要集中在部分地区，但战争的影响沿着河流和道路蔓延到偏远乡村。 开赛河流域原本依赖木薯、玉米、棕榈和河流渔业维持生活。战争期间，大量年轻男子被征召入伍、逃离家乡或死于冲突，许多村庄只剩下老人、妇女和儿童。河运减少，市场萧条，盐、布匹、铁器和药品越来越难获得；不少农田因劳动力不足而荒废，村民不得不依靠木薯等耐贫瘠、耐旱的作物维持生计。 1964年，战争带来的创伤并未完全消失，但对于许多村庄来说，生活不得不重新开始。婚礼重新举行，土地重新耕种，孩子重新出生，人们努力恢复日常生活。然而，战争改变了婚姻，也改变了爱情。年轻健康的男子越来越少，许多妇女嫁给了比自己年长许多、从战场归来、带着伤病的男人。这样的婚姻并非激情，而是一种彼此扶持、共同生活的承诺。 恩萨拉正是在这样的时代背景下走进婚礼。她曾默默爱慕的年轻教师姆巴。他怀抱着民族独立的理想，却已在战乱中丧生。她并没有忘记他，却也必须继续生活。 婚礼结束后，她独自来到开赛河边，看见刚刚萌发的木薯新叶。 木薯是开赛河流域最重要的粮食作物之一。它能够在贫瘠的土地上生长，即使地上的茎秆被砍倒，地下的根依然会孕育新的嫩芽。因此，木薯新叶既象征战争后的土地重新复苏，也象征恩萨拉在失去理想与爱情之后，仍然选择继续生活的勇气。 《木薯新叶》采用口传民歌的形式，歌词短小、反复，围绕木薯、河流、雨水等朴素意象展开。它讲述的不是一场轰轰烈烈的爱情，而是在历史洪流中，一个普通村庄、一位普通女性，以及无数幸存者重新开始生活的故事。 Part IV – Song 4 1964. Four years after Congo's independence. Nsala is twenty-four. She is getting married. Time: 1964 Place: A remote village on the banks of the Kasai River The Congo gained its independence in 1960, but independence did not bring peace. In the years that followed, military mutinies, regional secessions, armed conflict, and political struggles swept across the country. Although the fighting was concentrated in certain regions, its consequences spread far beyond the battlefields, reaching even the most isolated villages along the rivers. For generations, communities along the Kasai River had relied on cassava, maize, palm trees, and fishing for their livelihood. During the years of conflict, many young men were conscripted, fled their homes, or were killed in the fighting. Villages were left with mostly women, children, and the elderly. River transport declined, local markets disappeared, and essentials such as salt, cloth, metal tools, and medicine became increasingly difficult to obtain. Many fields lay abandoned for lack of labor, and families survived largely on hardy crops such as cassava, which could withstand poor soil and drought. By 1964, the wounds of war had not yet healed, but life had to begin again. Weddings were celebrated once more. Fields were planted again. Children were born again. Across countless villages, people struggled to rebuild ordinary life. Yet the war had changed both marriage and love. Healthy young men had become scarce. Many women married men much older than themselves—men who had returned from the war carrying permanent injuries. These marriages were seldom born of youthful passion. They were quiet promises to endure, to work the land together, and to keep life going. It is within this world that Nsala enters her wedding. As a young girl, she had quietly fallen in love with Mbemba, the village schoolteacher. He believed deeply in the dream of an independent Congo, but he was killed during the years of conflict. Enzala has never forgotten him. Yet she, too, must continue living. After the wedding guests have departed, she slips away alone to the bank of the Kasai River. There she notices the first tender shoots of cassava pushing through the earth. Cassava is one of the most important staple crops of the Kasai region. Even after its stalks are cut, the living root beneath the soil sends forth new green shoots. The young cassava leaf thus becomes a symbol of renewal: the land recovering after war, and Enzala finding the strength to continue after the loss of both her first love and the ideals of her youth. Little Cassava Leaf is written in the style of a traditional oral folk song. Built from short, repetitive verses and simple images of cassava, the river, and the rain, it tells not the story of a grand romance, but of something quieter and perhaps more enduring: how an ordinary village, an ordinary woman, and countless survivors chose to begin life again in the aftermath of history. -- Little Cassava Leaf (Nsala’s Song — 1964) Verse 1 Little cassava leaf, Green in the rain. Little cassava leaf, Rise again. Cut by the hand, Dry in the sun. New little leaves Come one by one. Chorus Grow, little leaf, By the Kasai. Grow, little leaf, Under the sky. Old roots remember. New leaves begin. The river keeps Everything. Verse 2 I was sixteen. The river was bright. The school bell rang In the morning light. A young teacher stood Under the tree. He spoke of tomorrow. He spoke to me. Chorus Grow, little leaf, By the Kasai. Grow, little leaf, Under the sky. Old roots remember. New leaves begin. The river keeps Everything. Verse 3 Today there are drums. Today there are songs. The village is quiet. The night is long. A man walks slowly. A man walks near. His hands are strong. His heart is clear. Bridge He is not the sun. He is not the rain. He is a small fire After the pain. He does not promise A distant sky. He plants the cassava And stays by my side. Final Chorus Grow, little leaf, By the Kasai. Grow, little leaf, Under the sky. Old roots remember. New leaves begin. The river keeps Everything. Grow, little leaf. Do not be afraid. After the storm, The green will stay. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第三曲 -- 1960年末，刚果独立后的动荡已蔓延至乡村。二十岁的恩萨拉每天照常翻晒木薯，等待投身远方的青年教师姆巴归来。她并不理解革命，也不知道战争意味着什么，只记得他临走前说过一句话——“我会回来。” 《翻晒木薯》是一首带有非洲乡村劳动歌气质的民谣。翻晒木薯这一日常动作，成为恩萨拉等待、思念与希望的节奏。她一遍遍翻动木薯，也一遍遍重复着那句承诺，直到村庄传来姆巴已死的消息。木薯终会晒干，河流依旧流淌，而等待的人却再也不会回来。 "Turn the Cassava" takes place in late 1960, as the turmoil following Congo's independence reaches even the smallest villages. Nsala, now twenty years old, spends her days turning cassava roots beneath the sun while waiting for Mbemba, the young village teacher who left to join a cause he believed would bring a better future. She does not understand politics or revolution. She remembers only his promise: "I'll come back." Written in the style of a traditional folk work song, the repeated act of turning cassava becomes a ritual of waiting, hope, and remembrance. As the days pass, the cassava dries beneath the sun, but Mbemba never returns. When news of his death finally reaches the village, the song reveals that ordinary love and ordinary labor often bear the deepest scars of history. -- TURN THE CASSAVA (Late 1960) Verse 1 Turn the cassava, Lay it in the sun. Turn the cassava, Day has just begun. White on the reed mat, Warm beneath the sky. Turn the cassava... Watch the herons fly. Chorus Turn the cassava, Turn it soft and slow. Turn the cassava, Watch the white roots glow. He said he'd come back Before the rains were gone. So I turn the cassava, And sing his little song. Verse 2 Turn the cassava, Morning after morn. One bird leaves the river. One more day is born. The children pass my doorway. They ask me where you've been. I smile and shake my head. I turn the roots again. Chorus Turn the cassava, Turn it soft and slow. Turn the cassava, Watch the white roots glow. He said he'd come back Before the rains were gone. So I turn the cassava, And sing his little song. Bridge Some speak low of far-off roads. Some speak low of guns. I know only river light. I know only suns. The cassava cracks in daylight. Sometimes... I think it is your step. Verse 3 Turn the cassava, Now the sky grows red. Smoke climbs from the cook fires. No word has yet been said. A woman holds my shoulders. She cannot meet my eyes. The evening birds are silent. The river knows. Final Chorus Turn the cassava, Turn it soft and slow. Turn the cassava, Watch the white roots glow. He said he'd come back Before the rains were gone. The cassava has dried. The river keeps on. (Softly, almost spoken) Turn the cassava... Turn the cassava... Turn the cassava... 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第二曲 -- 《隔壁的男孩》 / THE BOY NEXT DOOR 1957年，17岁的 Nsala 发现童年时住在隔壁的 Mbemba 回来了。几年以前，他还是那个和她一起在村子里奔跑的邻家哥哥；如今，他已经在附近较大的地方接受过教师训练，并成为一名小学老师。 Mbemba 给村里人讲起外面的世界：城市、火车、学校、遥远的加纳，以及越来越多人开始谈论的“自由”和“一个国家由自己的人民决定自己的未来”。他甚至会说几句法语。对Nsá来说，这些陌生的词汇远没有 Mbemba 本人来得令人着迷——她第一次意识到，自己暗恋的男孩已经变成了一个她几乎无法完全理解的年轻男人。 这是一首轻快、羞涩而充满少女心的独唱。Nsala 一边偷偷观察 Mbemba，一边担心自己只是一个普通的村中女孩，根本配不上这个“什么都懂”的邻家哥哥。她还不知道，那个令她心动的年轻人，也正在把一个正在觉醒的时代带回这个偏远的河岸村庄。 In 1957, seventeen-year-old Nsala discovers that her childhood neighbor, Mbemba, has returned to the village. Once the boy who ran through the village with her, he has now received teacher training in a larger settlement and become a primary-school teacher. Mbemba brings stories from beyond the village: cities, trains, schools, distant Ghana, and the new ideas of freedom and self-government beginning to circulate among young Congolese. He even speaks a little French. But to Nsá, these new words are far less fascinating than Mbemba himself. For the first time, she realizes that the boy she has secretly loved has become a young man she can hardly understand. A light, shy, and playful solo, the song captures Nsala’s first love through the innocent excitement of a seventeen-year-old girl. She watches Mbemba from a distance, secretly admiring his confidence and knowledge while wondering whether an ordinary village girl like herself could ever be worthy of him. She does not yet realize that the young man who has captured her heart is also bringing the first whispers of a changing political world into their remote riverside village. -- THE BOY NEXT DOOR 《隔壁的男孩》 Song 2 — 1957 [Verse 1] There he is, across the way, The boy I knew when I was eight. He used to run, he used to fall, Now look at him — he knows it all. He came back with a teacher’s coat, A little book and a serious note. He says he teaches boys to read, Oh, Mbemba, you make my heart run free. [Chorus] Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What have you learned? You went away, And you returned. Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What do you know? You speak those words I cannot know. [Verse 2] He says, “Bonjour,” just like that, And I forget my little hat. He says, “Comment allez-vous?” I say, “Fine.” But I don't know what to do. He talks about a town so far, He says there are trains and shining cars. He tells us Ghana has its own new way— I think I hear him. I look away. [Chorus] Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What have you learned? You went away, And you returned. Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What do you know? You speak those words I cannot know. [Verse 3] He says, “A country can be free.” I ask him, “Free from what?” He laughs and says, “One day you'll see.” I think he knows a lot. He says the people have a voice, He says the people have a choice. I nod my head as if I knew— I only know I like his voice. [Chorus] Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What have you learned? You went away, And you returned. Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What do you know? You speak those words I cannot know. [Verse 4 — softer, more intimate] Tomorrow I will wash my dress, The blue one — not the other one. I wonder if he'll notice me. Oh no. What have I done? My mother says, “Come help with food.” I say, “I will.” I wish I could Be clever like him, And speak like him, And walk like him— But he would never look at me. Not me. [Chorus — almost a whisper] Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What have you learned? You went away, And you returned. Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, What do you know? You speak the world... I only know— [Final Chorus — brighter, girlish] Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, If you should stay, Perhaps tomorrow You'll pass my way. Oh, Mbemba, Mbemba, Don't go too far. You know the world— And I know where you are. [Coda] Bonjour... Did I say it right? Bonjour, Mbemba. