淘金记 The Gold Rush(1925)【完整台词】
淘金记 The Gold Rush(1925) 全部台词 (当前第1页,一共 2 页)
In the great Gold Rush, Alaska|was the hope and dream of men,
the ruthless siren|of the Far North,
beckoning thousands|to her icy bosom.
Beckoning thousands|to her unknown regions.
Chilkoot Pass was the great barrier|to the gold fields.
Over this Pass men faced|untold misery and hardship.
Many lost their lives.|Some fell by the wayside,
others lost courage|and turned back.
But the brave went on.
Far into the icy north,|deep into the silent nowhere,
came an undaunted lone prospector.
And somewhere in that nowhere|was another lone prospector.
With cheerful optimism|our little Columbus descended,
then stopped, stepped,|slipped and slid.
"Now let me see,"|thought the little fellow.
"Before I know where I am,|I must get there."
There in that frozen wilderness|a dream came true,
and a lone voice shrieked|into the solemn sky,
"Eureka! I've found it,|a mountain of gold!"
But the elements laughed,|roared and thundered.
In that raging nowhere|was a lone cabin,
and another lone man,|Black Larson,
an unmitigated,|predatory scoundrel.
Out of the lashing storm|came the Little Fellow
to find shelter and perhaps|a little hospitality.
There he sat,|resting his weary bones
as the icy wind howled|through the knothole.
"Come here," said Larson.
"What are you doing?"
"Eating, obviously."
"Get out."
"Go on!"
"Get out!"
The wind also was giving|Big Jim his troubles.
Big Jim was the noble type.|He had suffered.
Oh, how he loved to suffer.|He suffered about everything.
"Get out," said Black Larson.
"Or I'll fill you both|full of lead."
"Now then,|the pair of you, get out!"
"Out!"
That kind of noise|Jim don't tolerate.
"I'll stay right here, understand?"
"Right here," said Big Jim.
"Yes, sir, he'll stay right here,"|said the Little Fellow.
"Understand? We stay right here."
And stay they did,
for days and nights.|The cabin moaned and groaned.
Two men walked and never talked,|hunger gnawed their bones.
"I must have food!" yelled Big Jim.
"I must have food!"
"What are you eating?"|Said Black Larson.
"Nothing."
"Open your mouth!"
"Liar! It's that candle."
"That?" said the Little Fellow.|"How revolting."
"If I thought you were holding out|on me, I'd slit your gizzard!"
"One of us must brave that storm,|if we're to get food."
"Come here, the pair of you."
"We'll cut the cards|and the low man goes."
"You're the man," said Jim.
"Goodbye, good luck."
"Don't forget|to bring home the bacon."
Somewhere in that nowhere,|the law was looking for Black Larson.
Desperate with hunger|and here it was Thanksgiving Day.
Nevertheless there was something|to be thankful for.
"Not quite done yet,|give it two more minutes."
"Come on, come on," said Big Jim.
After scouring the country for food,
the Little Fellow had to admit|he had seen nothing,
not even a field mouse.
From the pangs of hunger,
Big Jim was becoming delirious,|hysterical.
In fact he was a pain in the neck.
"Food, food!" he thundered.
"I can put another shoe in the pot."
"No, no, anything but that!"
Poor Jim, he couldn't take it.
"What's the matter?"|Said the Little Fellow.
"I thought you were a chicken."
"Well, build up the fire,"|said Big Jim.
"What's the matter with you?"|Said the Little Fellow.
"Come, my pretty bird,"|said Big Jim.
"Don't be childish."
"Hey, quit it.|Don't be foolish, it's me!"
"You!" said Jim.
"I'm sorry. I must be crazy."
"You're telling me,"|said the Little Fellow.
"You go inside. I'll take the gun|in case you lose it."
Chicken or no chicken,
the Little Fellow looks appetizing|to Big Jim.
Meanwhile Black Larson stumbled|onto Big Jim's mountain of gold.
Then came the parting of the ways,
Big Jim to his mine,|our hero to his fate.
"Goodbye," said the Little Fellow.
"It's been a great pleasure|knowing you."
Treachery awaited Big Jim|at his mountain of gold.
Big Jim looked deep into the eyes
of Black Larson
and saw there the soul of a skunk.
Caught in a maelstrom|of desperate deeds,
Black Larson swept on|to impending doom.
And out of a dream|in that frozen waste, a city grew.
And humanity warmed it with living,|loving and desiring.
Georgia.
Jack was a ladies' man.
Georgia was quick and impulsive,
proud and independent.
In the evening Georgia worked|as a dancehall girl.
Jack had lots of appeal for Georgia.
Perhaps that's why she resented him.
Out of the night|came the Little Fellow,
towards the dancehall,|that beacon light of pleasure,
that retreat of lost dreams.
"Georgia,|why aren't you nice to Jack?"
"I believe he really likes you,"|said the girl.
"He likes everybody,"|said Georgia quite audibly.
