18.05.2024
Paolo Conte - Лирицс транслатион то енглисх
English
The 20th century
Some say those skies are suitablefor horses and that roads
are made of soundstage dust.
Some say that inside the houses, pale-faced women
with their old Singer machines sew
light gingham coats
clothes that billow in the wind
and everything else is just rubbish,
old stuff for Chinese people, eh, eh.
Some say that old little tune
from the 19th century makes
some old dolls smile in a sweet dream
all of them, pierced by an Indian arrow,
memories of the previous century,
stuff from a distant era,
an era [they] glimpsed in the white flash
of a magnesium flare
over the crazy red of manganese, eh eh.
The silence was indigo, and so was the Great Spirit
that slowed the onset of frost
and shooed crows away from the hill.
Like an old cook in a kitchen,
scolding the ghosts of gourmands
in a slow, sing-song way.
Nevermind, just leave it, don't bother,
we don't know where we were
that morning that was worth seeing, eh eh.
Where were we that morning
when the 20th century was running
the great race of moccasins...
Up there, on the pleistocene stage
on the prehistoric plateau
volcanic, then galvanic...
Some say it's all vanilla,
a great battle,
a big wonder, eh, eh.
The galvanized wind was opening
all garages and freeing
some big, thrilling engines.
Yellow straw was fluttering in the air,
higher than the realm of eagles,
where airplanes shine...
The airplane was shining like the eyes
of stray boys who
were looking at it from the branches of cherry trees, eh eh.
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