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第四部 第一曲 -- 《河口之处》第四部是一部以真实历史事件为灵感、但以原创人物生命故事展开的音乐剧。 故事的灵感来自瑞典医生、公共卫生研究者汉斯·罗斯林（Hans Rosling）在其著名著作《事实》（Factfulness）中讲述的一段亲身经历。1989年，罗斯林来到当时的扎伊尔，在班顿杜地区偏远的 Makanga 村进行关于 konzo 的医学调查。这种疾病与木薯加工不充分所导致的氰化物暴露有关。由于村民不了解这些外国医生为什么要抽取他们的血液，调查一度引发恐慌。有人甚至拿起砍刀，包围了罗斯林和他的同事。 就在最危险的时刻，一位大约五十岁的当地妇女从人群中走出来。她没有受过现代医学教育，却凭借自己的生活经验和判断力告诉村民：这些医生不是来偷他们的血，而是在研究一种困扰他们家庭的疾病。她向人们解释，疫苗和药物之所以能够拯救生命，也正是因为有人必须进行研究。最后，她卷起自己的袖子，对罗斯林伸出手臂，说： “医生，抽我的血。” 罗斯林后来把这一幕写进《事实》，成为全书令人难忘的一个瞬间。 本剧从这个瞬间向前追溯。 我们不知道这位匿名妇女真实的姓名，也不知道她在1989年以前和以后究竟经历了什么。因此，《她的左袖》并不是她的传记，而是一部受到真实事件启发的历史想象作品。 故事从她（Nsala）十五六岁开始。 她出生并成长于刚果河流域的重要支流——开赛河（Kasai River）附近的 Makanga。村庄坐落在河岸森林与坡地之间，河流连接着遥远的地方，也把消息、货物、音乐和陌生人带进这个看似偏远的村庄。 几十年间，这个女孩经历了一个国家和一个时代的巨大变化： 从比利时殖民统治下的刚果，到1960年的独立；从刚果动荡的年代，到蒙博托统治下的扎伊尔；从一个在河边劳动、种植木薯的少女，到成为母亲、祖母，以及村庄里一个值得人们听取意见的中年妇女。 她种木薯，处理食物，养育孩子，爱过人，也失去过人；她听河上传来的消息，听收音机里的国家，听年轻人谈论未来。她在一代又一代人的生活中慢慢积累了一种并不来自书本的知识——如何观察，如何判断，如何在恐惧中保持清醒。 1989年，当罗斯林来到她的村庄时，她已经五十多岁。 那个瞬间改变了罗斯林，也让我们第一次真正看见她。 Her Left Sleeve is a musical inspired by a real historical encounter, but built around an imagined life. The story takes its inspiration from an episode described by Swedish physician and public-health researcher Hans Rosling in his celebrated book Factfulness. In 1989, Rosling traveled to what was then Zaire to conduct medical research in the remote village of Makanga, in the Bandundu region. He was investigating konzo, a neurological disease associated with inadequate processing of cassava and exposure to cyanogenic compounds. Because the villagers did not understand why the foreign doctors wanted to take their blood, fear spread through the village. Some men became hostile and even raised machetes. Rosling and his colleagues were suddenly surrounded. Then a local woman, around fifty years old, stepped forward. She had no formal medical education. Yet she understood something essential. She explained to the villagers that the doctors were not there to steal their blood. They were trying to understand a disease that had affected their families. She reminded them that medicines and vaccines exist because someone has to conduct research. Then she rolled up her sleeve, extended her arm toward Rosling, and offered her blood. That moment became one of the most memorable passages in Factfulness. The musical begins where Rosling's story ends—and asks a different question: Who was this woman before that moment? We do not know her real name. We do not know the details of her childhood, her marriage, her children, or what became of her after 1989. For that reason, Her Left Sleeve is not presented as her biography. It is a work of historical imagination inspired by a documented encounter. The story begins when she is fifteen or sixteen years old. She grows up in Makanga, near the Kasai River, one of the great tributaries of the Congo River. The village lies between forest, hillside, and riverbank. Though remote, it is connected to a much larger world through the river. Boats arrive. News travels. People come and go. New music, new clothes, new ideas, and eventually new political realities reach the village. Over several decades, the girl grows into a woman while her country changes around her: from the final years of the Belgian Congo, through independence in 1960 and the turbulent years that followed, into the long era of Mobutu and the country known as Zaire. But this is not a political history told from the capital. It is history seen from a village. She plants cassava. She learns how to process food from her mother and grandmother. She falls in love. She becomes a wife, a mother, and eventually a grandmother. She listens to news carried along the river and to voices coming through the radio. She watches younger generations grow up and dream of lives beyond the village. Her knowledge does not come primarily from books. It comes from living. From observing. From remembering. From making decisions. And slowly, she becomes the kind of woman people turn to when they are frightened and need someone to think clearly. In 1989, Hans Rosling arrives. She is now in her fifties. A foreign doctor, a group of researchers, blood samples, fear, and a crowd with machetes bring her face-to-face with a world she has been watching from the edges of her entire life. She steps forward. She rolls up her sleeve. And offers her blood. Her Left Sleeve is therefore not a story about a European doctor saving Africa. It is the story of an African woman whose life began long before the doctor arrived. He is the stranger who enters her story. She is the woman whose story we finally get to tell. -- 第一曲：《阳光下的木薯》 “CASSAVA IN THE SUN” 故事回到1950年代中期。 恩萨拉十五六岁，还是村子里的一个少女。清晨，她跟着母亲和村里的女人们一起处理木薯：从土地里挖出来，削皮、清洗、切开、浸泡，再把木薯铺在架子上晾晒。对于她来说，木薯不是一种“疾病的来源”，更不是医学意义上的植物。 它就是她的生活。 是母亲每天要做的食物，是家里的饭，是祖母教给她的手艺，也是村里的女人们一边劳动、一边聊天、唱歌、开玩笑的共同节奏。 她一边干活，一边唱起一首轻快的劳动歌谣。 歌中有木薯、有太阳、有母亲和祖母，也有少女第一次出现的朦胧爱情——一个路过的男孩，一个故意装作不在意的眼神，一点关于未来婚姻的玩笑。 歌曲的旋律简单、重复、容易传唱，仿佛原本就是这个村子里的民歌。 但在整部音乐剧的结构中，这首轻快的歌还有一层遥远的回声： 几十年以后，正是这种她从小熟悉的食物、这种代代相传的生活知识，将成为医学调查的核心。 只是十五岁的她还不知道。 此刻，她只是一个女孩。 她晒着木薯。 太阳正在升起。 明天还很远。 