"I'm bored with this place,"|she continued.
"I'd give it all up if I could find|someone honest and worthwhile."
"Don't worry,|I'll find him someday."
Then she turned
and looked and looked
and looked.
"Kinda fresh, ain't ya?"|Thought Jack.
"Get down off that high horse."
"Me and you are gonna dance."
"Hey there, pan out a tune."
"Just a moment,|I said we're gonna dance."
"I beg your pardon," said Georgia.
To show her utter contempt for Jack,
she picked out the most deplorable|looking tramp in the dancehall.
"Hey you, come here."
"Yes, you. Do you want to dance?"
"You see, I'm very particular|about whom I dance with."
And there he stood,|the dauntless cavalier, guarding...
her sanctuary.
"If you wanna make a hit|with your lady friend,"
"you should put your hat|on straight, like this!"
"Take that you... Ouch!"
"Huh! Very good."
"Didn't know me own strength,"|said the Little Fellow.
Hank Curtis' cabin was|a stone's throw from the dancehall.
Hank was a mining engineer|who lived alone
and occasionally went|on long expeditions
into the Far North.
Hank was kind and human,
and our hero cold and hungry,
and the beans smelled good|and the coffee was steaming hot.
So the Little Fellow|devised a way of getting breakfast.
Big Jim recovered from the blow|he received from Black Larson
but lost his memory.
Hank's partner arrives.
Both are ready to leave|on a long expedition.
Hank informs his partner|that the Little Fellow
is to look after the cabin|while he's away.
"Goodbye," said Hank.|"And don't forget to feed the mule."
Since that night in the dancehall|the Little Fellow hadn't seen Georgia,
but an incident|was to bring them together again.
There she stood,|her loveliness lighting the room,
filling his soul|with the music of romance
for which he was so ill-fitted.
As she introduced her friends,|his heart began to sing.
As they warmed up by the stove,|he excused himself to get firewood.
And in that cabin|his secret was revealed,
his love for Georgia.
And the girls giggled and laughed,
perhaps in order to hide their pity.
For in the world of the dancehall|it wasn't wise for the girls
to reveal their hearts.
And so they thought|they'd have a little fun with him.
There in the gloaming they sat,
their faces alight with mischief,
but all the while|his heart was singing.
And so she fooled and flirted|and stroked his hair.
He knew she was fooling,|but he was happy.
For she was near him,|holding his hand,
smiling at him.
"Nice place you have here,"|said Georgia.
"I hope you will invite us again."
What if she were fooling?
He was enjoying|the warmth of her attention.
the ruthless siren|of the Far North,
beckoning thousands|to her icy bosom.
Beckoning thousands|to her unknown regions.
Chilkoot Pass was the great barrier|to the gold fields.
Over this Pass men faced|untold misery and hardship.
Many lost their lives.|Some fell by the wayside,
others lost courage|and turned back.
But the brave went on.
Far into the icy north,|deep into the silent nowhere,
came an undaunted lone prospector.
And somewhere in that nowhere|was another lone prospector.
With cheerful optimism|our little Columbus descended,
then stopped, stepped,|slipped and slid.
"Now let me see,"|thought the little fellow.
"Before I know where I am,|I must get there."
There in that frozen wilderness|a dream came true,
and a lone voice shrieked|into the solemn sky,
"Eureka! I've found it,|a mountain of gold!"
But the elements laughed,|roared and thundered.
In that raging nowhere|was a lone cabin,
and another lone man,|Black Larson,
an unmitigated,|predatory scoundrel.
Out of the lashing storm|came the Little Fellow
to find shelter and perhaps|a little hospitality.
There he sat,|resting his weary bones
as the icy wind howled|through the knothole.
"Come here," said Larson.
"What are you doing?"
"Eating, obviously."
"Get out."
"Go on!"
"Get out!"
The wind also was giving|Big Jim his troubles.
Big Jim was the noble type.|He had suffered.
Oh, how he loved to suffer.|He suffered about everything.
"Get out," said Black Larson.
"Or I'll fill you both|full of lead."
"Now then,|the pair of you, get out!"
"Out!"
That kind of noise|Jim don't tolerate.
"I'll stay right here, understand?"
"Right here," said Big Jim.
"Yes, sir, he'll stay right here,"|said the Little Fellow.
"Understand? We stay right here."
And stay they did,
for days and nights.|The cabin moaned and groaned.
Two men walked and never talked,|hunger gnawed their bones.
"I must have food!" yelled Big Jim.
"I must have food!"
"What are you eating?"|Said Black Larson.
"Nothing."
"Open your mouth!"
"Liar! It's that candle."
"That?" said the Little Fellow.|"How revolting."
"If I thought you were holding out|on me, I'd slit your gizzard!"
"One of us must brave that storm,|if we're to get food."
"Come here, the pair of you."
"We'll cut the cards|and the low man goes."
"You're the man," said Jim.
