kot

Устала я чего-то до одури, поэтому слушаю всякое прекрасное. В разговоре вспомнилась самая первая кассета Джетро Талла, которая у меня появилась, привезли из Штатов в начале 90-х. Потом много кто переписывал. Это был сборник, 20 лет им исполнилось тогда. С ними интересно получилось, я их полюбила заочно, по рассказам друзей, и когда услышала, то ожидания полностью оправдались. А кассета так и осталась самой-самой, там чудесные, тонкие акустические вещи. Еще Skating Away, конечно - с постепенным наслоением инструментов, и Андерсон там такой звонкий, голос эхом разносится.
Гриш, спасибо, что напомнил!

When we're working nights, the village round
The old church becomes scary town.
All curtained windows and bolted doors
But never a eye to see
As us fairy folks sweep from the hill
Never caught us and never will.
Pulling roses and daffodils ---
Mayhem in the high degree.

The blacksmith chased us all to ground.
They searched all night --- we were never found.
The tinker boys and the sheriff's men
Shaking the tallest tree.
And we sat and watched the women hide.
Laughed so much we split our sides.
Scattered horses that they would ride ---
Mayhem in the high degree.

We crossed through fields of midnight green
Often heard but seldom seen.
Tore along hedges,stripping leaves ---
No-one could quite agree
Whether we came from north or south.
We stole the screams from out their mouths
And go where no man would allow
Mayhem in the high degree.

Like scaly carp and feathered swan
To nature's world we do belong.
We ride the thin winds of the night
And set dark spirits free.
We terrify the mare and foal.
The fox stood still and far too bold.
So we strung him up, brush neatly folded ---
Mayhem, maybe.

***

Meanwhile back in the year One --- when you belonged to no-one ---
you didn't stand a chance son, if your pants were undone.
`Cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society ---
one day you'll wake up in the Present Day ---
a million generations removed from expectations
of being who you really want to be.

Skating away ---
skating away ---
skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.

So as you push off from the shore,
won't you turn your head once more --- and make your peace with everyone?
For those who choose to stay,
will live just one more day ---
to do the things they should have done.
And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness:
you feel you have to pray.
Looking for a sign
that the Universal Mind (!) has written you into the Passion Play.

Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.

And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind ---
you're a rabbit on the run.
And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye ---
shining in the setting sun.
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's
too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like
you're the only person sitting in the audience?

Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.