The story takes us back to the mid-1950s. She is fifteen or sixteen years old, still a village girl. At dawn, she works beside her mother and the other women, processing cassava: pulling it from the earth, peeling it, washing it, cutting it, soaking it, and laying it out to dry in the sun. To her, cassava is not a medical subject. It is not a disease. It is simply food. It is what her mother prepares for the family, what her grandmother taught her to handle, and what the women of the village work with while they gossip, tease one another, laugh, and sing. She begins a lighthearted work song. The song is about cassava, sunlight, her mother and grandmother, and the small, half-hidden excitement of being a young girl: a boy who passes by, a smile she pretends not to notice, and jokes about the husband she may someday have. The melody is simple and memorable, with a repeated refrain that feels as though it has been sung in the village for generations. Yet beneath its warmth lies a distant dramatic echo. Decades later, the same food she learned to prepare as a girl will become the center of a medical investigation. She does not know that yet. She is fifteen. She is laying cassava in the sun. And tomorrow is still far away. -- 【歌词】 CASSAVA IN THE SUN Song 1 — Makanga, around 1955 [Verse 1] Wake up, little cassava, Wake up in the ground. Pull you from the red earth, Turn you all around. Cut away the brown skin, Wash you clean and white. Mother says, “Work quickly, girl, The sun is shining bright.” [Chorus] Peel it, wash it, Cut it, lay it down. Turn it in the morning, Turn it when the sun goes down. Cassava for my mother, Cassava for my home, Cassava for the hungry ones, Cassava when they come. [Verse 2] Carry it to the water, Let it sleep a while. Mother has her own way, Grandmother has her style. “Do not hurry, little girl,” Grandmother always says. Then she laughs and takes my knife, And shows me once again. [Chorus] Peel it, wash it, Cut it, lay it down. Turn it in the morning, Turn it when the sun goes down. Cassava for my mother, Cassava for my home, Cassava when the children call, Cassava when they come. [Verse 3] Lay it on the wooden rack, White against the sky. Girls are talking, boys are passing, Clouds are drifting by. Someone starts a little song, Someone makes it wrong. I make up a better verse, And everybody sings along. [Chorus] Peel it, wash it, Cut it, lay it down. Turn it in the morning, Turn it when the sun goes down. Cassava for my mother, Cassava for my home, Cassava for tomorrow, Cassava all around. [Verse 4 — playful] If I marry, I will cook it. If I marry, I will sing. If I marry, I will make my husband Carry everything! Mother laughs, “You foolish girl, You are sixteen today.” I say, “Then I have many years To learn the proper way!” [Chorus] Peel it, wash it, Cut it, lay it down. Turn it in the morning, Turn it when the sun goes down. Cassava for my mother, Cassava for my home, Cassava for the ones I love, And more for everyone. [Bridge — softer, almost spoken] When the cassava has grown quiet, When the pieces have grown dry, We will pound them into flour Underneath the evening sky. Mother will make the fire, Grandmother will taste the pot. And I will steal the first warm piece— “Girl!” I know. I know. [Final Chorus — faster] Peel it, wash it, Cut it, lay it down. Turn it in the morning, Turn it when the sun goes down. Cassava for my mother, Cassava for my home, Cassava for the hungry ones— [All / rhythmic repetition] Peel it! Wash it! Cut it! Lay it down! Peel it! Wash it! Cut it! Lay it down! [Final line — alone] Tomorrow, we will eat. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第八曲 -- 《The Leaf I Could Not Keep》 若昂独唱。 归航的船上，若昂带着从刚果河畔带回的植物标本与手稿，望着渐渐远去的海岸。他试图用自己的方式保存那些花叶、名字与记忆，却终于发现，有些东西无法被记录，也无法被带走。这是一首关于离别与失去的民谣。若昂带回了一个他的植物标本和笔记，却把自己最珍惜的人留在了海的另一端。 Solo for João. On the ship home, João carries the plants, specimens, and notes he collected, watching the distant shore disappear. He has learned how to preserve leaves, flowers, and names—but not the one thing he cannot bear to lose. A quiet folk ballad of farewell and longing, the song captures João’s realization that he may bring an entire new world home with him, but he must leave the person he loves behind. -- 【歌词】 The Leaf I Could Not Keep Verse 1 I gathered leaves from distant trees, I learned the rivers by their names. I filled my hands with roots and seeds, Yet nothing came the way you came. The wind remembers every hill, The sea remembers every shore. I write the names of every flower, But yours I cannot hold no more. Chorus Oh, little leaf, don't fall away. Stay with me one more day. The wind can take the birds that fly, The sea can take the morning sky. Oh, little leaf, don't leave my hand. Home is farther than the land. I crossed the world so wide and blue— I brought back all... except for you. Verse 2 I pressed the blossoms, one by one, Between the pages, safe and dry. They'll keep their shape for many years; A living heart is not so kind. Some flowers bloom where no one sees, Some never grow in foreign ground. I carry forests in my boxes, But leave my only spring behind. Chorus Oh, little leaf, don't fall away. Stay with me one more day. The wind can take the birds that fly, The sea can take the morning sky. Oh, little leaf, don't leave my hand. Home is farther than the land. I crossed the world so wide and blue— I brought back all... except for you. Bridge If every tree could speak your name, If every tide could turn once more, I'd trade the maps, the books, the crowns, To hear your voice beside the shore. Final Chorus Oh, little leaf, don't fall away. Stay with me one more day. The wind can keep the stars above, The earth can keep each seed I love. Oh, little leaf, don't leave my hand. Home is where you used to stand. I crossed the world so wide and blue— I found a thousand flowers... ...and lost you. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第七曲 -- The Flower With No Fruit — Song Introduction 《没有果实的花》是音乐剧《河口之处》第三部中的恩萨独唱。 