"Goodbye, good luck."
"Don't forget|to bring home the bacon."
Somewhere in that nowhere,|the law was looking for Black Larson.
Desperate with hunger|and here it was Thanksgiving Day.
Nevertheless there was something|to be thankful for.
"Not quite done yet,|give it two more minutes."
"Come on, come on," said Big Jim.
After scouring the country for food,
the Little Fellow had to admit|he had seen nothing,
not even a field mouse.
From the pangs of hunger,
Big Jim was becoming delirious,|hysterical.
In fact he was a pain in the neck.
"Food, food!" he thundered.
"I can put another shoe in the pot."
"No, no, anything but that!"
Poor Jim, he couldn't take it.
"What's the matter?"|Said the Little Fellow.
"I thought you were a chicken."
"Well, build up the fire,"|said Big Jim.
"What's the matter with you?"|Said the Little Fellow.
"Come, my pretty bird,"|said Big Jim.
"Don't be childish."
"Hey, quit it.|Don't be foolish, it's me!"
"You!" said Jim.
"I'm sorry. I must be crazy."
"You're telling me,"|said the Little Fellow.
"You go inside. I'll take the gun|in case you lose it."
Chicken or no chicken,
the Little Fellow looks appetizing|to Big Jim.
Meanwhile Black Larson stumbled|onto Big Jim's mountain of gold.
Then came the parting of the ways,
Big Jim to his mine,|our hero to his fate.
"Goodbye," said the Little Fellow.
"It's been a great pleasure|knowing you."
Treachery awaited Big Jim|at his mountain of gold.
Big Jim looked deep into the eyes
of Black Larson
and saw there the soul of a skunk.
Caught in a maelstrom|of desperate deeds,
Black Larson swept on|to impending doom.
And out of a dream|in that frozen waste, a city grew.
And humanity warmed it with living,|loving and desiring.
Georgia.
Jack was a ladies' man.
Georgia was quick and impulsive,
proud and independent.
In the evening Georgia worked|as a dancehall girl.
Jack had lots of appeal for Georgia.
Perhaps that's why she resented him.
Out of the night|came the Little Fellow,
towards the dancehall,|that beacon light of pleasure,
that retreat of lost dreams.
"Georgia,|why aren't you nice to Jack?"
"I believe he really likes you,"|said the girl.
"He likes everybody,"|said Georgia quite audibly.
"I'm bored with this place,"|she continued.
"I'd give it all up if I could find|someone honest and worthwhile."
"Don't worry,|I'll find him someday."
Then she turned
and looked and looked
and looked.
"Kinda fresh, ain't ya?"|Thought Jack.
"Get down off that high horse."
"Me and you are gonna dance."
"Hey there, pan out a tune."
"Just a moment,|I said we're gonna dance."
"I beg your pardon," said Georgia.
To show her utter contempt for Jack,
she picked out the most deplorable|looking tramp in the dancehall.
"Hey you, come here."
"Yes, you. Do you want to dance?"
"You see, I'm very particular|about whom I dance with."
And there he stood,|the dauntless cavalier, guarding...
her sanctuary.
"If you wanna make a hit|with your lady friend,"
"you should put your hat|on straight, like this!"
"Take that you... Ouch!"
"Huh! Very good."
"Didn't know me own strength,"|said the Little Fellow.
Hank Curtis' cabin was|a stone's throw from the dancehall.
Hank was a mining engineer|who lived alone
and occasionally went|on long expeditions
into the Far North.
Hank was kind and human,
and our hero cold and hungry,
and the beans smelled good|and the coffee was steaming hot.
So the Little Fellow|devised a way of getting breakfast.
Big Jim recovered from the blow|he received from Black Larson
but lost his memory.
Hank's partner arrives.
Both are ready to leave|on a long expedition.
Hank informs his partner|that the Little Fellow
is to look after the cabin|while he's away.
"Goodbye," said Hank.|"And don't forget to feed the mule."
Since that night in the dancehall|the Little Fellow hadn't seen Georgia,
but an incident|was to bring them together again.
There she stood,|her loveliness lighting the room,
filling his soul|with the music of romance
for which he was so ill-fitted.
As she introduced her friends,|his heart began to sing.
As they warmed up by the stove,|he excused himself to get firewood.
And in that cabin|his secret was revealed,
his love for Georgia.
And the girls giggled and laughed,
perhaps in order to hide their pity.
For in the world of the dancehall|it wasn't wise for the girls
to reveal their hearts.
And so they thought|they'd have a little fun with him.
There in the gloaming they sat,
their faces alight with mischief,
but all the while|his heart was singing.
And so she fooled and flirted|and stroked his hair.
He knew she was fooling,|but he was happy.
For she was near him,|holding his hand,
smiling at him.
"Nice place you have here,"|said Georgia.
"I hope you will invite us again."
What if she were fooling?
He was enjoying|the warmth of her attention.
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