夜晚，恩萨独自走入森林。月光穿过树枝，在地面留下摇曳的影子。她想起若昂，也想起那些共同观察植物、讨论生命的日子。若昂试图为每一种植物寻找名字，希望通过记录让它们获得永恒；而恩萨却从森林中理解到另一种知识。 她想起一个流传已久的传说： 森林深处有一种极美的花，它每年开放，却从不结果。 老人们说： 它把所有生命，都开成了花。 所以没有留下果实。 人们嘲笑它，因为它没有种子，没有收获，没有未来。但织工们喜爱这朵花，因为他们知道：生命并不一定为了留下什么而存在。 一朵花开放的时候，它已经完成了自己。 它不需要变成果实，不需要成为下一朵花的开始，才能证明自己的价值。 恩萨将这个传说与自己的生活联系起来。她明白，若昂总是在寻找可以保存下来的东西——一本书、一件标本、一段文字、一种永恒的记忆。但森林告诉她：有些生命注定短暂，却并不因此失去意义。 花会凋谢。 人会离去。 知识也会随着人的消逝而消失。 可是，那一刻真实发生过的生命，本身就是完整的。 母亲织布时，总会留下一根没有剪断的线。不是为了让这匹布永远存在，而是承认每一代人都只是漫长织造中的一瞬。线会断，布会旧，但织布的手曾经存在过。 这首歌是恩萨对若昂、也是对欧洲“永恒”观念的一次回应： 世界不只属于留下来的东西。 那些曾经盛开、曾经存在、曾经被看见的生命，同样拥有意义。 The Flower With No Fruit — Song Introduction The Flower With No Fruit is Nsá’s solo song in the third part of River Crossing. At night, Nsá walks alone into the forest. Moonlight falls through the branches, leaving moving shadows on the earth. She remembers João, their conversations, and the days they spent observing plants together. João searches for names, records, and classifications, hoping that through writing and collecting, living things may enter eternity. But Nsá has learned another kind of knowledge from the forest. She remembers an old story: Deep in the forest grows a beautiful flower that blooms every year, but never bears fruit. The elders say: It gave all its life to bloom. So it left no fruit behind. People laugh at the flower because it leaves no seed, no harvest, no continuation. But the weavers love it, because they understand something deeper: Not everything that lives must leave something behind. A flower does not need to become fruit in order to prove that it was alive. The moment it blooms, it is already complete. Nsá sees this truth in her own life. João is always searching for what can remain: a book, a specimen, a name, a record that will survive time. But the forest teaches her another lesson: Some lives are brief, yet complete. Flowers fade. People leave. Knowledge disappears with those who carry it. But what has truly lived does not become meaningless because it does not last forever. When Nsá’s mother weaves cloth, she always leaves one thread unfinished. Not because the cloth must last forever, but because every generation is only one moment in a much longer weaving. Threads break. Cloth wears away. But the hands that once touched it were real. This song is Nsá’s quiet answer to João and to the European desire for permanence: The world does not belong only to what remains. The things that once bloomed, once existed, and once were seen are also complete. -- The Flower With No Fruit (Nsá alone) Verse 1 At night The forest keeps no door. I walk. The moon walks too. The leaves know my name. The river knows yours. Verse 2 The old women said, There is a flower Deep in the forest. It blooms every year. It bears no fruit. People laugh at it. The weavers do not. Chorus It gave all its life to bloom. So it left no fruit. It gave all its life to bloom. Nothing was wasted. Verse 3 Mother touched the flower Before she touched the thread. She said, "Do not pity it. Every flower Has its own work." Some make fruit. Some make shade. Some make honey. Some make beauty. Chorus It gave all its life to bloom. So it left no fruit. It gave all its life to bloom. Nothing was wasted. Verse 4 João, One day You will go. Ships always return To the sea. Birds return To the sky. You will follow Your road. I will follow Mine. Bridge Love Does not ask The river To become a tree. Love Does not ask The tree To become a bird. Verse 5 Mother always left One thread Uncut. "This thread," she said, "Is not for us. It is for the hands That come after." Final Chorus It gave all its life to bloom. So it left no fruit. It gave all its life to bloom. Nothing was wasted. I will leave One thread In the cloth. Let the wind Take it. Let the sea Carry it. If it finds you, Do not come back. Just remember There was A flower That chose To bloom. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第六曲 -- 《月下的卢桑迦》是音乐剧《河口之处》第三部中的一首爱情歌曲，由葡萄牙自然学家若昂（João）独唱。 在长期观察森林植物的过程中，若昂发现了一种奇特的植物：白天它沉默无花，只有在夜晚月光升起时，花瓣才会缓缓展开，散发出迷人的香气。他带着欧洲科学家的习惯，用笔记、测量和分类试图理解它，甚至准备为它赋予一个拉丁学名。然而，在Nsá的带领下，他第一次进入夜晚的森林，才发现这片土地早已认识这朵花。当地人称它为 卢桑迦（Lusanga），并世代流传着关于它只在月光下开放的故事。 这一个夜晚，成为若昂世界观改变的瞬间。 月光穿过古老树冠，在地面留下枝叶交织的影子；潮湿的泥土、雨后的植物香气、河流的低语和夜晚的声音包围着两个人。在等待花朵开放的过程中，若昂第一次放下“发现者”的身份。他不再只是一个记录自然的人，而成为一个被自然触动的人。 同时，这也是若昂与Nsá爱情萌芽的时刻。在月光下，他看到的不再只是一个帮助他认识森林的当地女子，而是一个拥有自己的知识、记忆和美丽的年轻女性。他意识到，有些东西不能被命名、分类和占有，只能通过等待、倾听和爱去接近。 音乐融合葡萄牙抒情民谣的浪漫气质与刚果森林夜晚的节奏感。吉他旋律如同月光流动，缓慢展开；重复的副歌 “Lusanga, Lusanga, flower of the night” 像一首森林中的古老歌谣，象征着两种知识体系——欧洲科学与刚果传统智慧——第一次在同一个夜晚相遇。 “Lusanga, Flower of the Moon” is one of the central love songs in the third part of River Crossing. It is performed as a solo by João, the young Portuguese naturalist. After days of observing the forest, João discovers a mysterious plant. During the daylight hours, it appears lifeless and without flowers. But when the moon rises, its white petals slowly unfold and release their fragrance into the night air. Following the habits of European science, João studies it through notes, measurements, and classification. He even prepares to give it a Latin name. Yet when Nsá leads him into the forest after dark, he discovers that the land has known this flower for generations. The local people call it Lusanga, and they carry ancient stories about the flower that only blooms beneath the moon. This night becomes a turning point for João. Under the moonlight filtering through the branches, the forest transforms into another world: shadows of leaves are drawn across the earth, the scent of wild plants fills the air, the river whispers in the distance, and the hidden flower slowly opens. For the first time, João realizes that knowledge is not only something to collect and categorize. Some things must be approached through patience, listening, and respect. At the same time, this is the moment when João begins to truly see Nsá. She is no longer simply his guide into the forest, but a person with her own knowledge, memory, and beauty. As he watches the flower bloom beside her, he understands that the greatest mysteries of the world cannot always be captured in books—they must be experienced. Musically, the song blends the tenderness of Portuguese lyrical traditions with the atmosphere of the Congolese night forest. The flowing guitar lines evoke moonlight moving through trees, while the repeated refrain: “Lusanga, Lusanga, flower of the night” creates the feeling of an ancient forest song. The flower becomes a symbol of the meeting between two ways of knowing: European scientific curiosity and the living wisdom of the Kongo world. -- 【歌词】 Lusanga, Flower of the Moon João’s Solo Verse 1 I thought I knew the forest. I came with my book and my pen. I named every leaf in daylight, I measured every stem. I followed the morning shadows, I counted every tree. But the forest kept a secret it never gave to me. Verse 2 Tonight Nsá led me deeper, where the old trees touch the sky. The river was breathing softly, the night birds were passing by. The air was full of fragrance— wild jasmine after rain, the sweet smell of crushed leaves, the earth beneath the flame. Verse 3 The moon fell through the branches, like silver through a veil. The shadows of the leaves were drawing stories on the trail. The roots became like rivers, the stones began to shine. The forest was a cathedral without a wall or sign. Chorus Lusanga, Lusanga, flower of the night. Open your petals, open your light. Lusanga, Lusanga, under the moon. The forest has waited, the forest has known. Oh, flower of the night, why did I search the day? You were not hiding from me— I was looking the wrong way. Verse 4 And then I saw the flower. White as the morning star. Its petals slowly opened like a door from worlds afar. I forgot my little notebook. I forgot my careful name. For one moment in the darkness, nothing stayed the same. Verse 5 I wanted to write its Latin name, to place it in my book. "Lusanga nocturna..." I whispered as I looked. But Nsá smiled beside me. She knew this flower before. Her people carried its story long before I reached this shore. Verse 6 And then the moonlight touched her, through branches high above. It traced the curve of her shoulders, the quiet shape of her neck. The forest held its silence. The river slowed its song. I had crossed so many oceans, but this was where I belonged. Chorus Lusanga, Lusanga, flower of the night. Open your petals, open your light. Lusanga, Lusanga, under the moon. The stars are singing, the earth is in bloom. Oh, flower of the night, teach my heart to see. Some things are not discovered— they are given freely. Bridge I came here searching for wonders. I came here chasing the unknown. But the greatest mystery was standing beside me all along. Not a flower. Not a river. Not a name in a book. But the quiet eyes of Nsá and the way she made me look. Final Chorus Lusanga, Lusanga, flower of the night. Open your petals, open your light. Lusanga, Lusanga, sing your song. You were here forever, I was the one who was gone. Oh, flower of the night, under the forest moon— Tonight I found a flower. Tonight I found you. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第五曲 -- 《The Indigo Leaf（靛蓝叶）》是文献音乐剧《河口之处》第三部的第五首歌曲。 在索约港附近的刚果河村庄里，Nsá 从小跟随村中最著名的染布师 Mama Kiala（基亚拉妈妈） 学习织布与植物染色。Mama Kiala 曾经用双手创造出无数美丽的颜色，她熟悉森林中每一种植物的秘密。然而随着年龄增长，她的视力逐渐衰退，几乎无法再辨认自己一生最珍爱的颜色。对于一位以颜色为生命的染布师而言，失去视觉意味着失去与世界交流的一种方式。 为了完成 Mama Kiala 人生中最后一匹布，Nsá 决定寻找能够染出她记忆中那种深邃蓝色的靛蓝植物。她想让老师再次“看见”自己创造了一生的颜色。她知道这种植物需要谨慎采集，也知道森林中的某些植物隐藏着危险。 若昂带着他一贯的科学好奇跟随 Nsá 进入森林。他习惯用笔记、图画和分类去理解自然，却仍然像一个充满热情的年轻学者一样低估了森林的力量。当他急于帮助 Nsá 采集植物时，不慎接触了有毒汁液，双手红肿疼痛。Nsá 用自己从 Mama Kiala 那里继承的植物知识帮助他疗伤，也第一次看到这个“带着无数书本进入森林的葡萄牙学者”并不是一个高高在上的观察者，而是一个愿意为了她珍视的人和事承担风险的人。 歌曲通过 Nsá 的视角，展现了她对 Mama Kiala 的敬爱，也展现了她对若昂逐渐产生的微妙情感。她嘲笑他的书呆子气，笑他“知道很多名字，却还不知道森林的脾气”；但正是他的笨拙、真诚和热心，让她第一次感受到一种来自陌生世界的温柔。 音乐采用温暖、轻盈的刚果伦巴（Congolese Rumba）与非洲民歌式叙事结构。反复出现的 “Oh, indigo leaf” 如同民间歌曲中的花、河流和土地意象，象征着记忆、传承和人与自然之间的联系。靛蓝叶不仅是一种染料，也成为三代女性之间传递的记忆，以及 Nsá 与若昂爱情萌芽的见证。 “The Indigo Leaf” — Song Introduction “The Indigo Leaf” is the fifth song of Part III of the documentary musical River Crossing, and marks a decisive moment in Nsá’s emotional journey. In a village along the Congo River near Soyo, Nsá has grown up learning the art of weaving and natural dyeing from Mama Kiala, once the most respected textile artisan in the community. Mama Kiala spent her life transforming plants into colors, knowing the hidden language of leaves, roots, and flowers. But as she grows older, her eyesight begins to fade. For a woman whose entire life has been devoted to colors, losing her sight means losing the very world she created with her hands. When Mama Kiala wishes to complete one final cloth, Nsá decides to search for the indigo plant that produces the deep blue color her teacher has carried in her memory all her life. She wants Mama Kiala to experience that color one last time—not through her eyes, but through the memory of her hands and the stories behind the cloth. João follows Nsá into the forest with his notebooks and scientific curiosity. He is fascinated by plants and eager to help, but he still approaches nature as a scholar who observes, records, and classifies. When he reaches out carelessly to collect a plant, he encounters the hidden danger of the forest: a painful reaction that leaves his hand swollen and burning. Nsá uses the traditional plant knowledge passed down from Mama Kiala to help him recover. For the first time, João is no longer simply an outsider studying the natural world. He becomes someone willing to enter another person’s world with humility. Nsá, who initially laughs at his scholarly seriousness and his endless notebooks, begins to see the kindness behind his awkwardness. Her affection grows not because he is a hero, but because he is willing to care for what matters to her. Musically, “The Indigo Leaf” combines the warmth of Congolese Rumba with the storytelling spirit of African folk songs. The repeated refrain “Oh, indigo leaf” functions like a traditional village song, where a single image—a flower, a river, a tree—carries generations of memory. The indigo leaf becomes more than a plant: it becomes a symbol of inheritance, of women’s knowledge passed through generations, and of the first quiet moment when Nsá and João begin to move from curiosity toward love. -- 【歌词】 The Indigo Leaf Nsá’s Song · Part III, Song 5 (Congolese Rumba with folk storytelling feeling. Female vocal, playful and warm.) Verse 1 Mama Kiala had fingers That could speak without a sound. She could turn a piece of cloth Into a river running blue and deep. She taught me when I was little: "Girl, don't chase the color away. Listen to the leaves, They will tell you when to stay." Chorus Oh, indigo leaf, little indigo leaf, Hidden by the river, under the morning breeze. Oh, indigo leaf, my grandmother's blue, I will bring your color home, I will bring it back to you. Verse 2 But now my Mama Kiala Cannot see the morning sky. She touches every piece of cloth And asks the colors why they hide. I say: "The blue is like the Congo When the sun begins to fall. The blue is like your wedding dress The first time you saw it all." Chorus Oh, indigo leaf, little indigo leaf, Dancing in the forest, singing with the trees. Oh, indigo leaf, deep as the night can be, Carry Mama Kiala's memory, carry it back to me. Verse 3 Then came João with his notebooks, Three books under his arm. He counted every flower, He measured every branch. I said: "Careful, my friend, The forest is not a page." He said: "I only need one little leaf." I said: "You scholars are all the same." Chorus Oh, indigo leaf, little indigo leaf, The forest knows the secrets that no book can keep. Oh, indigo leaf, laugh at the foolish man, He came to name the forest, but the forest changed his plans. Verse 4 He reached for the green branch, So eager, so proud. Then the hidden fire touched him, And he dropped to the ground. His hand became a river Of red beneath his skin. I laughed and then I worried: "Ah, João, what have you done again?" Bridge I found the healing leaves My grandmother taught me to know. I washed away the burning, I watched the swelling go. That serious little scholar, Who knew the stars above, Held my basket through the forest... Just because it mattered to me. Verse 5 Mama Kiala touched the cloth, She could not see the shade. But when I placed it in her hands, She smiled and softly said: "I know this blue. I know this river. I know these hands are mine." Final Chorus Oh, indigo leaf, little indigo leaf, Hidden by the river, where the old trees sleep. Oh, indigo leaf, your blue will never fade, You carry all the hands and all the love they gave. Outro And that foolish man from across the sea... He still carries his books. But now... Sometimes he carries my basket too. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第四曲 -- 《Every Leaf Has a Name（每一片叶子都有名字）》是文献音乐剧《河口之处》第三部的第四首歌曲，也是若昂与恩萨真正相识后的第一首独唱。 17世纪，越来越多欧洲博物学家来到非洲，希望通过采集、分类和命名来认识这片大陆。他们将植物、动物和矿物绘制成图谱，带回欧洲，建立起近代自然科学的知识体系。然而，在当地人的生活中，这些植物早已有名字，也早已融入世代相传的经验之中：哪些可以治病，哪些能够染布，哪些适合编织，哪些可以食用，哪些则必须避开。 歌曲中，若昂兴奋地打开笔记本，为每一种植物记录名字、绘制图样；恩萨却觉得他的举动既认真又有些滑稽，因为森林并不需要一个远方来客来“赋予”名字。她轻松地说出每一种植物的用途，也善意地取笑若昂笨拙的素描。就在这一问一答之间，若昂渐渐发现，真正令自己着迷的，不是那些等待分类的植物，而是眼前这个熟悉森林、聪慧风趣的年轻女子。 "Every Leaf Has a Name" is the fourth song of Part III of the documentary musical River Crossing. It is João's first solo after meeting Ensa and marks the beginning of a quiet affection between them. During the seventeenth century, European naturalists increasingly traveled to Central Africa to collect, classify, and illustrate plants, animals, and minerals. Their work contributed to the development of modern natural science. Yet for the people who had lived in these forests for generations, this knowledge already existed in another form. Every plant already had a name, a story, and a purpose—whether for healing, dyeing cloth, weaving, food, or ritual. In the song, João eagerly opens his notebook, carefully sketching and naming every specimen he encounters. Ensa finds his determination both admirable and amusing. With effortless confidence, she identifies each plant and explains its use, while laughing gently at his awkward drawings. As they wander through the forest together, João slowly realizes that what captivates him is no longer the plants he came to study, but the young woman whose knowledge of the forest is as natural as breathing. -- 【歌词】 Every Leaf Has a Name (João's Song) Part III · Song 4 Verse 1 I opened my notebook, I sharpened my pen. I came here to gather The wonders of men. I asked, "What flower?" She laughed, "You ask too fast." "Learn the river first... The names will come at last." Hook Every leaf has a name. Every bird the same. Every root, Every vine— She already knows Before I write the line. Every leaf has a name. Every tree the same. I draw... She smiles... Perhaps She's laughing all the while. Verse 2 "This heals a fever." "This stains the cloth." "That feeds the goats." "This one—better not." I sketched every blossom. She shook her head. "Your picture looks Like a frightened chicken instead." Hook Every leaf has a name. Every bird the same. I write... She sings... The whole green forest Already has its kings. Every leaf has a name. Every stone the same. She points... I stare... How can one woman Know everything that's there? Bridge Why must I give A new word to each tree? Did they wait For someone like me? She smiled, "The forest remembers Long before your books." I almost forgot To keep my learned looks. Chorus Every leaf has a name! (Every leaf!) Every leaf has a name! (Every leaf!) Not because I wrote it down— But because She speaks it Without a sound. Final Chorus Every leaf has a name. Every flower the same. I came To study trees— But now It's her Who studies me. Outro (repeat) Every leaf... Every leaf... Every leaf has a name... Every leaf has a name... Every leaf has a name... And now... So does my heart. 一南 | Yinan

音乐剧《河口之处》第三部 第三曲 -- 17世纪的刚果王国，森林不仅意味着自然，更是一座世代相传的知识宝库。当地妇女熟悉不同植物的生长季节、药用价值和染色特性，她们利用**图库拉木（Tukula）提取鲜艳的红色颜料，用靛蓝植物（Indigo）染出深蓝色，用拉菲亚棕榈（Raffia Palm）**纤维编织布料。这些知识并非写在书本上，而是在漫长的日常劳动、口耳相传和与自然共生的生活中积累而成。 在《河口之处》第三部中，恩萨走进自己熟悉的森林，采集制作染料所需的植物。她认识每一棵树、每一种藤蔓、每一片叶子，也熟悉阳光穿过树冠的方向、昆虫飞舞的节奏和季节更替的气息。森林不是她征服的对象，而是她的家园，是她成长的地方，也是她知识的来源。这首歌曲描绘了一种人与自然彼此依存、彼此倾听的关系。 歌曲融入了轻盈舒展的刚果伦巴（Congolese Rumba）元素，将反复吟唱的旋律与林加拉语、法语和英语交织在一起，如同劳动时自然哼唱的歌谣。不断重复的植物、颜色和河流意象，使整首歌曲仿佛随着树林中的微风轻轻摇曳。 歌曲结尾，恩萨从哥哥口中得知，一位来自欧洲的植物学家希望向她请教森林里的植物。这一细节取材于17世纪欧洲自然史兴起的历史背景。当时，越来越多的欧洲学者来到非洲采集植物标本、记录物种并建立分类体系。然而，在他们开始命名这些植物之前，当地居民早已在漫长的岁月中积累了丰富而精细的知识。恩萨因此不仅是一位染布的年轻女子，也象征着非洲本土知识传统的传承者，而她与植物学家的相遇，也开启了两种知识体系第一次真正意义上的对话。 In the seventeenth-century Kingdom of Kongo, the forest was far more than a landscape—it was a living library. Women possessed generations of knowledge about plants, knowing which trees produced brilliant red dyes such as tukula, which leaves yielded deep indigo, and how raffia palms could be transformed into woven cloth. This knowledge was not written in books but passed from hand to hand, voice to voice, through everyday work and close observation of the natural world. In River Crossing, Ensa enters the forest to gather the plants she needs for dyeing cloth. Every tree, vine, insect, and ray of sunlight is familiar to her. The forest is not something to conquer or classify; it is her home, her teacher, and an extension of herself. The song celebrates a world in which humans and nature exist in quiet harmony, each listening to and sustaining the other. Musically, the piece draws on the warm, flowing rhythms of Congolese Rumba. Repetitive melodic phrases, woven together with English, French, and Lingala, evoke the gentle songs traditionally sung while working. The recurring images of plants, colours, and the river create the feeling of walking slowly beneath the forest canopy, where light, wind, and memory move together. At the end of the song, Ensa's brother tells her that a European botanist wishes to meet the young woman who knows the forest so well. This moment reflects the historical rise of European natural history during the seventeenth century, when explorers and scholars increasingly travelled to Central Africa to collect and classify plants. Long before these species entered scientific catalogues, however, local communities had developed profound ecological knowledge through centuries of lived experience. Ensa therefore represents not only a young dyer, but also the living tradition of Indigenous knowledge. Her meeting with the botanist marks the beginning of a dialogue between two very different ways of understanding the natural world. -- 【歌词】 Song 3 – Mama forêt Verse 1 Morning walks beside my feet, Soft red earth, the forest breathes. Nkula gives a deep red flame, Tukula, I know your name. Indigo sleeps in quiet blue, Little leaves with drops of dew. Raffia dances in the light, Golden threads so soft, so bright. Dragonflies are writing air, Tiny beetles everywhere. The sun comes down through leaves of green, Every path I've always seen. Pre-Chorus Every root, Every vine, Every color, Every sign. The forest speaks— I answer slow. The forest knows Where I should go. Chorus Eh malembe... malembe... (slowly... gently...) Nzadi, malembe... (River, gently...) Vert, rouge, bleu... Green, red, blue... La forêt chante avec nous. (The forest sings with us.) Eh malembe... malembe... Mama forêt... Mother Forest... Eh malembe... Je reviens toujours à toi. (I always return to you.) Verse 2 Yellow flowers call the bees, Butterflies between the trees. Little mushrooms after rain, Every season comes again. Dark brown bark and silver moss, Nothing here is ever lost. Purple berries, shining black, Every trail will lead me back. If I close my eyes today, Even birds can show the way. I don't need a painted chart— This whole forest is my heart. Chorus Eh malembe... malembe... Nzadi, malembe... Vert, rouge, bleu... La forêt chante avec nous. Eh malembe... malembe... Mama forêt... Eh malembe... Je reviens toujours à toi. Bridge My brother laughed this morning— "A white man comes," he said. "A man who collects leaves, Who writes their names in books. He wishes to meet the girl Who already knows them all." I smiled. The trees were smiling too. Final Chorus (repeat and build) Eh malembe... malembe... Mama forêt... Nzadi malembe... Vert... Rouge... Bleu... Tokende malembe... (Let us go gently.) Eh malembe... La forêt chante... La forêt chante... La forêt chante avec nous... Avec nous... Avec nous... 一南 | Yinan